I've tried so desperately to make sense of this; I must've drafted a hundred letters by now.  And I've wanted to close each one: I love you...
but haven't had the nerve.

He convinced himself over again on the commute home each day
that she wouldn't be there anymore
and still somehow was always crestfallen
upon opening the door.

.

I keep checking for any word from you
click click clicking, hoping like I'm eleven
at my phone's ring I'm living old relationships over again
oh, god-- and it's two-thousand seven!

I know you've been reading me, turning pages silently
I've been still, cover open 
just waiting for our catasrophe

Baby your tongue
really has a way sometimes
of making me feel like little more
than the best sex you've never had.

The truth is that I gravitate
toward the broken, ragamuffins, the sin-soaked.
The truth
is that their tired, watery eyes speak to me like so many mirrors.

All I can hear is your breath in my ear,
your tongue in your mouth-- over these cables
And I want
oh, I want
oh, I want
to lay my jewelry on your bedside table.

I once thought that covering one's face with both one's hands and muttering aloud to oneself, I hate my life was something only done in films. It, apparently, is entirely realistic.

..it's that fluttering of the lid, the reaching at nonchalance that gets me. And the flicker of irises so quick it almost disappears- you'd never say such a thing. But it's you versus your eyes and they're winning.

We're smart enough to know when a thing is done; to recognize an ending and differentiate it from an intermission.
And we
are educated. To the nth degree and the highest power
in the art of tactful avoidance, anyway.

So tip a hat, we're all smiles. Show some skin. Everybody wins, see! Everybody always wins.
©old

Just let the music play
it is a soundtrack.

Because one of us
has got the other
on a string

All right now, come on
Let me see you dance.