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the right person
at the wrong time
to cause a chain reaction

synapse flare
breathing change
hands hiding
grow closer

endless joyful days
with everything in the way
everything
on the line

the right person
at the wrong time
agony on the horizon

a fire left untended
a forest with unquenchable thirst
a single spark

the wrong thing to say
the last words we spoke

i don't want to lose you as a friend
a fire dies
cannot undo

the right person
at the wrong time
indelible memories

even if i'd
met you a decade before
i was always
ten steps behind
...
I write this poem
Because I have a question
A question I have been wanting to ask you
From the day that I met you

We talked and talked
Shared songs
Spoke about jobs
Read poems
Talked about school

We spoke with each other
Through messages
So I never got to know your voice
Your way of talking

You might see where I am going
So I'll ask it directly
Will you meet me
Over a cup of coffee?
If misery loves company
Then Hell adores it.
Still I search for the best
im done with crying
im done with hurting
im done with trying
im done with fighting
im done
im not going to end it but im done with trying to make others happy that dont care nor try thats what im done with
I want to see your eyes
in my smile always
but you make me draw
your happiness
with my tears!

Sweetie, I dream of you
every day and night
but I have no right
to love you yet;
Like I'm sunk in fears!

Do you remember me?
I still think of you
and my soul flies
to you with love
through the endless airs.

Could you answer me,
I request you, please!
Will you ever back
to my paradise?
Or you don't care?
Tomorrow comes.
Don't wait for it, its coming.
Not promised, but your always gifted.
That’s His love,
better yet His grace!
keep hope
Tomorrow comes!
Thank you.
He spoke sweet nothings
And I listened;
sweet nothings mean everything sometimes
Even though it’s new
the wires of your cage door
still rattle.
Cold inside, you demand
a constant 71 degrees.
Pop and techno
hit me in the face
like that puff of air
at the eye doctor:
                  jarring
distracting
                     slightly painful.

Peculiar keepsakes on display;
like that odd family photo
ridiculously large
lunging its welcome
from the foyer wall.
Your plump daughters wearing ringlets
and uncertain smiles
hang between your
arrogant head.
                                         You.
              Everywhere.
A shrine.

We sit outside with mixed drinks
you talk about your neighbor
the sushi king and how
this neighborhood
means you’ve irrevocably arrived.
Meanwhile, I am bored.
                Terribly

                            terribly
bored.  

You keep talking,
although I was not
finished with that
                          sentence
                  yet.

I am watching your words
drop like dead leaves
you point at them with one hand
and cover my mouth
with the other
But getting drunk,
laid, and rich
are not my super powers.
And I can’t dumb
my vocabulary
down
                        any lower.  
              

I turn to look
at the front door behind us
and nearly choke on the
claustrophobia
in my throat.
It’d be a really great offer
               if I didn’t have a soul.
Water from your lawn
runs down
the cul-de-sac
lined with desolate
         cages.
I escape to the driveway
where my gas gauge
is empty
but my wings?
My wings
              are fully extended.
(revised from an earlier version)
Our temporal lobes have neurons whose sole purpose
Is to recognize faces
You see, humans are meant to be connected
Our bodies should vibrate
From the sounds of emotional resonance
We are meant to be seen,
Really seen, delving deeply into streams of running water
Where our vulnerability makes love with our experience
And this need is so great, that day after day, year after year,
We open our mouths with hope
That our words can share a meaning with someone
But mostly, we are left colliding
Or surviving near misses
Driving through relationship guardrails
Over the edge into desperation  
We are left holed up in separate hospital beds  
Isolated by IV drips of disappointment
Until we tell ourselves that true happiness is a myth
And the word “soulmate” was intended for everyone else
This used to be me
And it used to be you

When I awoke this morning
Remnants of our laughter were singing on your pillow  
There are 86 lashes on your right, upper eye lid
I can almost see them listening to me
Conduits for comprehension
As I speak,
You turn your ear so it can graze my lips
I whisper while I stare at your profile
Blinking, gentle smile lines
And my heart lunges toward yours like a magnet
I have crawled inside your pupils
To be covered with wet, black paint shining
From your spirit outward
Opposite of indifferent
Our faces so close that I can taste you breathing
This strange sensation is the absence of fear
I. See. You.
I have always known you
I can pull the IV out of my arm
Because what keeps me alive,
Is that you know me too
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