the
     sky
           was
can    dy    lu
minous
            edible
spry
        pinks shy
lemons
greens    coo    1 choc
olate
s.

  un    der,
  a    lo
co
mo
      tive        s  pout
                               ing
                                     vi
                                     o
                                     lets

Like the cigarette burn on my left forearm
You left a mark
A mark that reminds me
That you were here
Reminds me of a time
When the colors were vibrant with life

These struggles put the strain
Of anxiety on my soul
Lost ever since that mark was seared
Now looking for the light
The love
To remove
The one that left the mark on my heart

a.) a crossed off to-do list
b.) crumpled toilet paper, used as a tissue
c.) white paper, rumpled but never used
d.) raisins
e.) sins
f.) a green plastic bottlecap, inscribed with the waves of a far away sea
g.) a mechanical pencil, out of lead
h.) a bobby pin, rendered useless due to short hair
i.) a small piece of string
j.) the small piece of my heart which contained affection for my father
k.) just kidding, that never existed
l.) the sleeves i cut off of a tshirt
m.) the heart i cut off of my sleeve
n.) a ****** poem about alcoholism
o.) the self loathing that weighed me down for nearly a year
p.) a list of the different gym classes available
q.) q tips, in the interest of alliteration
r.) one very old, very ***** sock

He's a writer for sure
Every ounce of him.
That's why he stopped
Drinking wine,
Except for Wednesdays
Of course.
He has a taste for
Cigarettes and the hard stuff.
The stuff that's going
To make him forget
About all the things
He's going to write about in the morning.
But really,
How could he forget
Every single moment
Of his entire life.
He's not arrogant
But **** the devil if he's humble.
No, he's just used to
Being kicked in the face.
And he's good at it.
So why stop now?
Every morning is a hangover
And every night
Is another reason
To write down everything
Because **** everyone
Who tells him no
He's too **** good at it.
Let's drink to that tonight.

I was looking for words
on the day that you left me
I'd been looking for words
for a while by then
and I guess you expected
that saying you'd leave me
would spark some epiphany

but you left me exactly the way
that I was
speechless
and searching for words
that would fix everything but
nothing was perfect enough

and hours
to days
to weeks of thinking it over
left me standing there
speechless
with nothing to say to you

but that was the reason
you left in the first place
I couldn't stick *******
two words on a line

I couldn't speak
love
into existence
I couldn't speak
passion
I couldn't feel
life

and when words finally came
they came
one
at
a
time
first came
****
and then
*******
I guess two was enough

there once was a turtle named Otto
who called all the Mexicans "vato"
but now he's in heaven
choir turtle eleven
with a rather nice little vibrato

how
does one put
into words
the infinite beauty
of love?