She lingers in my brain
I hope she's doing okay

Always calling me out

I hurt you
I'm the one to blame

I carry the shame
You play the victim
it doesn't make sense

You're hurt
You're sad

It doesn't matter to me
as it did back
when we were tangled up

Our love felt like a knot
I've only tried to cut you out

Before you call me out

I'm hurting too
I wish I could go and see you
for a little while
Just a day

I carry the shame
I'm the one to blame

I'm guilty

I'm no saint

I carry this infinite darkness inside
I'll let it spill
just cut my head off
let me think silently

I questioned myself
why is there no light

must you go blind
hold my hand
I'll guide you

open doors
water faucets

we both know
what's it like to lose

this is life
pain
suffering
with one smile to love

we both know what it's like to lose

don't lose me
I don't want to lose you

come
   look outside
the winter sun

this is life
lost forever
waiting for someone to find you

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

this was going to be a poem of epic proportions.
but not even poetry stands up to you and i anymore.
and every year it gets harder to explain this to you.
because i love you for everything you are, have been,
will be, cannot be, refuse to be, and try to be.

and that's really all there is to it.

we're still tragic and all wrong and we feel it, sometimes.
but i hope that no matter where you go next year,
i am with you somehow, even if you just remember me.
because whatever we are is not meant to die, fizzle, or explode.
it is meant to reassure and to be patient and to hold hands.

and that's really all there is to it.

there will always be somewhere that you can call collect.
i solemnly swear to accept any and all charges billed to me.
i would follow you until the ends of the earth, but only for us.
not for me or for you or poetry's sake, only if we needed it.
this is my "i'll see you soon," when you go away from me.

i will never be farther than you would like me to be.

The rain desires nothing but begins nonetheless.
One drop falls, alone at first, followed
by another and another, until
the neighborhood windows weep.

Across the street, her husband turns
his palm to the sky, steps into the storm.
His black umbrella blinks awake,
like the hole he creeps through
when his wife is sleeping, when
the window is open and the sidewalk is dry.

It can’t be helped.

It desires nothing,
but the rain, with
a million hands,
ravages everything.