Dear love, I fear I am missing your light.
For your sweet hand keeps slipping out of mine.

you have a hundred secret names & I am the world’s worst shoplifter. you know what I mean? it’s like it’s 1992 & we’re so happy for cigarettes & de la soul & lightning bugs & **** like that. sometimes I wish you knew someone exactly like me who wasn’t so obsessed with your freckles. they make me hurt like alligator teeth. I want you to be all fists & bruises like tiny sparrows on my face. I want you to be a handgun muzzled into my gut.

Raindrops collect in the cracks of the windowsill.
Tears acrobat out of my almond eyes,
My heart is a black flower crumbling in ashes.

I would die a hundred times for my heart to meet yours.
The wet magnolia petals in the churchyard
root my weeping into the ground.

Tylenols for the depths of fever,
in sunrise of morning, my eyes are stained pink.
Dreams of never-ending fall from atop a building, coming to you.

Mist of pine-needles brush stone-carved grave beneath me,
Whisper prayer to beloved on my knees,
roses, daisies, marigolds in vase water the beauty of him.

Maybe I'm a little sad. Sometimes its hard to smile. Sometimes theres nothing to smile about. What do you do when everyone is moving and you just can't? I'm stuck. I don't know what to do. I never know what to do. And you know what? I don't think I'll ever know what to do. Sometimes its just easier to hide under my covers and ignore everyone. Ya know, sometimes I even ignore myself. Did you know that was possible? Because it is. Its one of my talents. Ignoring myself. Maybe I'm a little more than just 'sad'. Maybe I'm insane.

All she ever dreamed of was to be your lover
She’ll never hear the word love
without feeling your heart beat in her soul
But after more than a year and three months
You threw it all away
You led her on just to let her go
Falling out of love is hard
But falling for betrayal is worse
You once told her told her to look in the mirror
and smile when she is feeling sad
But when looking there’s no smile
Just a broken heart

Your body, is a city. Your skin, winding streets I loose myself in.

All my old pals sleep in beds far from my sea,
the days we meet are so far between.
We're all off, eatin' foreign bread, being free.
Saving our years to share what we've seen.

You are like a hot cup of coffee on December mornings.
An ice-cold shower in the middle of july.
You are rain tapping out secret messages on my window, whispering untold stories of our future on an island not known to man.
I am going to love you as fiercely as ocean winds that rip through the clouds like tigers' teeth and bear claws.
Like wolves making midnight wishes on amber moons that resonate across the sky that twinkles like movie-star smiles and shake every last tree in the forest.

Us living as we do upside down. 
And the new word to have is revolution. 
People don't even want to hear the preacher 
spill or spiel because God's whole card has been thoroughly piqued. 
And America is now blood and tears instead of milk and honey. 
The youngsters who were programmed to continue 
******* up woke up one night digging 
Paul Revere and Nat Turner as the good guys. 
America stripped for bed and we had not all yet closed our eyes.
The signs of Truth were tattooed across our open ended ******. 
We learned to our amazement untold tale of scandal. 
Two long centuries buried in the musty vault, 
hosed down daily with a gagging perfume. 
America was a ******* the illegitimate daughter of the mother country 
whose legs were then spread around the world 
and a ****** known as freedom, free doom. 
Democracy, liberty, and justice were revolutionary code names 
that preceded the bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling 
in the mother country's crotch
What does Webster say about soul?
All I want is a good home and a wife
and a children and some food to feed them every night.
After all is said and done build a new route to China if they'll have you.
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?

She can feel a change, she's looking for it.
But she's a smart girl who wears lots of sweaters and drinks cocoa.
She talks about books and issues and kisses in the rain.
Yet, she slightly mutilates the natural state of her body in order to be deemed acceptable.
She is unconventionally beautiful.
And *she does her loving in the winter time.

On some nights
all things feel like
they have been
done before.

