Archive for December, 2014


Another day, I repeat enough times
to bring me to a brand new year,
as if that means change will occur
with no effort at all on my part.
Another night, I add for good measure.

These feet, either pacing the floor
or frozen by anxiety’s shadow on the wall,
will carry me along by doubtful whisper
as I search for a pillow to make my escape,
however temporary it may be.

Ellipses of sweat form where ideas take root,
these children of paper and ink parents
who encourage them to go out
and meet new people, try new things,
while still new themselves.

Because going through the motions
leaves only enough room for mundanity alone,
and it’s anybody’s guess
if I can keep this up the entire ride.
Yet, that old wheel turns.

Another day, I say to my window.
By now it’s cloaked in condensation.
Another night, it warmly replies,
though I know it’s only humoring me.
Nonetheless, it’s a kind gesture.

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Nothing New

At night when I’m gradually vanishing into sleep,
portraits of you cascade through my mind,
interrupted only by the occasional wondering
about whether you’re thinking of me, too.

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Care for All You Are

You’re gentle and warm.
He’s insensitive and cold.
You’d never cause harm.
He thinks cruelty is bold.

You deserve much better.
You deserve to be loved.
Like a hand-knit sweater,
not a surgical glove.

A bond is what I’m getting at.
That’s something we already have.
He’s the one setting us back.
I swear, we are each other’s half.

I’ll be waiting right here
when he breaks your heart.
I’ll wipe away your tears,
and care for all you are.

And should you choose me,
I won’t take you for granted.
You won’t have to lose me.
My love is set inside granite.

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Gently, My Love

Your love didn’t come rushing in,
like an ocean wave striking the shore.
It was simply a gentle, humid rain,
comforting my heart, enveloping me,
tranquilly, beautifully.

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In Memory of Lark

I tried too hard.
I broke my heart.

I missed the mark.
I lost that lark.

I can’t express
this loneliness.

At least not with a word
that’s never been heard.

A single song
will not last long.

I need to feel more
than tears on the floor.

I’ll find a way
to add color to gray.

It’ll only take time.
It’ll come if I try.

I’ll fix what’s broken.
I’ll keep my mind open.

With God as my witness,
I swear I won’t nix this.

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The 80’s is on its knees,
praying emphatically to God
to forgive it of its synths.

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Beside the glow of lights
emanating from the modestly decorated tree
in the corner of our living room,

I’m writing letters I’ll never send
to people I haven’t thought about in years,
my words alien and reserved,

as if the language we speak today
isn’t the same one we used in childhood
during field trips to the park,

where we’d often spin together
on that tire swing with the rusting chains
in a squirmy, haphazard circle,

and the gap between then and now
would be a cruel and hapless jump to make,
so I remain in this spot, legs folded,

composing deep into the night,
stopping only as the cold morning sun
signals the arrival of Christmas.

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She, a butterfly still at rest upon her cloud,
I, a man in love, fallen to the dirt,
the way a follower worships their god of choice,
tirelessly laboring to meet her eyes,
and perhaps, if I’m so fortunate, make her smile.

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Red Dress

Her dress was red
the night she left me blue.
I, green with envy,
my shame a yellow bruise.

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I fell so fast.
I fell so hard.
Forgot the past.
Forgot the scar.

The sun, it shines
this winter day.
Perhaps not outside,
but in my brain.

It’s all about the outlook,
and now I understand.
But with tea and a book,
it’s an easier demand.

So I’ll curl up and read
while hearts become broken.
Pain is where love leads,
so I won’t leave myself open.

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