(2013)
I see poems that need to be written scrawled in the shape of your smile and the lines of your face
I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back
Hope in another form but no fewer letters and I’ve been hoping for these past eight years so I’ll just keep on
I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all
I see no joyous rebirth in spring for autumn will bring another death I see no joyous rebirth
I get my silence in five minute doses before the plane overhead brings me back to earth
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’ve always been at the very least a little caught up on everything about you This idea of you
My heart was paper now folded six times over to make it harder to tear I only hope that
I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
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
I grew up in a house built in 1937 long before codes and regulations and sometimes
So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything
I was like a rain cloud over a small garden and dammit if you weren’t that garden so full of flowers that I fell in love
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