Tonight, if you listen closely
you can hear the night sky
breaking apart
as all young and beautiful
things do.

The apples
on the tree
taste sweeter
this year.
I know you have waited patiently
but that does not speed
my coming. I hear in my head
on the nights that I am quiet.
I cannot keep on like this.

The world is upside down.

I think he’s building a sandcastle
He says to me slyly
of our cat jumping
maniacally at the wall.

I smile, but do not feel it
too quick to anger,
out of control
and ever changing.

I comfort myself with minutia,
lists and a false sense of control.

You can curse
the weather man
but you cannot
change his
predicting.

It was easy to love him. Maybe because his heart sounded honest when I pressed my ear against his chest. Kah-thump. Kah-thump. I will never leave you. Kah-thump. Kah-thump. We could lay here forever. Kah-thump. Kah-thump. We can turn into a pile of entangled bones and dust. Kah-thump. Kah-thump.

Maybe it was because I have always believed in happy endings. I like to shut off Titanic right in the middle and pretend it never sank; pretend Rose and Jack got off that ship and had ten cute, artistic, red-headed babies and spent their lives laughing and drinking beer and reminiscing of the time they met on that great big boat. I never let myself watch the end. The romantic in me won’t allow it.

Or it could have just been the fact that he was the first boy I ever loved, and there’s something really intoxicating about the first time you fall in love. It’s like chugging a whole bottle of whiskey – it burns and it tingles and you feel kind of sick and the world becomes a huge blur of laughter and inhibition.

I remember the exact moment I realized I loved him. We were laying in his bed and a song by George Barnett came on. The one about Thor, angles and heaven above. I loved this song, and he knew that so he started to sing. He started to sing and it sounded like a cat that was being slowly strangled and I laughed and pressed my palms against my ears and he just sang louder. When I went to escape the awful droning of his off-key melody, he pressed me tightly against himself and nibbled lightly on my ear and I knew in that moment that if I could be anywhere with anyone – if I could stand on the Eiffel Tower with Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley and lightly sip champagne as we discussed the good ol’ days of Hollywood-- I wouldn’t. I would be right there in that tiny twin sized bed that just barely had room enough for both of us as long as he held me close, listening to this gangly boy sing this wonderful song.

It was in that moment I knew I was in love. I knew I was ******.

After that all I wanted to do was say it. We would be ordering chinese food and I’d think “I feel like having something other than seseame chicken. I love you.” We’d be driving down the road and he’d be ******* about construction and I’d think “Yeah, it is annoying that it takes thirty minutes just to get down 33rd but I love you.” My love for him infected everything I did. He was the most beautiful virus I had ever been plagued by.

Relatively speaking, it was barely a blimp on the vast radar of a lifetime. I can’t remember the start and end dates exactly. I don’t remember much about that year at all, actually, except that it was filled with breathless kisses and nervous firsts. I remember that he always smelled of laundry detergent. He lived in the basement, which was also where the washer and dryer was kept. and the smell of fresh clean clothes and Tide stayed embedded in his skin. I still breathe in deeply when I walk into the detergent isle at smiths. Habit, I suppose. It always transports me back to then. It was one of the best years of my life.

We broke up eventually. He never told me why. But in the end it was really just life. Life has a way of changing the most permanent things into temporary ones. Thankfully, it can do the same with a broken heart.

I’d like to know he ended up happy.

I plan on falling in love again, too. Each time its own masterpiece. My heart is my romantic Michelangelo. Every time it beats it produces a new and beautiful Sistine Chapel, but instead of paint, it is pain and pleasure that spatters against the ceiling.

He is still my favorite piece, though. Our love is my most treasured creation, even if it only lives through memories. It lives in a young girl’s laughter, in an awkward boy’s terrible singing voice, in the innocence of two teenage lovers between the sheets, who haven’t yet experienced the pain that echoes within the terrible truth that love is sometimes not enough.

