What I want so much is for the worst to diminish
And be left with all the good ones
What I want so much is to vanish -
Everything, even myself, all at once

But all I am offered
are time and the awaited remedy
All seems blurred
but right now this is all I can be.

I wanted to write my name in the sand outside your door,
It wasn't far from the beach.
So I wandered down,
just to remind you that I exist,
but, as I wrote on the dry grit,
the wind had the audacity to blow.
I found it rather annoying.
Then the tide cruised the beach,
maybe I meant cursed it.
I knelt down in the remnants of the foam,
stick in hand,
Tried to write it again.
It wasn't happening.
Browbeat, I walked over the rocks,
on to the promenade,
to buy a sickly stick of rock,
maybe a bag of sweets.
(C) Livvi

There's a tiny park a short walk from here
where no one ever goes.
Though it's always abandoned,
I like to walk there when it snows
               'cuz it seems like
                     a relative.

Don't complain to me, my friend
if your face is feeling raw;
It gets cold here in Montana,
and December nights get long.
               and they have not
                   failed me yet.

So salt your frigid frown
and lay down bets on warmer times
in five more months, the thaw will come
and we just might quit rolling snake eyes.
Icy air is not your enemy
and neither are this small city
                                              or I.

The same park, it has a baseball field,
leaf-covered, looking old
the dugout's still in good repair,
but the basepaths overgrown
               remind me of,
           A New Year's alone

Remember one warm night when we thought
we were in the mood
to walk to the convenience store
for some box wine and some food?
               we played cards,
             locked in my room...

Now we're crying California tears
from laughing all night long.
And you don't really hate Montana,
you're just doing Winter wrong.

So lay your anger down
and hedge your bets 'til nicer days
don't stay inside, 'cuz you don't have to.
Graft my smile over your grimace,
this dull white-out's not the end for us
and neither is the bitter cold
                                                   outside.

i found
that suburbian
love-seats
couldn’t hold
the kind of love
i was searching
for

and ***
between
crumbling
couch cushions
slowly became a
tedious night ritual:

mountain
ranges told
me from a
first-time-
glance that
i was worth
more than

a subtle
  "thank
     you.”
whispered
     into the
      curve of my
            breast.

so i left home
with holes in
my pockets
and a period
of harsh
abstinence
hanging over
my chest like

a ******* sword.