Everyone wants to block out the sun
so as to preserve their own little world
as if they were the only one
as if they wouldn't expect to touch a soul if they twirled
and twirled and twirled until they got dizzy
and promptly took a seat upon the floor
this is about the time you tell me you miss me
before you rise again and twirl some more
We fall away from happiness
in fear of the sadness it may bring
but a world without pain and joylessness
feels like a world without anything

I stare down the ticking clock begging for the hand to stop
because a life's worth nothing if time is all you've got

I wonder if you ever forget about me
momentarily,  summarily I
don't have the words to tell you what I mean
and I feel as if it'd be worthless to try.
That thing pops into my head the moment I wake,
I won't take up your time telling you of
the time I slid my hand off the, earthquake,
even the most powerful one can not shake a dove
How easy it would be to rise above the skies,
to float above the common folk,
to not worry about your little lies,
to not resent you every time you spoke.

It's always better when you're lost in it.
Without the time to contemplate the loss of it.

I have a
scar on my
left forearm that
reminds me of you

not that I
cut myself or
anything like that
it's more of a mistake

than anything
I was making penne
pasta in one of those large
black pots that every family has

in one cabinet or
another and I boiled it
so it was really hot so I could
eat which was the entire point of

the whole process
but I couldn't stop thinking
of you, your honey-wheat hair
that could pass for spaghetti if you

wanted it to
but you never did so
you always straightened it
I think that's when I was thinking

of when I
poured in the pasta
too quick and burned my arm
you were time consuming so much so

that I couldn't remember
what I had been doing the whole time
because unfortunately I couldn't help but be stuck on
you

tying words together
to create a line of stories told
life's an innocuous document
with the most important moments stained in bold

my heart is a once radiating sun
left too long in cold
flung off a mountaintop
gawked at as it rolled

till it lie at the feet of townsfolk
who were warned of tales of old
that though this thing may shine
all that glitters is not gold

Why do i still care is probably too simple a question
it implies an easy answer like “her eyes” or “her smile”
but it isn’t that
it’s not love at least not yet i’m too young
so it isn’’t that
think think think
there’s been other girls
four in fact
but what did they not have?
what were they missing
what made them Roseline and not Juliet
does “it” exist? it’s possible i guess
maybe nothing tangible could account for what i’m feeling
i doubt it but it’s a possibility
So what is it?
Seriously(tension builds)
Maybe it’s because you still care
sure I only know because of the grapevine
but i’ll just assume it still counts


I refuse to believe im the Pip to your Estella
I’d like to believe I have too much pride for that
Pride pride pride
maybe that’s the answer
I messed you up pretty good the first time
but then again you did win round 2
so maybe it’s just a game
a game my mind is just set on finishing


Maybe you’re just evil
crazy i know
really crazy
lunatic crazy
but still is it that crazy a thought?
you say you love me when you don’t
you say you don’t love me when you do
you say you miss us
but somehow “I” am not included


Maybe I have simply ruined you for myself
I’ve built you up in my head
to be something you simply can not live up to
It’s hard to explain but to me at least in my mind
you are a different type of “perfect”
Flawed in all the right ways
proficient where it really matters
In my head you don’t make mistakes
In my head you choose me first so you don’t regret it later
In my head you act rationally
In my head I create fake things


So to answer my question I must decide on an answer
and i choose all of them
because that’s life
that’s what it is
you’ll meet a girl who you feel is perfect for you in every way
except for the fact that she isn’t
and it won’t make sense
and it will drive you crazy
and you’ll write some stupid poem at a late hour trying to find an answer to your question
until you realize it doesn’t matter
because you’re young and she’s young
because there are mistakes to be made
nights to be forgotten
people to meet
places to see
and all the while there is time to sit down
to really ponder and finally come to the conclusion
that You
yes You
are not the one I end up with

It's not the same

Your dress looks beautiful
the weather is fantastic
this restaurant you picked
amazing
the waiter
delightful

It's not the same

What did Gina tell you?
That her bladder is so small that she has to ***
every time she washes her hands?
that's hilarious
how inconvenient

It's not the same

Pass the salt
no the other salt
haha
I know that's pepper
what a cute smile you have when you're playing a joke

It's not the same

Always the jokester
never serious

It's not the same

Did you smile like that when you let him touch you it's not the same

What a beautiful dress you have
can I try some of your pasta
wow
delicious
you know I heard it was supposed to storm out in--

It's not the same

I think I'm going to use the restroom
*** even though you don't even have to
Now that I am washing my hands I do
I'm no better than ******* Gina
Don't punch the wall

It's not the same

You forgave her
she apologized
she had to apologize
punch the wall

It's not the same

Finish washing your hands
Compose yourself
You love her
and she loves you
she always did
she made a mistake
we all make mistakes

It's not the same

not like that
we don't all do that
THAT
is not normal
Hi
Honey yes, they do have towels in the bathroom
no I didn't know they used to make creme brulee here
why did they stop?
wow amazing
why did you stop?

It's not the same

I look tired?
Works been crazy
good lie
you're worrying
she doesn't know
or care

It's not the same

You forgave her
That doesn't mean I have to
because I know
as well as you do
as much as you try to fight it




It's not the same

I hate to admit my feelings
because to admit makes them real
and in my experience real things end
eventually
so i'll keep it to myself
and maybe whisper it softly
so if you listened real hard
then maybe you might hear it
I can't explain how I feel about you
I'm not in love with you
nor am I infatuated with you
but I want to drink coffee and eat biscuits with you
want to look up from the newspaper and see you
pick up the telephone and hear you
reach across the bed and feel you
I want to be near you
To admit is to make it real
to be real is to end
so I guess this is goodbye
to someone who was once
a very dear friend