Every now and then when I’m feeling old or unoriginal or just depressed, I pull out the memory of my first love and his strong, honest heart. I replay my favorite parts in my head. I smile at what I see. I’d like to think he does too.

Every time she is near me I am assaulted by memories
I would rather forget. Her perfume will not leave my senses.
Her face my dreams.
Every time we pass must we make idle conversation?
Let us be better people and pretend to watch birds singing in the trees.
At least they are happy.
Walk through me if not around me. I am more spirit now.
Men would give up completely without their delusions.
Look at me for example. Being over her is easy. I do it every day.
Till morning wanes to afternoon.
Three hours since I thought her name. Or put my head in an oven.
She passes me in the corridor wishing me well and everything aches
Greys. Falls like snow against the window pane.
I forget half the words she says, but know every inch of the warmth
She has granted me with those wide and welcome arms.
How can she be so blind? And yet so lovely.
I have seen her walk around a fly so as not to hurt it.
And yet she kills me so easily. Drowned in kisses.
Yes. Nice to see you too. You look well.
Perfection.
No I have not met someone else yet. Yes. I deserve the best.
But I do not want the best. I want her.
You think me alive? You are talking to a ghost.
Let me be, breath and I shall forgive all evils.
Leave me alone and I shall feel the warmth of the sun
Again on my cheeks.
Tomorrow I shall be free. Tomorrow she will lose her power over me.
But today is all I need. Today I will say hello.
And ask she never leave me.

Hey, did you know that I know you lied?

Here I am again, writing in my car, and this time I can't pretend that we are friends. We're not friends, friends don't do the things we did and the ones you've done since then makes think we've never been.

When is this night gonna end? Are you lying in her bed? All these questions hit my head.. Hey where's the whiskey at again?

You were discombobulated when you showed up at my door, leaving glitter on my floor.
*But I don't like you anymore.

Dancing slowly, I feel you there
Close to my heart, where you have always been
A thousand times your voice has spoken
Hidden dreams in the center of my soul

I have searched the faces of others with no hope
And now I can see it is you I have waited for
Wanting you here, touching my life
Safe in your arms, I am home at last.

You know the twists my tongue will take
The angel feints, the devil’s fake
In the mind of a wayward romance
Crashing, Jumping, Dodging, Loving, Laughing, Breathing
And the ways we move, your kiss, it leads.

A tangled dress, a trail behind
I’ll take the trail, despite I’m blind
On a road to a peril, a chance
Halos, Darkness, Angel Kisses, Devil’s Beds And
We will dance, you see, and pause, rewind.

I know the twists your tongue will take
The devil feints, the angel’s fake
Of the heart of a beaten romance
Beating, Meeting, Crying, Kneeling, Facing, Running
To the time of chaos, void of God.

I feel as though we dance in step
A tune to break, instead of keep
So perhaps I can stop tapping my feet,
At least for a little while.
Please, cease the music.

In the spring, we fall in love; you and me. Together, we stay up all night. We dream of the future, and dissect the past. We wonder how we got here. We decide that we don't care; you and me. Together, that's how it should be. We spend hours lying in your bed, learning the curves and lines of each other's body. We go on dates that we don't call dates, because to put a label on what we are would only stifle things. We're not really sure what this is anyways, but we like it; you and me. Together, we think we are unstoppable. You are not normal, but that's okay, because neither am I. Our instabilities and insecurities balance each other. We are like yin and yang; you and me. Together, we are whole.

In the summer, you and I grow weary. Apart, we drift away. We slash at each other with words and fists. We fight and make up, and fight and don't make up. You and I are breaking. Apart, we start to shatter. The heat drives you mad, and you take it out on me. I get restless in the warmth, and begin to fly away. You and I are still together, but the cracks are beginning to show. Further and further apart we go. We stretch until one of us simply has to snap. You break first, diving head deep into your insanities, and breaking me in the process. You and I have gotten completely out of hand. Apart, perhaps we can heal?

