she's not mad at him
she place all blame on herself
they both agreed; only friends with benefits
she can't change the way he feels about her
so why does she put herself directly
in the line of fire

even if it may sooth the urge
for just a little while
maybe she'll add an extra
splash of red or pink
to her lips enticing him
to pucker up

she doesn't want to be alone yet she knows
he is just her imaginary substitute
a fake smile, holding back her tears,
and walking away into her cave of loneliness
will the lights of love ever come on for her
or will she be sitting in the dark forever?

Not as sweet, but
hits the spot
on this rainy
Summer’s eve;
underneath the
bursting clouds,
taste buds
seeking a release.

Need a little
pick-me-up,
a familiar medicine,
satisfaction guaranteed,
with a lenient
return policy.

Finally, you feel her
shape, unseen
on the bottom shelf:
a natural alternative
to the sugar you can’t
have.

"Ma'am, will you buy these?" the saleslady asked Claire once more.

Claire looked at Edna like asking her help in making a decision.

"Do you want them? Then buy them," Edna's voice is low. She pity her sister but she doesn't want to show it to her.

Claire got her wallet and smiled to the saleslady. "I will," she said.

Tomorrow, they will go back to their province.  Claire will not ask Ron again to give the original wedding ring to her.

Tomorrow, Claire and Ron will wear the sign that they are husband and wife.

I always thought I knew what love was.
Then I met you.
You could reach places of my soul
that even I didn’t know existed,
each smile was another reason to live,
Every time you laughed
I fell more in love.
every time I looked into your coke-and-whiskey eyes
each pant after a kiss carried a thousand poems
about those eyes in it.
You gazed at me like an artist
would admire Van Gogh,
you held me like I was the answer
and for a while, I thought I was, with
Your fingers pressing into my hips
in a way that I later found out
was to intercept the thought of your hands
on her hips.
You played me
like I was the last cello on earth-
but not in a good way.
And I know it’s pathetic,
but you’re the heaven
and the earth to me,
because you were the only person
that could make me smile the way you did.
It was supposed to be just ***,
but I’m in love with you-
present tense.
I want to lay in bed with you
under sparkling blue Christmas lights
strewn out across my walls like everything
I never thought I could say
but found the opportunity to,
I want to kiss your scars,
I want to fix your broken hearts with
duct tape and a song,
and I want to admire every inch of your body
because it’s perfect,
even if you don’t think so.
I want to do things to you
that I’ll never have the opportunity to do again,
because while everything about you
wrecks everything about me
in what I thought was
the best possible way,
I turned out to be a rebound.
A substitute
for a girl who gave you a murky puddle
just big enough to catch the reflection
of you two hand in hand,
while you drowned me in the clearest ocean
I could have given you.

He steps out for air
It is time for a smoke
He craves the nicotine
Yet what he exhales
Is electronic.

It is Thursday night
Happy hour about to start
He is not allowed to drink
It has the same color
Apparently with the taste
Of what he is aiming for.

What then is the point
To root for a substitute
Is it so hard to swear off
We need familiarity that
suits.

A discrepancy between
What is and what seems.

Using this word to replace another
Perhaps one to soothe the torture
Finding excuses to justify actions
A lie in disguise enough to comfort.

He decides to go cold turkey
It is harder but at least
He is not pretending
He feels his truth, forgets the substitute
He learned what passive smoking means
And as of late,
Apple juice had become his drink.

There’s a noose around our necks to drive out feeling,
To **** the sweetest instincts planted deep within our souls.
It’s too hard to feel, it hurts too much, so **** it –
Replacing it with lust so that we think we are alive
But we have lost it.

I think therefore I am?  So said that Greek man.
Someone could likewise reason that “I feel, therefore I am”
It’s a possible conjecture but the suffering incurred
Is overboard , impossible, I cannot cope with that.
I’ll take the substitute.

This lust gives me to think I’m feeling something,
Be it money lust, drink, drugs, or sexuality or things.
Somehow, though my ego escalates, I’m feeling grand,
But my relationships are failing, flawed, I cannot understand –
I’ll take the substitute.

I’m at the bottom of the pit.  I’m on the outer.  
The substitute has got me.  I’m in isolated rink.
It’s living hell.  My friends are gone, and everything is bad.
I cannot cope with this.  I need some love. There’s none around.
I’ll take the substitute.

I’ll take the substitute.

I’ll take the substitute.

I’ll take the substitute.

This is hell.

God, where are You?

“I’m right here.”

“I took the substitute.”

"I know."

"It's finished me."

"I know."

"Help me."

“Will you take Me now?”

“I sure don’t want the substitute any more.”

“Will you take Me now?”

“Yes.”

“You believe Me now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe that I love you?”

“Yes”

“Do you understand, I did the substitution for you?”

“On the Cross?”

“That’s it.”

“I believe you.”

“Do you trust Me in all respects?”

“It’s either You or the other substitute?”

“It’s either Me or the other substitute.”

“I’d rather trust You.”

“Come then.  I love you.  
Walk with Me and I’ll restore your deeply broken heart.
You are My child. Draw ever closer, never to depart.
Revive yourself in Me.  My Words will give you back your Life.
I’m your blood brother, at your back when problem scenes are rife.
My Spirit, Truth, empowers you in strife.”