Ive given up
on forgetting you.
I go to bed
(and think of you).
I get up and go
about my day
(and think of you),
your memory as
constant and involuntary
as breathing.
But I have learned
how to go on.
I go to bed
and get up
and breathe.
she never understood
his restless heart,
only that
she loved him
(had she known
when he left
to leave the doors
unlocked
he would have
always
returned)
I remember
the warmth of
your coffee-stained
breath with
a dab of cream and
a half-spoon of sugar.
I still hear your laughter
at my crinkled nose
when we painted
these close walls with
our dreams and
Sherwin Williams.
I loved the smell
of you on days
like these, scented like
burning leaves
and October winds.
I hope heaven
smells like you,
for since youve gone
where I cannot
follow,
its all the hope
I have left.
its quiet today
I sit in a shadowed room
wrapped in a blanket that
smells like you
Leonard Cohen
lies neglected in my lap
as I watch the misting rain
slide past my uncurtained
window
in the dimness of a
gray afternoon, I wonder
what you do when
I creep unwanted
into your thoughts
do you busy yourself
with mindless chores?
turn up the television
to drown out my
whispers?
do you bury yourself
in the warm flesh of
another and try to
erase me?
or do you sit and
listen to the drifting rain
and read old poets
whose hearts burst
with wanting?
their need bleeding
out onto cold
empty pages?
volumes of screams
tuc
I want to disappear
to fade into the setting sun
like weak sunshine
death hovers
like a lovers lips
just out of reach
but I cannot go
two there are
who need me yet
so I will abide in
this shanty town
a few days more
as the world
goes to sleep
around me
my body sings
with lust
a surging demand
begging you
to remind me
that I'm alive
and life is good
but you're not here
and my singing flesh
goes again
unheard