In the fall, I attempt to heal myself. I do not hear from you, I do not wish to. I spend time putting myself back together again. I am a puzzle, and even I, am unsure of what the final picture will be. I try to pick myself up from the mess that you have made of me. I still have heard nothing from you, and I am still grateful for that fact. You have wounded me deeply, perhaps deeper than anyone knew. You have made your scars on both my heart and soul. I spend time doing things for myself, so that I can remember who I am. There is still silence from you; I do not miss you. I have begun to learn to live again. I even begin to flirt with the idea of love again. I believe that I have finally found myself again. I hear from you at last, a simple message; I am glad, because I have missed you as a friend.

In the winter, we come together again. We set boundaries, and know that we can still be friends. We start to talk again, little things, at first. But soon, we are telling all our secrets again. We are closer than normal friends, but then again, when have we ever been normal? We have no demands of each other this time around. The only thing we ask is a pair of ears to speak to. And together, we oblige. We spend time in public places, never alone, where we can't get into trouble. It is nice for us to share with each other again. We are more than we could have ever dreamed of being. But we still are not lovers, nor are we in love; this is a good thing. As winter begins to thaw, we grow closer and closer. And finally on the cusp of spring, we kiss, and the cycle begins anew.

I never did tell you the truth,
I thought one day I would meet you again
and that would be the time for honesty.
I would tell you how everything I became was because of you and,
how you served as a constant reminder
of how sweet love could be.

Every night I prayed to God to give me one more day with you
but he would always say:
“The path of an angel cannot be determined by the desperation of one stupid girls heart.”
He was right.

I always wonder what could have been though,
if I didn’t feel like a stranger in my own city
maybe we would have…

who knows.

Because now I’m far away,
chasing a dream that you unknowingly inspired
and even though I have new surroundings,
new friends and new faces.
All I think of is you.

Every achievement, every accolade, every smile,
is yours.
I regret you never knew that
and I’m sorry it has taken me this long to tell you
but I struggled to find the words so,
forgive me.

I love you.
I mean that not in the typical romantic sense
but in a sense words cannot even explain
I,
just know I love you.


I hope you never forget me,
and all your wishes come true.
And there should be double the chance
because every time you wish on star
I wish on one too.
For you.

So my beautiful first love,
may the droplets of sunshine forever rain on your life.
May they light up the sky,
the way you still light up my dreams, at night.

In the quiet moments
Buried in the depths of darkness
You are right there beside me
Surrounding my every sense
Whispering your truths from lover's lips

My soul is at peace with yours
Reassured of the promises made
From the man who cradles this heart
Never to let it slip away and break
I have needed you for so long

You speak my very name
It is the sweetest sound
Of love I have ever known
A fire burning so brightly
The beacon to call home

One with you, in harmony
Feeling your presence on the wind
Taking me higher and higher
I close my eyes and I am there
Wrapped inside your golden wings

You are all that I know
Taking me to those places
That only dreamers have seen
A song playing low and slow
Collected in the memories of our story

*In the quiet moments...

inside my chest is a coalmine. you have the raddest eyes I’ve ever seen & you hair smells like rain. I want to call you on the telephone & tell you a secret about your freckles. I wanna call you shakedown. I wanna call you shotgun. do you want to make a movie? I got this camera, see, & a backyard like forever, & when it snows it’s like the whole world is one giant pickup line. my body in a wooden box & you just like holes for breathing. if I’m lying my neck is a bird. free. the truth is skin & skin. your red and grey beanies. a stick of dynamite between my teeth.

At night, when the day dips
into darkness,
I go to the ocean
and think of
you

my memory searches
for the look on your face
and the way goodbye
sounded on your
lips

you sailed into an
endless dream
and I still don’t know
where your feet
have been

and on the horizon
where the water sways
I hope one day
I’ll see your
face.

