She watched the clock and traced the bruises that peppered her pale skin
She counted the days till the end and kept track of her every sin
When the sun was up, she was a lamb: lovely, kind, polite
At night she was a lioness, with a quick and vengeful bite
She drowned in wine and whiskey, and a cigarette here or there
She wasted her time with silly boys, but to love, she wouldn’t dare
Her life was short and meaningless, but she refused to give up control
Until that tragic midnight hour when the sadness took its toll
So that night she finished her drink, and with God, she made a truce
And without looking back, she gave herself to the loving embrace of a noose

Just maybe time will run away and leave life behind
Say you’ll continue to stay away just to keep me alive

Mean words and sweet faces won’t reason with goodbye
Things change, you cared, and hope walked a thousand miles

Standing, looking, assuming
Bury those old eyes you thought were blooming  

The truth is sitting in the dark, waiting for you to shine the light
You were promised death, and life forgot to teach you to fight

The world choked on it’s dreams and crashed into a fence
Love missed it’s stop, and now I’m left in suspense  

Happiness is locked in the room next door,
We’d try to find the key if only our feet were flat on the floor

I’ll pour my hate down the sink and proceed to turn my back
Melt the snow with the glow of my smile so I can no longer see the tracks

it bothers me that
arpeggiated piano
still incites in me
[saudade(for you)] on
these empty evenings;
and it bothers me that
this silly irish girl
feels the same way
i do, and that your
sister shares a name
rooted in gaelic, just
like her; and now i
might be grasping
at straws, but never
have i told a bigger
truth than when i
say i find the most
arbitrary ways to
remind myself of
you, or accurately,
the lacking thereof.

and it bothers me that
the only seeming cure
is to purge (myself) of
you with [ballads sung
by sobbing ivory keys],
like [baking soda] to a
(bee sting), drawing
out the venom drops
of your last acidic kisses,
and neutralizing them
in the stark alkalinity
of these spare words,
little more than dimes
dropped into the tin
cup or upturned hat
of the beggar i have
become.

heretofore i had
let slip from my
conscious mind
your grace, and
how jolting the
reminder was,
like north and
south attracting
again, slamming
into each other
in a fit of [profane]
polarity.
                 until now,
  the little quirks and
quips we shared were
not evident, or i didn't
let them be, anyways.
still, the intensity with
which you sing to me
and i to you again can't
be stolen by an audience,
or outmatched by instrumentation,
because the wisdom of
the greatest libraries
pales in comparison to the
  volumes still in the telling
by those pools conveniently
placed in your skull for the
world to admire.

i am a daredevil for walking
down the yellow line all the
way home, until i remember
my road doesn't have one.

i am a maverick because i
notice little things like the
resemblance of a fire pistol
trigger to gold and nickel.

i am a boy because i have
not reached manhood.
i am a god because i do
not believe.

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.