Lost Words

"There's still a little bit of your taste in my mouth,
There's still a little bit of you laced with my doubt,
It's still a little hard to say what's going on."

From before the gravel
ground too deep
From before a year
crunched beneath my feet
and sighed,
I can't remember what you said.
Now it's gone,
soaked with another man's
words pretending to be mine
and thrown out with the newspaper.

lost and alone

Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve this.
I never wanted to be alone.
And you,
you wanted this.
But now you throw her at me like rotten fruit
and blind me with your subtle arm.

And I question if it was really this you were sick of,
and not just me.

"Real loneliness is not necessarily limited to when you are alone."

I just want to be in love again.
A beautiful love, soft kiss on my shoulder love,
midnight back rub, midnight make love.

It's not that things with him were bad,
they just weren't enough.

I always think I'm okay.
Strong facade, strong face,
deep seeded emotion pushed away and away.

Further sunk, a stone at the pit,
another girl another day.

I lied.
I'm not happy, I'm alone.
Lie until you believe, they say.



"If she loves you, if she really loves you, you’ll know it. If you can wake up to her staring at you and it’s not even mildly creepy, if you catch her smelling the shoulder of the hooded sweatshirt you lent her for an autumn walk at the beach, and not for B.O., if she makes you a pancake in the shape of a shark, if she calls you drunkenly at four in the morning “to talk,” if she laughs at your jokes when they’re funny and makes fun of you when they’re not, if she keeps her fridge stocked with Guinness tallboys for when you come over, if she tells you how she wishes she were closer to her sister and that her dad makes her sad: She loves you, of course she loves you."


"may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
its always ourselves we find in the sea"

e.e.cummings

Boston fog spray paints grey,
cobblestones, bricked walk,
arms linked,
Bare elbows in the black, black night.
Speak softly, slowly.
Speak through liquored breaths and lie.
Quiet, quiet hands cupped light,
bottom lipped reflection,
skeletal, lithe.

"The bottom line is that we never fall for the people we're supposed to." - Jodi Picoult

It wasn't whiskey, but rum,
through the sheets
and your breath
and my legs and yours.
Words spoken through skin.
Butterfly bruises
on inner thighs,
hip bones
shoulders
hands and sides.