The gentle hugs you’d give
The way your arms wrapped
around me as to a blanket
leaving your colognes’ scent

My covers could never
hold me as tightly as you

The thickness of your lips
interfered with my cheek
I could only blush
of the nomadic past

My pillow could never
Kiss me as you did

The sweat on your palm
holding mine, you were nervous
The last whisper of your voice
It was simply perfect


  Could never be replaced by sorrow
Can never be relived by memories

Fine, hate me
I'll never be sorry
for expressing myself
through MY poetry

I write what I like
and so can you
it's always been that way
please, don't twist the rules

you know how much I adore you
despite all we've been through
that will never change
even if we do

coke, cigarettes
and salad
that is all
in my diet

the pressure
on myself
to be thin
is high
above
the radar

ain't got platinum hair
or stilettos up to here
all I have is an average body
I am no skinny mini

I feel the pressure of
our society
it wants us
to be perfect
and stick thin
but I am none
of those things

glamour seems to be
self destruction
and eating disorders
manic depression
and starvation
none of those
are healthy
but our society
they glamorize
our deadly
addictions
and our
unhappy
decisions

I miss the days
when Marilyn Monroe
was seen as a *** symbol
not for a thin appearance
but for her beauty
and captivating curves

your body shape
is something
you shouldn't be ashamed of
you are beautiful
no matter what
it's our society
which really *****

I don't want to get started; I don't know if I have what it takes to stop it, once life is static no longer*

Transient winds dislodge cobwebs from closets--
Silk mist that drifts
(Like half-daydreamed doves from our
Starlight and eyelash ark
Half-reclaimed by the sea)
Across our
New car smell, white-wash wall
Stumble before the fall,
Pick each other up and kiss the gravel off,
Apartment.

I scream "apartment",
To the concrete and steel
Of her skin, a bridge that's
Closed as tightly as her
Proust pressed flower lips.

My faults are
Tattooed across my skin
In full color comic strips.
I tongue the interior dents
Birthed when
She taught me
What apart meant.

I'm 6' 2" and six feet under,
I love like ice and sob like thunder.
All of these canyons in my mind
Will echo with your name for all time
Love a poet? No, love a storm
See your name carved in the landscapes I've torn.
These hands are for making breaks and bruises
With a love like mine everybody loses

Some days I can feel
My skin melt to dust,
Taste the bitter ash of
Burned bridges and rust
As everything revolves away
From me and stops at her feet.
Though, most days I just feel like
A unobserved wave at sea,
Fading quietly into the breeze.

So yeah, I'm good, too.
It was nice to see you.