Hey, sometimes Bob Dylan changes your mind.
Like how you're thinking' Cohen and then you
Go to the closet where the records are hid and
Face-high you're being stared at by that man
On the cover of
"Bringing It All Back Home"
And you quietly apologize
And wish him a belated happy birthday
And light a cig
And turn the world on
Outside your open slider door
For what always feels like the first time.

Hey, sometimes it takes a whole poem to give you something to do.

You asked me
"if you were a flower
what would you be?"
I said I'd be a red
Amaryllis
because they bleed
before they die
just as my heart
bled
for each day
you were gone.

© Sia Jane

last time I saw you,
I sunk into film
until my eyes were deep enough
to see that off-white show flickering
in the distance.
over and over again,
the leading male’s heroine
with red lips and sharp shoulders
stuck the needle in the bend of her arm
until her windows were worth a quarter each
and her bubble gum
was infected.
yes,
your cinematography is gripping:
I can almost see what she doesn’t want you to know
I can almost see her mother’s first chance
to become her father’s last chance
at owning a pick-up truck
with blankets in the back
and two dimes and a nickel
worth of whatever you are now.
lady,
this placebo effect
has gone too far.
you are not the main attraction
to this drive-in,
your name should only be in lights
when you want it to be.

Those comets moving through space
They take so long to return
I think a thousand years is too long to hurt

I knew from the very first moment that you would break my heart. It was part of your charm, I thought I was ready to be broken again, mostly because I thought you would put me back together after. I should have known that people like you come in like a hurricane, leaving everything in ditty ruins.

Your words dropped into my heart like pebbles into a pool,
Rippling around my breast and leaving it melting cool.

Your kisses fell sharp on my flesh like dawn-dews from the limb,
Of a fruit-filled lemon tree when the day is young and dim.

But a silence vasty-deep, oh deeper than all these ties
Now, through the menacing miles, brooding between us lies.

And more than the songs I sing, I await your written word,
To stir my fluent blood as never your presence stirred.