Breakfast for two is true
communion.

Twin mugs full plates
the disshelved kitchen

My one yolk eyes me;
its sunny stare brightens
the awkward lack
of intimacy.

Sipping orange juice in lieu
of the morning after,
the passing closeness
a treasure all its own.

The morning woke her up
On the bed of his chest
Glass shattered
Splints everywhere
And she walked home on ****** feet

Husks of chopped evergreen
discarded by the sidewalk
tied to trash,
weeping pine needles
only hope to be compost.
Deflated decoration litter the lawns,
red and green strewn about
lights flickered and burnt out.
Expired eggnog, chicken bones,
crumpled wrapping paper,
empty boxes, metal reindeer,
tinsel and broken candy canes.
Dead christ is still in the holiday,
while we spoke about the night before
we forget we can see him
the morning after.

I'm pretty sure the neighbors Windows shook too
I'm fairly sure they heard the screams
They were inside their own house but I'm pretty sure they could sense how wet it was
It came fast and lasted all night
It was rough and loud
And now here's morning
And It was too small to have gained a name in anyone's book

The wind shook the whole neighborhood
It whistled so loud it almost gave me a headache
Even from the inside, the rain still had an effect
There was no storm warning for it to have lasted so long
The lightning and thunder took a toll on those afraid of it
And now it's after the storm
But it didn't cause enough destruction to be named after a woman

I was talking about the storm the whole time, what did you think I was talking about?

This isn't love per say,
It's a.. I live without you but every time we are reintroduced I can't:

It's a, we will dance all night, during of which I whisper no one knows this energy better than me:

It's a, friends without benefits for the benefit of our friendship:

It's a, you know me to the point where I rather you named me instead of parents:

It's a, if we are together too long people will get the right idea:

It's a, I'm writing this while angry at you, but can't seem to speak negatively about you:

It's a, I keep my mouth shut about your ex because I wish me and you had those problems instead:

It's a, it's complicated:

It's a, I blew my chance back in high school:

It's a, I reach out to show you maybe I do love you with hands behind my back--
unable to show my affection:

It's a, you say you're over me,
(we probably will never happen):

It's a, I subconsciously say I love you with every gaze.

I tell you how I feel with the knowledge you won't take me seriously so I don't take what im saying serious:

kind of situation.

She is high,
alive on
nouveau romance,
a libido kept quiet.

She is
ill-content,
flashbacks
withOut relief,
but a spark-plug second
her blissed-out blessed beneath.

She is
driving home
upset,
his rolling-over motion
this morning
was expected.

Frigid hands
clasping coffee cups
at Venice Beach.
She sighs.
Relief
is a sky of
lemons orange
and persimmon trees
and caffeine.