I haven’t called you,
But you haven’t called me, too,
So I guess that makes us both guilty
Of letting the past live on
Where it belongs.

I'm not supposed
to love you
but I do it anyway
and I don't know why

All i know is that
I feel guilty for
loving you

You had slowly sunk your knife up to its hilt into his chest, piercing it into half. You saw his life slowly evaporate from his eyes. But you still heard his heart's pump which had grew old, crumpled and soon would be silent. You had felt his life trembling through the knife in your hand. It had almost overcame you for time being, the gentleness of being at the center of act of guilty. Guilty of being humane less. Then again it started flowing in your veins, but this time in much vigor, fearful and drearily. This largely ephemeral fear went away when you started plumping the knife several time with out being aware of him. It was like cutting butter with no resistance at all. While doing so you had went to floor with him to finish him. His eyes was remain wide open, you got the impression that he was imploring you not to harm him but to do right thing.*

You heard a hazy voice, "Thank you."

Lock me up and throw away the key.
I was caught red-handed,
or more precise would be
red-lipped.

The crime was one of passion.
A trial? No need.
I was caught stealing kisses
from you between the sheets.

I can't sleep when you're mad at me,
I feel like a bad girlfriend
Why didn't I try to fix it immediately after it happened?

I guess I should say sorry, it's always my fault,
Isn't it?
But I hate being the one to start apologizing
Why am I always ruining ****?
I know you'll tell me, after we make up, that I didn't ruin us
That we're still us
I know that. But I still ruined something


I'm sorry I'm insecure and I'm still nervous around you
I'm sorry I feel everything too deeply and get hurt by the smallest things you say or do
I'm sorry I'm sensitive. I'm sorry I got mad at you
I'm sorry for my one word answers, that was the wrong thing to do

I'm sorry I didn't immediately tell you I'm sorry
I'm sorry for writing this poem instead of checking if you're still awake so that I can tell you that
I'm sorry

sugar is how we got here

sprinkled on things
that were once plain
and thus made
so much sweeter

doused on the
painful qualms
of everyones stupid
life

poured on our
guilty pleasures
that keep us astray
from what we know

but sugar gives us cavities
rots our teeth
rots our soul
rots our world

I watched you
as you walked down
that cool, grey
sidewalk

flaming lips
clung to your
cool, dark
skin

chewing your pencil
between your
slightly hereditary yellow
teeth

And that one
chipped tooth
that i gave you
when we were seven  

I watched myself
put my cigarette down
because suddenly
I wanted to have lungs

I wanted to have lungs
so i could breathe
your sweet and pure
air

At that moment
you became the succulent poison apple
the 1000 calorie ice cream cone
the guilty pleasure

my saccharine escape
from this cancerous world