In her hair were
lilacs and lilies

how she felt, indescribable
at least as my hand imagined
an apartment held a sad fragrance
like nicotine and a cold, wet dog

Just in case
you are dense
-I don't think

I just travel, cutting off measurable descents
and action grovels and spits out piths
it dances in a grimy booth

the door was smooth and shiny
it was covered with fingerprints
from little boys in other countries

I said "ma'am, you aught to not invite
those who wish to distance everything
to pull apart each atom, leaving a space
for arson'd counties, and tarnished valleys"
beautiful vacuousness, so glazed & reflective

doesn't take much to drive me crazy
but not much is going on
in my life

I remember tasting something like spring
Or so it led me to drool and believe
It was more of just a memory, I suppose

They say that memories are a reflection of insecurities

I say, remember

At a time, there was euphoria, and in my ever present curiosity, I dove into this enigma, only to find that the depths of the ocean are unimaginable

Unfathomable

I pondered here, for many years, often in retrospect, but never once in the now

For the future was bleak, but the past was pleasure

I taught myself how to swim, in the flow
But I swam in reverse

I remember spring like it was yesterday
Standing bold, silhouetted by the winter

I remember the smile like my own, and the touch like warm water
The brush like a soft orange

And in these memories I am consumed

But here, I am content to dissolve

now, to them
it didn't matter
if the sun was rising
or setting
they just needed to
see the fire
in each other's eyes

I can't get over you*
      But I hate you.
  You hardly come around.
I used to date you when your time frame was more abrupt
    You'd show up with a kiss and a hug
  Give me the gift of love
With no glove on, just pure touch
      Pushing your button and gripping you tight
   We used to get by
You'd always take me back
  For the very last time
Stuck between whether it's wrong or its right
     Being this naked
We'd always fight and when it was amazing, even they loved it.
       From cover to cover, our bed was made up and it read like this:
      "Here lies Poetry and her Poet, God rest their souls on crumpled paper"*
      If we make it
And our love is a mainstream instrumental, will you come back and talk to me or will you choke me on your lies,
All your promises meeting their demise in a pair of telling deceitful eyes that I couldn't draw
    The paper might rip in these hands made of straw
      But the years will drag on with me gripping two halves beyond repair trying to grasp the reality of your infidelity

He thought she would stay
but she was smoke
dancing from his cigarette
entangling herself in his lungs
he could not hold her
she left swiftly and softly
flitting away through his exhale