In my dream you come to love me.
Beautiful in your winged glory,
all welcome smiles and light.

And I reach out to touch you.
Forbidden, my hands deadly
weapons to your fragile state.
Yet you do not back away.

Feeling my fingers numb
against the smooth silver
of your breast plate, I knew:
I was saved.

Do you still remember that day?

The day that we met, walking around sears, holding hands?

Do you still remember that night?

The cool air, how I kissed your cheek, after making love on your trampoline?

Do you still remember that kiss?

Our first?

Our last?

Its not that easy for me, why don't you tell me who you were expecting to come tonight.
And if I were not myself than I could be who you want me to be;
but first, you tell me who you were expecting tonight.

a girl at school smells like purple bubble gum, like she took off all her clothes after being stuck outside during a thunderstorm & if I could tell her why her arms are boss, why her neck is boss, why her hips are boss, I imagine she would bandage me softly like winter.

You make my knees
sway like the limbs of
a tree in a harsh wind
when you walk by;
your words make me blush
like a sweet summer rose—
you make my heart sing
songs of adulation that
nest in the heart like birdsong;
I could spend
an eternity in your arms,
and not be bored with the outcome.
In a world where
nothing lasts — let’s make
ourselves a promise:
let’s last.

I'm sitting in the bed with one
thinking of the other
thinking of all the futures that could be
can be
if I just jump
if things just are
the things I'll say
the things I'll need to say
to love the one I love
as keenly as I loved the one I love.

How right is right and how much does right matter?
What is right and what is wrong and how much does it matter?
Is time the judge or is time the test?

my heart is a flipflop hopeless romantic,
rolling on through dreams of ideal days.
Almost kisses, almost brushes, almost moments, almost futures.
Real things, ephemeral things,
things that grasp, things that hold,
such sand between thinning fingers.

He is perfect, he is perfect.
One in one way.
The other in another.

Who do I choose for the future?

Who am I?
Who am I meant to be?

Float inside, around and through my heart
You'll find memories glued underneath other memories
So no one will know they are there
….but me
Memories too precious, painful
To be left in the open
Draw near my heart and gaze at all that is around you
There's brown eyed babies happily calling for mommy
A humble man on his knees praying and believing deeply in his wife
Dreams still trying to bloom, desires kept in undisclosed places
Something so beautiful you'll want to leave my heart immediately
Glimpses so intimate you'll close your eyes
Dreams of my children, my husband
Too divine to look at with earthy eyes
Inside of me whispers of a world. A secret world.
There's laughing children and praying men,
screaming fathers and crying mothers.
A childhood scorched with tears and fears and nightmares.
Yet love poring into every fracture and splintering edge.
Every piece of my heart is gently pieced back to itself with utmost affection.
You'll find a world you may not be ready to linger in.
But you're welcome to try.
Because maybe, just maybe you'll make it your home.
And,
You could be the one to find it home,
while you're on your knees, praying and believing….

Love is a dismal word. Its cold, and uncaring. Why should it care though, its so widely used these days that it bares no meaning. I’ve said it half a dozen times. And every time I swore to god I meant it. And every time they believed me. They took my word for it, hell, they all said it back too. And I just smiled crookedly and kept on doing what I was doing. I never had a shred of remorse. I never flinched. I could keep a straight face with a five high hand. I never even let on that I was lying.

You’re looking for a love story, maybe a chase in order to get the girl I’ve been striving and yearning after my whole life. But I can tell you now, that’s not what you’re getting yourself into. Instead I have strategically planned out a twisted tail in hopes that you’ll follow along and find something that you are familiar with. But even in the case that you don’t, that everything you read in my jambalaya of words is totally off base with everything that you’re looking for, I hope you have a good laugh, or a good cry.

