I need a saving,
From the person
I am drowning.
I love him,
But he can’t love me
The way I love him.

take every chance you get
every single one
cause right now
all i feel is regret
for not taking that chance
on us

Rainy day such as a sign,

Last time I saw your hollow point smile

Smile that used to be your special abillity

Gosh... you aren't a cheerful girl, but really I miss your awkward smile at your pale face

Blue flower that you gave me still bloom at my mind

And still I regret my failur to convincing you

Anyway not everyone is a fan of a happy sunny day right?

Yesterday is either a
                          regret.

Or a moment that
                      fills us with

contemplation that we

                 did something right.

But if a regret,
         we look into the
                  past.

So not to repeat the errors
that befell us,
       and brought us to the cliff

of which we jumped from.

Landing anew to the realisation,
   that we may jump.

But we will
          always land at a new point
                        of learning.

In last night's dream I met the 3 fates
They said, in unison, I could go back in time
Just for 24 hours, to any day I wanted

I picked the day you died.

I ran to your house and explained
What would happen to you, soon
Thinking, in my hubris, I could stop it

At first, you thought I was joking
Or playing some sort of cruel trick
Until you saw the tears form
I hugged you, in a way I hadn't
In over twenty years and said I was sorry

We stayed up all night watching bad tv
Eating sweet snacks from the pantry
I read to you, my favourite poetry
I told you everything, and I lied
That I was happy, that I'm okay

And for a moment I thought that maybe
It wouldn't happen. That you wouldn't go.

Soon after, a gasp for air.
The death rattle. I held your hand.
I watched you die and was helpless to stop it.
But I was there with you, in my dream
To the very end, you were never alone

I wish I could've been there with you
Traumatizing as it would have been for me
I'm so sorry I wasn't there

A Valentine's Card dressed
With Steve Buscemi's face,
photoshopped onto a child,
disturbing and hilarious,
tattooed on the inside
with once-true truths.
Flammable.

A severed chunk of
35 mm film,
cut in a rhombus,
or trapeze or whatever,
highly flammable.

A piece of cloth
I brought with me,
And the part of
the belt I had to cut
off so it would fit
my skinny ***.
Flammable, slightly.

A dead and dried up leaf,
Impaled on the bulletin board,
From a tree I don't even know what,
That sometimes crinkles with the wind,
If she were alive still,
She would comment on the
Cold thumbtack spear
In her abdomen, and
Sniff regrets at the sweet,
Artificial Vanilla waves below.

I keep my wall of
flammable memories
Above a lit candle,
Every day, I wish the flames
Would reach a little higher, but
Every day, the wax sinks,
low, low, lower still.