Once a month
A fragile step onto an empty page

Listeners peaking around dark corners
Only in your dreams, my dear

I can still hear your thoughts as my own
It's like your poetry,

And all they say is, 'Darling.'
Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I'll hear a laugh

And the words 'love.' So poisonous.
Passion? Spare me the disgrace

And sometimes, I cannot ( Read more... )

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Maybe, probably, we'll get sick in the fountain in my frontyard. Because my father put it there to take the place of a dying plant, or animal, or we avoid ourselves unless we're fixing our hair. Or our makeup. Pause. Break. Down ( Read more... )

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We walked on glass shards, strewn about the kitchen floor. We couldn't find a broom so we dug in with our teeth. Your auburn hair, that crimson toungue, and all the splinters you could chew. Cutting our lips, we moved around the room, picking up eyelashes, blowing smoke from our eyelids ( Read more... )

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Thank you for calling. I must admit, when I saw that the number was from someone not in the immediate vacinity, someone I could drive a few minutes to talk with in person, I was very happy indeed. It's easy to be funny when I'm on the phone with you. Thank you ( Read more... )