We’re all in passing cars like Venus to Mars.
At least that’s what they told me when I was a kid.
I stumbled upon her, she washed my feet,
from the basin with the dirt submerged underneath,
the filth of four decades and no release.
Water from downpours, now silent in relief.
Three words in union, a sentiment with attached strings,
held lofty with dowel rods, pivoting angel wings. We’re just strangers now.
When the last hug has been passed around.
Strangers in the crowd.
I can be a transient lover to you.
Stability, security, override what you feel.
Eventually my act gets tired.
Songs embellished in your name,
I don’t know what’s real. Forgiveness is.
I owe myself a few more mulligans.
Nothing rhymes with mulligan.
I don’t blame you for wanting out.
Happiness is a dollar sign, no time
for silly thoughts, these words of mine. McCartney was right all along.
No amount of prose can replace structure,
fidelity, coarse in the hourglass.
Rubbing you, those last sloppy moments in bed.
Sand stuck in your bathing suit.
“Fuck me” still hanging in the air over my head. It felt so dirty to be with you.
Transient love spent.
My well-meaning “goodbye” sent.
Seems we’re bred to believe,
love is all we need. They lied to me.
Pillaging the lovelorn,
stretched at the seams.
What love means to me.
This is a lonely space,
but it doesn’t have to be.
Fiction, poems and pleasantries. Love is all we need.
I almost got used to missing you.
Almost never gets it done, the trade-off is love:
the dig your heels in the earth kind, revolting against the sky-
your body taken miles from here,
but never the mind.
How my heart aches without you, nothing you get used to,
and I’m glad it’s temporary.
This is like a film splotched up on screen,
played out like so much Hollywood sheen.
Watching Before Sunset alone, and the reminders and cues,
our first silent pauses and what followed afterwards.
The subtle, not stark, revealing, black gives way to blue.
You don’t easily forge ground that holds no foothold on uncharted lands,
long trails that remain hush no matter how many people clutter backroads from backhand.
It was always you and me, and that’s how it will be.
Your goodbye, only temporary.
What would you know about blinking at an oncoming train,
battering ram-style and grace,
she left this place, your mind blown, face intact.
I heard the blitz, oncoming lights,
tracking her thighs the whole way in,
until my skin burned and fringe,
escaping her vice grip, under the pressure of skin sheathed in leather and disguise, bruises to hide and a man she couldn’t deal into a pool of sharks, fins and tails- the last thing you saw are the whites of their eyes.
Jaws gnashing your torso right above the waist.
This isn’t what she thought you’d be and you became that same thing you hate, she hated, breathing through a feeding tube that was handed to you.
Indigestible blocks of dead air, looser strands of hair,
on the kitchen floor- clinging between nails
and toes that scurry, the fridge for milk, cover Lucky Charms… shovel it in as fast as you can.
The only luck you’ll find in these late hours. Red 40 and a bitter taste she left that you can never cover up.