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Just the other day
I met Robert Goulet

I was surprised a bit
The way his mustache twitched

A mind of its own
Like in the Twilight Zone

Jumping right off his face
His mustache ran away

Teeny boppers next door
Giggled out of control

As Roberts mustached jumped
Landing in someones lunch

That's when the Maítre ď
Let out a girly scream

Quite an embarrassment
To all us burly men

Then throughout the day
The mustache of Robert Goulett

Made a name for itself
As it ventured about town

His mustache all could see
Has a tinder streak

Helping old ladies out
To get across the street

Why it even saved a cat
Giving all its nine lives back

Pulled it from a tree
That was burning excessively

At that same moment saved the town
Itself from burning down

But that story's much to long
To try to abound

The town was so impressed
They trimmed up the mustache

Of Robert Goulett
Then gave it a ticker tape parade

After that they named a street
Because of its heroic feat

If it had two hands to greet
Would have handed it the city's key

And if the mustache could talk at all
Would have given the greatest speech

If Roberts mustache had only known
It'd do this good out on its own

It would have left the upper lip
Along time ago
I am my own disease

It spreads like wildfire

My veins burst

My skin bruises

My insides begin to die

I am my own disease

You are the cure

So far and out of reach

I will die

Before ever even getting close.
If you wake up tomorrow
And I'm not there
Please know I loved you

If you wake up wanting me
Please know I could not stay

Falling in love with you was a blessing and curse
You are the sweetest thing I have ever known
And I am eternally thankful

But I could not stay
And face you
Knowing that you did not love me

If you wake up tomorrow
And I'm not there
Please know I miss you
And I hope you miss me

Please know
I loved you the moment we met.
Deprivation stings,
descending through the levels,
I have much to learn.

Worn like blood-soaked shoes,
On the land of misnomers,
All of this is wrong.

Attempting to see,
Inside darkness without light,
such tragic attempts.

The end I do see,
Is coming all too quickly,
I hope you all know.

Be where there is love,
All things here are absolute,
Reside in the light.
©Kyle Fisher
A splash of cool water runs down my face.
The droplets collide with dust
that is settled onto the backside of my callused hands.
I tighten my grasp on the edges of the pasty, beige colored sink,
and slowly tilt me head up.

My eyes open...

The room that was once well lit, is now darkened.
Revealing only my hazy silhouette in the mirror.
I stare into the glass for a moment.
Subconsciously criticizing the inadequate outline of the reflected shadow.

The door opens...

She steps in.
Her bare feet slightly sticking to the linoleum floor,
creating a small popping sound.
A single ray of light follows her,
like she was stepping onto a dark stage in a theatre full of thousands
glaring attentively.

My focus is pulled away from the cloudy pane of glass,
and is forced in her direction.
My entire being flutters with nervousness as she walks by.
Her silky blonde hair flowing as if an ocean breeze is passing over her.
A short lavender night gown is draped over her soft, pale skin.
Each passing second is highlighted by her perfect form,
as she glides by seemingly unaware of my presence.

Exiting without a second glance behind her,
she slowly shuts the rusty hinged, wooden door,
and the light diminishes.
I stand silently waiting; hoping the door will open again,
and the goddess enveloped in white will return.

Not a sound...

I turn again to the mirror.
One last chance to see myself clearly,
and hold on to that abruptly fleeting moment,
when I adjusted my worried and desperate eyes,
I could no longer see my dark wavy silhouette.
It was void.
An empty mirror looked through my solid outer shell,
and saw nothing.
I looked down at my hands,
attempting to unravel the puzzling circumstance.

I too, saw nothing...

The floor beneath my feet started to tremble,
raising an ear piercing screech.
The gold lined window casing stretched and morphed,
leaving the glass without holding edges.
The pane drops,
crashing into the sink below.
Broken glass raises into the air, pieces of the woman in the lavender dress appear in the separate shards,
and the entire room disintegrates.

I am left...

Surrounded by a blank, cold atmosphere of white.
Alone, and with nothing,
I walk.
© Kyle Fisher
Huddled in quasi-complexity,
my mind makes for itself shackles,
that bore their ends into brick walls.
Like iron pig tails, they restrict all movement.

Will these chains ever be discarded?
Or will they corrode from the longevity of bathing in saline tears?
©Kyle Fisher
The sky, black as the eyes that stare at it.
Star-studded and as seamless as new programming.
I look down, the streets molested by fluorescent splotches --
red ribbons of memory evaporate from the lights of motorcycles,
gurgling by.

A homeless, pregnant woman, in a bar, once told me,
"Forgiveness is letting a prisoner free, then finding out that you were the prisoner."

The sunset looks like an explosion of emotions
no one understands, yet.

The smudges on her lips
look like the bruises of an orphan apple.
Ashland, Wisconsin
Tiny whispers,
soft and subtle.
Bed frames,
a warming cuddle.
Soul pieces,
nose kisses,
cold feet,
one love puddle.

dark secrets,
silent bracing.
Morning breath,
coffee grounds,
and carnal chasing.

Apple tarts,
Soft eyes,
and blunt smoke.
Crazy nights,
and tired days,
that is what I miss the most..
©Kyle Fisher
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