I don’t want to get to off track though, lets go back to love. The word, in essence, is a metaphor for the human condition. It’s a total sham, a crook and a lie. At least that’s all I’ve ever seen. Between parents lying to each other, high school sweethearts, and the tails of misfortune that you read in magazines and the newspaper, I, like you, grew up in a word surrounded by a lie possessing what we wish love could be. It’s a terribly depressing thing, love is, that we all most feel like we’ve succumb to the social pressure of love.

We all want to feel needed, that’s something that I personally have been striving myself to avoid, strictly based upon the fact that I know what I become, who I become when I need to feel needed. We all get that urge sometimes, to do what ever you can to get someone to just say that they love, because you are in love with instant gratification. One simple word can dictate our feeling of remorse, and turn it upside down, and make it into something it simply isn’t.

It’s a terrible addiction that we’ve all acquired. You can disagree, you could just put this short few sheets of dead trees away, but inside, somewhere, sometime, you’ve agreed with me. I want you to dig down as deep as you can and realize that simple fact. Just please, listen, for a second. I want you to feel what I’m saying as if coming from your own mouth. I want you to know for a fact that the love that you feel for someone is simple a lie that you’ve built around guilt to shelter yourself from further damage.

I’m sure there is someone out there that has found the actual love, the true love as some might say. I don’t know the actually polls, the actual facts. But, in my book, all I ever see is a silhouette, a shadow if you will, of that love. Something bigger then it really is, something darker, colder. I want you to feel passionate is all. That is all.

I need you now, I surrender at last
Hold out your hands for my tormented past
You are the light that shines brightly for me
A beacon in the night, you have set me free.

Went to the coffee shop, they say is the most
Went by myself, and no one noticed
Wonder if I looked like a tourist
All that I could think, was please don't blow this

Who knew one expression could make your heart melt.
With one **** of the lips everything changes.
That sweet, soft mouth, becoming perfect,
each one is different, but only one blows you away.

This one movement makes everything seem perfect,
and makes the sun shine brighter.
Everything is so much better with this expression.
Everyone is better too.

A smile changes your face,
but the smile changes your life.
The smile with the crooked teeth,
and the lips barely covering their surface.

We’ve all got that smile within us,
it’s just trying to come through.
It becomes breathtaking,
the light of love, can’t help but shine through.

The moment you have this smile,
you become this perfect everything.
You make the sun shine brighter,
and most importantly you make their heart flutter.

I love waking up in the morning, smelling like you
My sheets smell like you
Even my thoughts smell like you.

For now, I’ll stay here
Tangled up in me
Smelling like you.

Incidentally,
you are supposed to go back
to those damp fog blue memories.
Sure, the special cologne hours
still somehow linger
in certain Spring lilac breezes.
You must refuse them.
Of course, often in snarling traffic tangles
the radio waves carry a song
to reclaim a date, a special day or moment.
You must avoid it. Please.
If a pair of gentle hands should hold you,
just so you know,
no matter what - don’t squeeze back.
Beware that crazy butterfly mercury magic.
It’s gone.
And if you ever return -
I’ll be waiting.

You're okay now, I suppose
You're not pulled by the rope
I'm pulled by the pull on my throat
I'm pulled by the rope
I swing from the trees into the *****
Hold my head high, just by the tip of my toes
And he lies, he lies so sweet that I choke

you are sharp as glass and predictable
as the hands of a clock; I know when
you are coming before you appear. you leave
a trail of broken memories after you: a silver
stain of all the tears you've stolen from me, all
the women that fell subject to your tyrannical
love, but I am not like all of them before me.
I will not regret what we had; only what
we've become. and I won't miss your singing
or guitar playing or demanding insistence to do
things your way; I'm no longer a *******, love.

