His charm,
sharp as a knife
cut deep within wounds
        I,
   myself,
      am
    afraid
       to
     heal
To bruise is temporary;
but a scar left more permanent.

You saw me cry and ask
Would you like some coffee?

And with every next sip
Of black, bitter coffee

I was forgetting him
And making space for you

She's forgetting you know
her, know what this is about.

Easy feels cheap, deceptive.
Easy feels like denial, trying
to comfort against our will.

She's forgetting, but not
you, never you.

People love life or death,
all or nothing, love the way rope
burns against the wrist from
struggle because it feels like we're
doing something.

And we love to lose because
winning means making more
choices.

Some things are too important
to forget. She taught you that,

but principles were often buried
and you tried to forget anyway,
talked on the phone with her all night,

loved when she made it about her,
so you didn't have to think about
yourself.

Because you think too long and well,
suddenly it's November again, that
November, the one nobody knows about
because you threw away the evidence,

kept it hidden away with the other
sick black things inside you that will
never see the light of day.

This is not easy. It wasn't then either,

back when every wound was so
fresh skin had not yet seen scar,
feeling impossible and greedy and
too big for your body.

It wasn't easy. It could have killed
you. This isn't easy. It's just killing
you slower.

There are always choices, but no
guarantee of any good ones.

She's forgetting, but you're not. You've
seen heaven and hell. You've seen
wolves in sheep's clothing, never knowing
whose side you were supposed to take.

You've seen the truth. You've bled it:

The world is full of cruelty.
The world is full of beauty.
The world is so full and so
empty all at once.

Written September 28, 2008*

And I'm sorry
That I couldn't be
Everything
That you wanted of me

And I know
That sorry can't explain
All those feelings inside
The mistakes that I've made

So please tell me
Who I'm supposed to be

Now coming down from that
Long, long road
Seeing you there
A part of me knows
That you and me
We weren't meant to be

So just let go.
Forget about Everything.

I hear the birds singing to the tune of the Earth's breath
Sun's angels descending, purging my room of creatures
That appeared since that giant beach ball ran and hid behind the sea
These events unfolded repeatedly for several days and in my dreams
I see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing but could remember remembering everything.

My eyelids jumped off of my wide eyes and hit the floor
And I, too, jumped to that hole where Alice once did
Only to wake up feeling void as if a crane forcibly penetrated itself
To any hole it could find on my body making its way to my head
And rip out the films of my brain like a heathen worshipping his false god.

You see, what happens in wonderland means as much to me as
A thin thread of hope means to a war refugee
However, despite all this, there was one time I remember exactly what happened
I was flying, "YES!" I shouted. My thoughts pulled out his gun and shot me down
I hear the birds singing to the tune of the Earth's breath.

and just as fate should have it
we can never be
just meeting on a road we walked
side by side for so long
for it to divert
all too soon

the first mile
the second and the third
I miss seeing you by my side
we really had to say goodbye
all too soon
but it's not like
you would care
do you?
would you?
if I asked?

and I will
never see you again
probably
after a while;
will I forget?

will you let me
hold your hand for
the first time
and the last

and how would you respond
if I told you
that I loved you
would you
have anything to say?
anything at all?

If I could
Swallow liquid fire
And replace
The traces of
Your name in my
Bloodstream
With burning,
Cleansing flame,
Then I would
Drink until
I was consumed
No more
By scathing
Thoughts
Of you

I wore that shirt
Today
The one
You once told me
You liked.
Crimson
With holes
In the shoulders.
But when I
Slipped it
Over my head
I thought only of the
Fabric on my skin
Instead of
The words that
You said.