Coffee mug rims stained red
Either from her lips or from her blood
They line the cabinets of the room
I used to find myself in with you

The brew in the *** is three days cold
The fridge no longer is
The dishes stacked in an unruly mess
And I find myself at home in the dirt

Please come back

Rainbow parking lot oil stains
After the rain
staring at the washed asphalt
and my fingers go numb
wondering how the hell
and why so sad
another long drag
so much for
trying not to be bitter

Stained.
Like the blood on my hands have dried to a crust.
My heart had thawed but now has freezer burn.
The strands of blonde that were bleached last year.
The words that I won't forget.
Stained.
Like the white dress that has now turned yellow.
The dried candle wax that won't come off the carpet.
Don't love me, or I will become hard.
Don't leave me
Or I will become,
Stained.

Just a swipe of the pen
and a turn of the page
Your heart shatters
as her blood splattered papers
Reveal the monster inside
Just a swipe of the pen
and a turn of the page
You find you're just an
ink stain in the book

A sharp tongue can **** everyone who hears it

A puff of cigar in, mist, out
on the street, shrouding the
tracks and missed heart aches;

this morning, time,
is not kept by the ticking clock.

Only one vehicle has crossed the road.

Mellow sun warming up the snow
forever burying the tracks out;

The stubble's scruffy, and heart,
as dishevelled as the sheets;

Empty cups, full of memories -
and stained of the night's wine;

In the corners the embers still crackle:

leaning back on ease chair,
wondering
who it was that left early
this misty morning;

Some things never change
    


      The circular stains on the ceiling above my heart shaped bed didn't exist under that rule

  Sometimes they *seemed constant
           And sometimes that made me feel ok
            
        But other times, as I lay in bed,
            Somewhere near the halfway point between laying down and falling asleep,
       I stared up at them and they moved
         Left and right
Ellipsing each other,
    Becoming ovaloid in shape

Sometimes they simply flitted away, vanished


    I thought them gone,
But they continued to return.

They would not be so remorseless as to leave and not look back to see the blank space they had left.

     So my little circular stains stayed for a while.

    I was happy looking up in wonder at something I could never understand but never dared question.

   Until one day I simply wasn't. My interest in the stains steadily faded until I began to drift off on my side staring out the window, searching for owls I could hear but not see. These sounds made me hope.

They made me open the windows I had locked tight.
They made me breathe.
    
    Those sounds lull me to sleep even now.

*And I've stopped looking for the circles completely