(2014)
I see words screaming for attention etched in the lines of your face Let me look closer
I don’t remember any anesthesia after talking with you but I woke up stitched back
I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all
There is poetry in nature better left to be spoken wordlessly by the breeze
There is a girl and I love her and I have loved her since the beg… Or so it seems to me as I only became conscious
Loving you was never sweet like the taste of vanilla the way I thought it was supposed to be It was more like
I see poems that need to be written scrawled in the shape of your smile and the lines of your face
I wish you had told me that on the good days kissing you would make me think that I knew what happiness was and on the bad days
I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
There is something to be said of a true friend One who will pull the knife from your back One who will stitch the wounds
You asked what I knew about you and I thought up a list of twenty things
I grew up in a house built in 1937 long before codes and regulations and sometimes
I know that you were there in my dreams and in my arms Every dream we
Just when I get back on my feet you pass on by and I lose my footing Again
