Indelible memories,
Thick as thieves,
Overtake me.
I will never change.
I am a passive aggressor,
Striking blows
My victim knows
Nothing of.
I will not make him whimper or weep.
Only an explosion and promises I choose not to keep
Will destroy him.
But there will be no lasting pain.
I am a killer.
I am always the same.



My best friend died last night. I never knew him at all.

He shared his life with me, so I’ll be drinking tall.

And others went before, we only get to follow.

It’s just the way we live.  We must die from the sorrow.

The taste of death is cold

and I have grown old.

Everything goes away.  Only true love remains.

It gives a little sting, and leaves the greatest stains.

He gave me truth and patience, he gave me all that I need:

Hope, love, time and comfort.  The rest is chicken feed.

The walls are closing in.  This world is crashing down.

He couldn’t stand to watch it, chose not to be around.

Everything went away.  And only this love remains.

There is a painful scar, and a new favorite stain.


I learned to love at seventeen,

and one month later to be mean.

I learned to hate very young,

and sooner yet to hold my tongue.

I learned good kisses at twenty-two,

and what agony we put us through.

I learned that time can heal our scars;

that no one can fake a love like ours.

I learned patience.   I learned pain.

I learned things are equal, but with different names.

I learned its easy to betray,

but so, so hard to walk away.

I learned that some tears you cannot dry

No matter how we try and try.

you and i

If I were more pretty

or you were more inclined,

we’d pack up all the things we love

and leave the rest behind.

But I am not that pretty

and you are so unkind.

We’ll leave it all where it lies

and pretend that we don’t mind.

If you weren’t a traitor

or I not so easily broken,

we could at least be friends once more

forgetting hurtful words were spoken.

But you could not be loyal

and I can not be strong,

and so we’ll go out separate ways

as though we’d planned it all along.


There is someone I miss every day.

I carry him around my neck like a stone.

He is weighing me down

and life is heavy enough as it is.

I have a hard time finding the balance between

honoring his memory and thinking about him obsessively.

The choice has become memory and my life.

He ended his own and I blame myself.

But I am not to blame for it.

At least not fully.

He was a grown man and made his own decisions in everything.

I can not continue to torment myself over the past.

I was the one who said and did those things,

but he was the one who took away the opportunity

for me to try and make it right.

The love I feel will never die, and it is ok to think of other things.

His memory will always be in my heart.

But if he continues to be all I think of,

if I ignore living, my life will be gone too.

It doesn’t stop and wait for me.

happy thoughts

There aren’t enough happy thoughts any more.

Love keeps slipping farther away.

Sometimes I wish I could erase my memories,

it’s must too painful to have to recall old days.

Every thought I ever think, every smile,

every tear I’ve ever cried,

they are all for you, for who you were

and you live in them somewhere deep inside.

But I’m not happy anymore.

With you gone, I don’t want to live like this.

I need to change into someone else

that you would not be ashamed to kiss.

I have let myself go and way too far.

I doubt I could even be recognized.

I want to be who I want to be:

the person you had once so highly prized.

There are things I fear more than others,

troubling things that cause me to worry.

The way I live is growing old,

and it seems, to the end, one must always hurry.

But I don’t want to go through this life alone

where the grey sky is my only comfort.

I want to be finished when they bury my bones,

Satisfied when I’m covered with dirt.

time travel

There is always this sense of urgency.

I must hurry forward to meet the new day.

There is no more slow, dull lapping of the waves on the shore.

No more listening to the drops of water as they fall from sky to ground.

There is only the sound of the wind rushing in my ear, blowing my hair.

Only the sound of my mind racing.

That is real now.

But if I turn backwards, inwards upon myself,

I could be any time I chose.

I could go back to the lull of life before this chaotic mess where he is no more.

The we could be in the porch swing on a hot summer evening,

rocking back and forth, side by side,

sipping some terrible tasting cheap whiskey out of a shared bottle.

All the happiness in the world lives in that moment.

I can go back, if I close my eyes just right,

and feel his skin brush against mine once more, peacefully, consolingly.

But I fear to do it too often.

To return from such a happy time to one such as this

will be my death, I know.

There is no solace for my weary heart.

rose colored

She was trying to let him go.

But he would always be with her:

a mist frozen in time,

covered in a rose colored hue.

And she knew that what she thought of so often,

however unwillingly, was not him.

In life, he had never been this perfect creature that invaded her mind now.

He had been human, with all the flaws and faults that go along with such a name.

And she knew it, but the memories lie.

In them, his face was a little too handsome,

his smile, a little too wide.

The words he spoke once had become garbled somehow,

and she could not always seem to make sense of it.

Perhaps he had not even loved her.

But he had.

In his own self-assured, arrogant, over-compensating way, he had loved her dearly.

After all that had happened and all the time that had passed,

she knows that he had been in love with her all along.

That when he finally had acted on it, it was against his

better judgement, against his doubts, and in spite of his own timid mind.

And she wishes she would have seen the truth much sooner,

long before it was too late.

She sees him sometimes:

in the turn of a head,

in the topography of another man’s hands,

in the way a person might carry themselves when

walking a street they had never walked before.

And it makes her recall thoughts and feelings and moments

she had forgotten for a time.

And in her mind’s eye she sees him again,

washed in a rose colored hue.

And she is happy and sad in that little piece of time.

And she wonders what happens to a person when they die.

And she thinks about her own lack of living.

And she wonders if she will ever be with him again,

at some later time when perhaps someone will think of her face

and it, too, will be bathed in a rose colored hue.

Dark kiss

But he, she knows, will never understand

The way that he left her, her heart in his hands.

And all for no reason, just selfish demise.

He left her bereft for the rest of her life.

And even after all this time, the cloud still floats in her sky

the wind’s in her hair; she doesn’t know why.

No one appreciates it now. It just leaves a tangled mess.

And she keeps inside things she’d rather confess.

No one desires to know what she thinks

and she keeps it all inside, feeling her heart as it sinks.

No one knows how she needs to feel wanted and loved

and that she’s hoped all her life that she could be enough.

No one sees the bruises that cover her bones.

She yells out her cover, no one hears the low moans

Of such a happy girl as this

while she fearfully waits for the long night’s dark kiss.