Don’t think for a second that it didn’t hurt me to leave you,”
she urges.
“Because it was the most painful thing that I’ve ever had to do. It was so, so difficult. It took every bit of strength that I had not to turn around and apologize.”

She takes a deep breath.

“So don’t tell yourself that I wanted to. I didn’t, not at all. But leaving you was the only way I could save myself.

cough, cough*  



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCLIII)


Yes, I woke after one, as if t'avail
Myself of sleep ere tucking up has sense,
To find that notion snowplows were fr'intents
Upon the prowl in grinding form to scale
Long ere a Friday evning was past bail
Quite true, as snow filled that lone light's beams thence
With whiter mists, a blanket none could hence
Pierce on the blacker world in sheer betrayl.
If rolling phrases 'cross one's tongue in tour
Is grand, choice words the key 'fore their debut
On lo, this wrinkled notebook page, what were
They as I slipped into my nightie?  To
Effect:  "snow AFTER midnight--".  None too poor,
I spose.  And how winds craft dunes 'cross the view.

19Jan19a

...unaware of gathering darkness.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCL)


If nightfall wore the softest slippers whence
Twas silent in approach, I could not hail
It on that note, as was the case, light pale
All day til others blinked on in suspense
None felt in all in our haste to be from hence
Wherever as lo, darkness seals the tale
Of aught we'd erstwhile known whileas t'avail
I finish warming soup in sheer defense.
But dinner's late.  Cuz we'll have pizza too.
Thus, biscuits/rolls rise to th'occasion, poor
As hot food going cold in Winter's tour
Of bitter duty.  We put off th'ado
Called dinner til that night is black.  Then stir
Ourselves to eat, and pepperoni'd cue.

17Jan19b

crowded spaces,
familiar faces,
and sometimes
when my mind runs races
when this heart is tired of chases,

I cannot help
but wonder
if this too, is how love ends:
two dimensional,
as if
as if
as if
fairytales are just that;
tales, fabricated, lies.

How profound is it
to see your lover
intertwined with someone
that looks like you.

there's nothing special
between wanting to be alone,
alone with you:
if that doesn't make sense,
then i take back
all the love stories and
fragments of fickle phrases
stating the difference
between genuine, and selfish.

i am tired of dousing flames.
let me burn.

Hey you
My heart is not clay
And still isn't, whatever you say
You can leave or stay
My heart won't care, not even on the onehundredandone day