the red glow of her cigarette.
the fingers of her left hand
yellow  with nicotine
clutching dying flowers

"buy a rose for your lover," she says,
"buy one for your wife. buy 2."

"the flowers are wilted."

"maybe it's your eyes that are wilted.

she had black hair
black as the night
the violent night
and gray eyes
the shade of ***** ice

"you must love
someone,
some of the time, no?
put a rose on
your father s grave, then."

"love is like lost pennies
falling from a broken jar."

she smooths her hair with one pale,
long, fingered hand, "you re crazy."

"my mom says so."

i was born to
have adventure

I followed her up the steps.

i was born to chase the night
through the forest
of dead roses.

I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille

when I told my therapist that I felt lonely,
she said in response that
she didn’t want to belittle my experience
and I only half-heartedly believed her
when she told me that we all feel lonely,

but darlin’ I know you’re so lonely.

a flood of emotions
but i will only catch the hopeful
another day, another way
i can look for the better version
of myself
yes, there is hurt
but one day at a time
a few good words on my mirror
and we will see
what happens

Hello there
familiar stranger...

Between the waking hours
and persistent unsleep,

you’re still
as much as the chaos
in my head then
as you are now.

There are approximately 470,000 words in the English language

4 syllables in “Hey, How are you?”

9 letters in “Beautiful”

3 words in “I love you”

And still

I can’t find a single thing to say

When your smile accidentally makes my day.