(2014)
I don’t remember any anesthesia after talking with you but I woke up stitched back
I grew up in a house built in 1937 long before codes and regulations and sometimes
There seems to be a drought in my… but who knows if it is the cause or the result of the war raging within me
I’ve kept my eyes closed most of these past eighteen years because I find it just as dark
I spend my nights wishing on every star in the sky that you are alive and well
I have whispered your name into the air so many times it has become the breeze that blows
You asked what I knew about you and I thought up a list of twenty things
The pen must be mightier than the sword For there is nothing that will spill your guts faster than a bit of ink that says
If nature were so flattered by poems written with itself in mind as people are we would be moving mountains
It must be a wednesday or a friday or any day at all for I am painfully aware of the wo… that consumes me
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
Everyday I lived out a song written just for you But you could
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
I see poems that need to be written scrawled in the shape of your smile and the lines of your face