poem

A New Complex

Uncategorized

I smell like his t-shirt

I’d give him a good life

We hold it together

with boxes of cheap wine

I drink it like water

He feels like a riptide

He’s shut in the bedroom

It’s never been so quiet

I cry in his bathroom

He knows I’m not alright

But he’s only human

I thought he was sunshine

He looks like a hero

He feels like a landslide

He stopped writing me poems

I hope we’ll be alright

I’m facing his back while

He’s sleeping at midnight

I don’t fit in his spaces

I guess they got too tight

Bereavement Boardwalk

poem

In, two-three-four

If I hadn’t seen the oncoming wave,

Hold, two-three-four

If I had just faced away.. closed my eyes..

Out, two-three-four

maybe the cool breeze against my cheeks,

Hold, two-three-four

or the salty wind stirred up by its breadth,

In, two-three-four

or the shade cast by its great shadow

Hold, two-three-four

would’ve lulled me into the peace I crave

Out, two-three-four

so I could’ve finally rested. But I do see it,

Hold, two-three-four

and see clearly the fool I’d been for hoping

In, two-three-four

I’d find relief in the inevitable.

Hold, two-three-four

If I had just faced away.. closed my eyes..

Out, two-three-four

maybe I could’ve fallen into the rest you

In, two-three-four

can’t get while you’re clenching your jaw

Hold, two-three-four

or bracing for impact til your bones ache.

Storming

Uncategorized

Vibrant green and dull grey

Brings me back to when

I felt more alive

Sometimes I “wake up”

And remember how it felt to really imagine

And really play

I miss who I was back then

But you don’t see time slipping away

It just goes, and one day you’re sitting

On a leather couch

In the office, and

Suddenly remembering that it’s all past..

One day you “wake up”,

And all it took was watching out the window

The vibrant green and dull grey, and

The smell of rain.

Not Guilty

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“Not guilty.”

You pled, and I bled.

The jury wouldn’t look

at the knife

you left stuck.

I begged them to see

the hole in my chest

that you clumsily filled with ash

as if it could replace a beating heart.

But they closed their eyes when you asked them,

“How can you believe that wound is real?

It’s impossible to see

what only she can feel.”

The jury rendered a verdict;

“Insanity”, the foreman said,

pointing at me.

It didn’t matter I wasn’t on trial.

You killed me, but still

they found you “not guilty”

only because

I didn’t

die.