~
She leans over the sink
weight on her toes
to applied lipstick
in quick certain strokes,
the way a man signs
his hundredth signature
of the morning.

With lips of convictionless curvature
as the lipstick retracted like a red eel
all day she left her mark
on everything she kissed.
Even the air remarks
like intoxicating news
whispered from ear to ear.
~

Each morning I awake.

Each morning I am aware
that I am the me that
went to bed last night.

The same me.

And I experience
a vast feeling
of disappointment.

I pray for the day
that I awake
and am
someone
else.

I never know what say  

a memory of longing
is painful as it keeps

decaying in my chest

putting my love on paper
doesn't take it away
it amplifies the sting
trying to move on

infecting the open cavity of my being

you read my words like you understand
but I'm lost in a memory of what would have been

trying to collect shattered pieces of my own self

emptied and dancing whisked into the shadows
like the end of a dream

feverishly waking up because my feelings weren't received

give them but don't get them
like as if I sent a letter of longing

never in return