(2014)
You asked what I knew about you and I thought up a list of twenty things
Autumn sneaks in preceding dormancy Leaves take on new beauty with nothing left in them but a fa… Individually insignificant
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
Hope in another form but no fewer letters and I’ve been hoping for these past eight years so I’ll just keep on
If I was once the tallest mountain your love was the wind that eroded me to nothing
I awoke in the dark next to you and more alone than ever I was amazed to hear your heart beating from
Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin
I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
I’ll keep searching for the meaning of life and I hope I find it as crumpled paper nearish a trash can
I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back
I say hello and you say nothing You may hear me you may even think of a response
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
The hands of this watch haven’t moved since the last time you did and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear the ticking
Forever seems like so long until I think of all the times spent waiting
I hope this is postmarked before my death certificate is dat… but you’ll know why if it is or if it isn’t If you get this in time
