A New Year comes with regret for the old
And in many ways,
I can see why.
Because most years call for the weather of tumultuous storms
Of fights, and heart ache,
Crying, and yelling.
And I'd be lying if I said
This horrendous omen didn't come true.
But I don't really focus on that much,
Because of you.

Though with pills and shrinks,
Managing was brought,
With you I found
That happiness could be caught
In each moment of shared glances
And short slow dances
Soft and slow connections of lips,
And skin being caressed with finger tips.

And though we've had our fair share,
Of letting the rough weather forecast in,
When the storm has past
There is no anxiety left behind,
Just relief and contentment left within.

And although the year calls for similar storms,
With you I'll stay inside,
Safe and warm.
And no hail can pierce through our skin that easily,
For catastrophes fear open doors,
And open hearts.

He was a champion boxer
turned alcoholic
who wandered

east and west
on the town’s
railroad tracks

until death;

after his funeral
his wife spent
her days knitting

and thumbing through
newspaper clippings
awaiting her husband’s

return.

I hate when I write and you
can't tell I'm being sarcastic
I want you so much I feel greedy
(that wasn't sarcastic)
I say I don't miss you
you should know I do
I don't think it's fair that
someone can think about
a person as much as I
think about you
think about this:
you being you and me
being me but together
all these people think I'm
writing for them
it's for you