dear *******,
you're still fresh-cut flowers in my mind,
every addiction that i wound'nt leave behind.
you're still that razor-sharp wound
that won't heal quite right.
you're the face in other faces
i've been trying not to see.
lucky for me, you're nothing
but a distant memory.

in love with it
even if it will never
be as good as now
ever again.
that's what stops me.

knowing now will never happen twice.
the decline is what kills me....
falling in love is ****** enough,
falling out of love
is a ******-suicide.

after each breakthrough,
a breakdown. it's not something
i'm proud of.

don't tell me **** about
being okay.
that's not what i'm here for.
complacement is no more satisfying
than the empty -ness
and less interesting that loneliness;
thought it might be cheaper.

i can't expose these nerves in person.
even alcohol isn't enough to allow
myself to touch,
barely enough to talk.
i could blame it on not finding the
right person (and that probably is the
actual reason). but i am far more
likely to blame myself, or my surround-
ings. or

i would love to say
"this has to stop" but it doesn't have to.
and i believe it drains me of the drive,
and steals the better part of my breath
away.
i'm ready to end a paragraph, ending a
chapter. to enter a new home to make me
a bit more clear-headed, if not necessarily
more.


i get into a daze, almost convincing
me that i'm in love. but with who?
no face touches my memory, it's just
an anxious, empty wish. that there could b
e someone worth wanting.

unrequited love is my best relationship,

one-sided lie to myself, easy enough
to swallow whole. hope.

dear _,
                         i can't imagine.
no way to believe i
  could sweep you off your
                                                       feet.
you don't want me.
but i think i have to
ask anyway. try.

i hardly know you. and
i'm scared to try anymore.
                    i have
                    a wine-stained
                    mattress headache
                                            hell.
ways to look at this place
           that would make you
           ache and shake and hurt....
it's hard to want to
share or shed that.

i ask for the chance to lose.

                                              give me
          cold and shivering; i'll
               give you what's left.

deep down, they
remember.
bitterness, happiness,
they choose to be
quiet. i usually do
the same.

i can't say much has
changed. i'm no better,
no more, no catch.
i spew or sparkle;
look twice, you'll change
your point of view.

i starve on purpose,
hold back, hide, drink to
death, back.
hold back, you can't starve
me further, i can ****
myself.
love. now there's a ******
up guy.
me, i'm nothing like him.
never illogical, never excited,
never
mind.

nights i'm better.
night i can want you.
the days are months
blinding.
filling me with
aggravation.
afternoons are drunk
alone and angry.
night is alone too,
but wants you,
wants to write
'love' upon your
skin, kiss upon
the inches.

good morning, the
night dies fast.