I miss feeling his heartbeat.
It was always so loud
And comforting.
I miss falling asleep on his chest
I miss crying in his arms
Crying is so lonely
Without him here to hold me
I miss holding his hand
I miss kissing him
I miss the way he would
Run his tongue along my lips
Playfully, jokingly
I miss the way he made me laugh
I miss his smile
His gorgeous smile
I miss watching him
As he walked beside me, holding my hand
Not a care in the world
I miss the way he laughed at me
Whenever I said something silly
With his eyebrows raised
And his crooked smile
I miss the way he would tickle me
I miss how he would promise things
And always follow through
I miss the way he would answer
The questions in the songs on the radio
I miss his silence
As he let me sing every song on the radio
I miss hugging him
I miss feeling his arms around me
In his tye-dye shirts
I miss him.
So much.

Love is a dance, a dance of hands
Of faces, of smiles, touches, kisses, eyes.

Love is a movement, a groove to the tune of a song
A dance to a beat that only the heart hears.

Love is the pull of a silver heart string,
The silvered sound, the tone of instrumental awakening.

Love is the call
That comes up from the muezzin of the heart
Calling the faithful to God
With sweet, heavenly song.

I love new love when its new.

Thought I could honestly say
I was over you
But my lips cannot suppress
A whisper of your name
From passing through

Memories flood every crack
Of my broken heart
Loneliness creeps around
In the quiet moments
There is no escaping its depths

You will never know
What it meant to love you
Now I'm falling apart inside
Because losing my dreams
Is the hardest part of all

Silence darkens the doorway
At last, I have seen the truth
So I turn my eyes away
From the day you never came back
Leaving too many things unsaid.

Hold me tighter beautiful. That's better. I know what you're saying sweet pea, the way I see it, you'll always be a hell of a wild ride.

I left him sleeping where he lay
Preparing my heart to walk away
Tearing down walls we built so high
No words to explain, no tears to cry

He said hold on, but I couldn't wait
All his promises were made too late
Dreams of a dreamer and empty poet
He saved my life, but didn't know it

Once, I took the hand he held out for me
Trusting me with all, setting him free
With words of love written in our eyes
We knew we would never speak of goodbye

Strangers now, where hope lives alone
Buried in the dark, cold as stone
With nothing more to give, I turned my head
I left him sleeping, in our timeworn bed.

I feel your tender lips upon my soft skin
Retracing the trail where your fingers caressed
The flames lick higher, bearing your name
And I hear your voice whispered in my soul

I close my eyes and the darkness surrounds me
But you are there, seeking every one of my senses
Tempting my desires and holding me prisoner
To the passion ignited in our lonely bodies

I taste the pleasures lingering on your lips
Salty and sweet, capturing my breath inside
And as I find the warmth of your waiting arms
I pray for this moment to never end.

Thanks for everything
Thanks for nothing.
Thanks for the things you said
You’d never do
But did
Anyway.

Thanks for the things you did
For others, for other girls
While I watched.

Thanks for the smiles
Never aimed at me,
Never because of me,
Never lasting.

Thanks for the memories
I’d rather forget,
Wonder what kind of guy
You were.

We lay below the spotted sky
One last time, before goodbye.
My fingers tousled tired hair;
While you slumbered, worn with care.

A voice I loved, humming a tune.
Sweetest sleep, arrived too soon.
The pigeons watched, watched by crows.
What they wondered, whos to know.

A falling sun, a stolen kiss,
A smile, a glimpse,
Of pure bliss.

You think you want to know everything there is to know about everything there is to know. But you don't. Not really. I had pried the lid off the dark places of another person before, I had seen inside. Down deep. You don't want to look at what's rotting there.

My mind felt lately like a building destroyed by a natural disaster, where all I could do is walk around the rubble and wonder what I could possibly do next.

They came to tell your faults to me,
They named them over one by one;
I laughed aloud when they were done,
I knew them all so well before,—
Oh, they were blind, too blind to see
Your faults had made me love you more.

Today
I thought of you
but didn't remember how your face looks
I used to know each crevice and dip in your body
like the back of my hand
the scent of your skin
the warmth of your touch
your voice
they're starting to fade
I'm starting to forget
I'm sorry