I ( Read more... )

i never wrote a love poem for you ( Read more... )

there is a certain way that
we watch ourselves in the mirror,
when the light in your room is silver
from the streetlight that's been replaced.
i like to glance at our shoulders when
i roll onto my back, and
your body still shakes
when i mention that night.

i spent so much time missing you
i lost the actual you in there, somewhere;
and as i was busy bridging the distance,
you were busy tunneling to your escape.

I miss all the old songs ( Read more... )

tonight i am interested only
in learning the angles of
your flesh to your bone;
you are more beautiful
than you could ever know.

the smell of the airplane over the atlantic ( Read more... )

the most stillness is
the hour before you wake up.
this is when your body becomes
rigid and you clear your
output streams.

some drum machine breathes
softly on the glass, the
quiet spaces between metallic
drumbeats filled with just
steam and future memories.

does it get dark this early ( Read more... )

she is sneaking
photos of me on her
camera phone, feigning
sending a text message to
undisclosed recipient as i,
pensive, over my next move,
pretend not to notice until
she laughs and tells me so.