I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,

but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

Looking down on the tops,
Of buildings in the city.
People surfing in flip flops,
All so itty bitty.

Then the Lake of Salt in Utah,
And the Rockies' peaks.
Below us people never saw,
Our small gasoline leak.

We were almost down to earth,
in Penn's chocolate town.
When the plane's strong girth,
Burst and then went crashing down.

Then flames engulfed the engines first,
The wings were next to burn.
The people all around me cursed,
As my stomach began to churn.

I could feel the flames fast falling,
Popping filled my ears.
The stranger next to me was calling,
A daughter who was in tears.

He didn't know how to tell
a young girl he wouldn't be back.
I watched him closely as we fell.
He looked to me and said, "I'm Jack."

My last thought before the chaos,
Was that this man was kind.
Amid a world of dread lay us.
But to it, Jack was blind.

Where the city kisses sky,
And the wind hugs the trees,
Your image is held holy,
And remembered in my mind.

And when the oceans waves sing out,
With the rocks on which they pound,
It compares not to your voice,
So divine is that pure sound.

No feeling can compare,
To the thrills that you supply,
When you simply use your hand,
To gently hold mine.

Feeling self destructive
How does one feel so?
I wouldn't know how
But I know how it goes

I'll get ******* at everyone
Turn of the telly and cut the tube
I'll say to myself, "I'm ******* done."
And I'll not sleep, like normal

Music won't do its good deeds
I'll smoke half a cigarette,
But put it out & do some speed
I'm just kidding, I don't do speed

I'll grind my teeth a little
Feel my eyes tighten into suspicion
Play the world's smallest fiddle
For my own sorry ***

I inhale
until the fabric of my lungs burn
stretched
and then collapse

I still feel cheated

did you steal the oxygen too?
or maybe just enough
that I'd never feel full

punishment
for surviving
I suppose

whenever there's a need,
a gap to fill, imbalance,
you find a way to help,
to pull up in your old
white toyota that we
always know is yours
by the flashy lei hung
around the rear-view --
to say "*******" to
whatever scales we
seem to be required
to conform to, and
fix everything with
your jagged defiance
(or ruin it, but that's
how it is when you're
dealing with scales).

i can't express the joy
(and relief) that hit
me harder than you
hit the brakes, when
you pulled up today;
you were all dolled up,
just enough makeup
to bring out your blues
with the single gold streak
in the left you share with
another, and to accentuate
the soft angles of humble
cheekbones, followed by
black cashmere and jeans
that kept their blue only
by the notes in navy ink
scribbled onto them like
a hundred school children
had used them as paper bits
but forgotten to pass them on.

it was a clear sky cutting
through the trees kind of day,
and we consumed it with all
the relish we could muster
in light of recent events, which
i've always thought is a funny
phrase considering the events
transpiring recently were the
very essence of dark times;
but we chose to navigate
away from such topics, even
though they were all plaguing
our minds -- like
the fact that reality has driven
mercilessly into you like an
industrial-grade nail gun;
your ash, your little light
was stolen away from you,
and even though it's probably
for the best, no one ever said
you had to be ready for that.
or like the nifty new pills
you've been taking to ****
your emotions like bacteria
and let their unicellular corpses
drip away in the shower drain;
better them than crimson from
the canyons carved into you
by the raging rivers of this life.

and even still, you retain such
goodness in you, such wisdom,
but the sandpaper hardships
have worn down your caution
and sometimes it seems like
you're ready to say "**** it"
once again and throw
the whole plank into the fire
to keep the rest of us warm.

you are more than
those memories
than the bruises on your heart

more than folded corners
marking passages
that feel like home

more than what you lack
and
more than what you have

you are
more than enough