there’s a heart
grown heavy
laying in bed
trying to wake
up

453 times he’s said
to himself
“wake up”
but it’s only putting
him back to sleep,
a hypnosis
untended
or fate that cannot
be escaped?

wake up he says for
the 454th time
but his eyes stay shut
and he can hear birds
chirping their bird songs
outside of his
window

he can feel the weight
of his existence:
each social expectation,
each biological demand,
just another pound on
his shoulders
but
he’s been down
on the ground for a while
now

the heavy heart
prays to be
emptied

wake up, he says,
and counts 455
wake up, he says,
and counts 456
wake up he says
and counts 457
wake up, he says,
and counts 458
wake up, he says,
and goes back to
sleep

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,

but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

it is easy to kiss a boys lips as his hand slides up your leg
to play along letting the infatuation of the moment
control you like a puppet tied to strings
because ******* means nothing, its like breathing
or sleeping
it comes naturally
that is the easy part
human connection, being with someone
despite how many hours grace the day
or how many miles cut between
emotional connection means they are there
no matter what
not just their unmentionables
indulged in your body
the hard part is holding hands
or sipping coffee, puffing a cigarette
in 5 degree weather, just to be together
relationships, romantic or not
require more than just physical elements
and you ask me why i am already okay
it's like you expect me to miss you
my respect for you has begun to decay
but can we still *****?

there are times like these where the paper stares back
as blank as I stare at it
there are times when my mind stops running and the fog clears out - the pain
has diminished, melted away in the cracks of recent lovers
covering them in a monochromatic film
it dulls the pain

the hum of the vent is whispering sweet nothings in my ear and
i've never noticed how grounding the table is under my elbows
the air tastes of musty filing cabinets but that's okay
because 1,000 years ago it was just a barren field
under my feet

my nose is running slightly and
there's a heaviness in my eyes that I can't explain
but I never knew being happy would mean wrapping up
the memories and burying them
under the desire to be loved

I think I'd rather be sad and introspective than happy and numb
it may be lonesome, but at least I am able to
differentiate between who really cares
and who's only here to say they've climbed the tallest mountain

so we undressed
and I didn't finish
and you felt self-conscious
and refused to read to me
like you did the night before
so I didn't sleep
but you did
and your brow was a shelf
and I wiped it off
like I did the night before
so the morning would feel clean
yet I missed a spot
and you said no one loved like me
and that wasn't a good thing
like a songbird that was more showboat
so I'm sorry lukewarm newspapers
and two wine glasses
and too empty
and you bit my lower lip until blood was drawn
like a misery, like a static radio song
so I bit your lower lip until blood was drawn
but that wasn't an anchor
but that wasn't a tether
but that wasn't criminal
like the soap operas and the 51st shade of grey
so we undressed
and turned on the history channel
and it didn't go anywhere
and you said history was for the historians
like ******* was for lovers
so we dressed
and you were a child in my clothes
and I talked down to you
and you took one last drink of my cologne
like a closing hymn collapsing on a dime

*******.
Seriously,
I'd love to.

I mean, I thought things had changed
I thought we were friends
But the minute I saw you twirling your hair,
Fixing what I never thought was broken
****.

I don't even want lust,
I want you.

You

Always

I know things have changed in your eyes
Breaking up,
Without a relationship
We are not together,
We never were.

Can you stay here forever?
I don't want to let go of
Your
Picture
Your
Face

"I sound like a teenager."
She said reading her own
Work
That goes both ways now,
Both ways