She comes here,
consumes nothing,
offers all
but what I desire.
Folds my laundry,
teaches me Thai,
goes down on me.
Massages my shoulders
to tempt sleep
in restless sheets.

But I cannot write
a lullaby
with her sleeping soundly,
like a lie,
by my side.

The silence is the worst part.

Silence after the storm, when all is eerie quiet
and you wonder if it would be too cliché
to wander out and survey the damage, murmuring platitudes
to nameless neighbors

Silence in the night, as you lay awake
and the shock of a train whistle like a dying candle
echoing in your head long after
the train has gone

Silence when you ask them if everything feels wrong
and your breath won’t come in the hour-long seconds
before they answer you, it does
the world is falling apart

Realizing that I loved you, but was not
in love with you, was the worst
of all heartbreaks.

Fear
Is a glue
That holds your once-broken-heart
Together

Eventually it dries.
The fear
Evaporates from
Your mind.
You forget.

The glue is gone.
Your heart strung high
As ever.
And then you fall
IT falls.

Fear is the glue that
Holds together
Your broken heart.
It dries. You forget.

Fear helps
You heal.

Anti-"Roses are Red, Violets are Blue" poems (3 total)

1) Roses are Red,
Violets are Blue,
I thought of this in bed,
So here is your clue,
Just for today,
All i have to say,
Is, "Adu".

2) Roses Are Red,
Violets are Blue,
I thought of this in bed,
Now listen to this clue,
For longer than today,
(I am glad to say),
That my subject of Ridicule,
Is You!

3)Roses are Red,
Violets are Blue,
Why is it that only in bed,
That I can I think of you?
Perhaps because until it is otherwise said,
I am not very good for you,
So for now I must bid thee,
"Adu".

this is not a poem about love
and I will not talk about how you taste of sour patch kids
or how your laugh illuminates my blackened soul

this is not a poem about love
and i will not mention the way you hold me like i am the answers
you discovered whilst exploring the depths of the universe

this is not a poem about love
and i will not speak of the way you ignite the dwindling fire in my heart
with a simple smile

this is not a poem about love
and i will not reference how you shade in the blanks of my mind
with vibrant hues of your perfect self

this is not a poem about love
but i will never make a good liar
and, my dear, you have captured me