You say
the past is the past
but why does it
have to be?
Can’t the past
become the present
if you let it
or if you want it to?
What’s stopping us
from loving those
we once did?
I think it’s because
we sometimes scare ourselves
into believing we were wrong,
that he didn’t love me,
that it wasn’t that
once in a lifetime
kind of love.
Now I’m sounding cliché,
but isn’t that
what real love is?
A bunch of beautiful clichés
that turned out to be true?

Love’s Language

Taken in
by your arduous words
held suspended
over sorrow
and quiet disillusionment,
I sit in reverence,
in awe of your injustice
to your own heart.
Blood leaks
from your veins
in torrential rivers of regrets
held fast to imaginary lines
of wrong and right,
and I wonder
where we got so lost
in between the shuffle
of then and now.
Because I am a mystery
and so are you,
the two of us lost,
trapped in this circle
of bars
and ropes
and chains
telling us to stay
instead of feel.
I pour out
this language of love
on pages that never
meet your eyes
and I wonder
if it’s worth it
to make others feel
what I can never imagine you do.
If it’s worth it
to write my soul onto white,
to fill up the emptiness
with some kind of purpose
instead of just waiting.
I’ve tried to stir you
into action
but my words always fall short
of forever
and you always fall short
of today.


Your eyes
are singing to me
in my sleep.
Dreamy melodies
drift from your gaze
and serenade me
with promises
of nighttime love
that won’t come true
but still,
I listen.
When skies turn grey,
you keep my heart
wrapped up in yours,
soothing my bitter ache
even though your arms
are apparitions in the mist
and I am nothing
but a lost child
adrift in a roiling sea.
Every day
I walk into battle
with nothing
to protect me
but love’s shield.
You are my armor,
my peace,
my war.
You bring me in
from the sheeting rain
that stings my cheeks,
and hold me until
your heart almost breaks,
Here, in the darkness,
you shelter me in
your embrace
made from memories
and patchwork whispers
of promises made
during summer slumbers.
I wonder
what you mean to me,
why I need you
so desperately,
why I cling to pieces
of a broken man
thinking he can fix
my shattered self
when he can’t even fix
his own.
I wonder
what I mean to you
and how you
can forget me so easily
or maybe it’s not forgotten
so much as
everywhere you look
you see echoes of me
swirling around
so that escape is all you seek
since I am lost
and absent from the life
you dreamed we’d have.
We are nothing more
than shadows and sand,
swept away
by time’s wicked wings.


Twitter mash up precedes. :) This one is mostly half Twitter and half new stuff.

Life and Paper

The air creeps
on whispered promises
and sticks in my lungs
I can feel your hands
and your eyes hungry
to touch me
to meet me
with the parts of you
that forgot the parts of me
it’s clinging to my heart
and jacketing me
in coats of sand
and sea water
your hands
and my hands
all mixed up in laughter
and heat
and there you are
in my hair
your fingers
and dark eyes
desiring to love me
in real life
instead of only
on paper
and pieces of voices
spread out across
the ocean of land
between us.


Love is given
every time you’re forgiven.
I’ve given you
endless chances
to remember who we were,
who we could be,
but you always give up on yourself
before you realize
that I will take you
however you are
because I forgive
all the flaws that you despise.
You are the missing parts of me
and the missing
doesn’t get easier.
It never will.
It seems like
I’m only getting used to the ache.
It’s my companion
on dark nights
filled with sheeting rain
that pummels the roof
in defiance of our loss.
I hold the missing
between my fingers
and watch it puddle
around my heart
just as the rain
leaks through my roof
and drowns everything I love.
I search the night
for your storm cloud eyes
and the hurricanes
writhing in your veins.
But you are as lost as I am
in this ocean of love
and loss
and unrequited forgiveness.


Jack Daniels
blindsides you
into alcoholic memories
of who we were
on that long ago island
of white and beauty.
Your fingers fumble
with my weathered words,
reading sentiments
that I meant
and probably still mean
even though I’m angry
and exasperated
and sometimes on the verge
of giving up.
But in the black of reminiscence,
your lips
press against my skin,
and I let the madness
overtake me,
pushing me closer
to our shared darkness.
I know you are too broken,
too shattered,
too scarred,
to trust,
so you shy away,
afraid your love
will break me
or you
or maybe shatter
the entire world
you have built around
while your touch is
all I need
to get lost and found
all at once.


Twitter mash up precedes. :)

Real Life

Dark stars
and sunspots
and refrigerator doors.
Your face in fluffy clouds
and raindrops
and cigarette smoke.
It’s all such a mish-mosh
of shadows and shards
of lives lived
without or within
and I don’t think
we can ever know
someone else.
Just outside cases
of who we think we are.
Car keys
and careers
and moonlit walks
but never ache
and life
and real.
Shut up inside
skin and bones
and we are all
just the children
we used to be
inside wrinkles
and responsibilities
and society.
We dream
inside boxes
shaped like homes
and believe it’s fantasy
gift wrapped in mundane.
Card tables
and Thanksgiving
and text messaged living
and we fold our hands
and smile.
So take my hand
and sprint
for the cherry door
and break the opaque glass
blocking our view of forever.

What Are You So Scared Of?

Sometimes I wonder
if I even know you at all,
if you even know yourself.
How can you
mistrust yourself so much?
I remember
a strong boy
who was turning into
a strong man.
He believed in himself
and wanted to conquer the world,
burn it down
and use the ashes
to rebuild something beautiful.
Now I see timid,
Who are you now?
What made you
lose your faith in yourself?
You, who are
wise and
and so loving,
hide under false armor
instead of standing true
to the perfectly flawed you
who I loved then
and still love now.
I just don’t get it.
Maybe I never will.
You think you are
too damaged,
too broken
too unworthy
of loving me
when all I want to do
is feel your love.


I know
you are out there,
if I am out there,
waiting for you.
You beckon me
with haunting eyes
brimming apprehension,
calling to me,
a beacon
in a storm,
asking me to hold on.
It’s not over yet.
I filed a flight plan
to carry me to your shores,
a one way ticket,
to a place I’ve never lived
but will always call home.
I used to think
I could reach you
by land,
but then I realized
I must travel
across seven oceans
and countless seas
to feel you once again.
The edge of night waits
with nothing to stop us
from believing we can fly,
that the world
has no boundaries
or corners to stop us.
you are waiting.
your music
plays aching melodies
that haunt your present
with our past.
I am yours.


Twitter mash up precedes. :)


I miss you.
I am deserted
and dying
and you leave me
with nothing
but wasted shards
of empty words.
In the pitch black
of night
when no one hears
my muffled cries,
I bleed for you.
In frozen melodies
of ancient songs,
I sing for you
when no one will listen.
What will I be
without this ache?
Who am I now
but a fortress of lies
and unpacked baggage
that always rides passenger
and screams out wrong directions.
I wake up thinking
today will be the day.
Every day.
I think it’s here
and your silence echoes
through the empty walls
of my head
and I go to sleep
thinking tomorrow
will be the day
when I stop being afraid,
when I stop hiding,
when you will finally speak,
but it’s not today
or tomorrow
and I’m still trapped
like a mouse on a wheel,
endlessly chasing
invisible realties.