i can still remember

i can still remember his hands.
the way his palms felt against mine.
fingertips floating against my arm.
a knuckle sliding across my face.
the way they slammed the stearing wheel
when i made him so mad that all he could do
was hit and scream and hit and scream.

i can still remember his voice
and the way his lips moved when he spoke.
singing me to sleep through my sickness and fear.
"i love you. sweet dreams, babe" before sleep.
the way the anger rang in my ears
when he found out all the truths i'd hidden
and he cried and yelled and cried and yelled.

i can still remember his eyes
and the way he looked at me
and loved me through them
and the pain they held
when i was found out.

i can still remember laughing
and apologizing and sneaking away.
lies, a wrinkled coat, words on a page.
copper roses and tears.
falling apart and just being
too stupid to grow up.

i can still remember my realization
of him being for me and myself being his
and then his voice on the phone
"i found someone."

and years later when those
same familiar lips were
a breath away from mine
and i did. not. kiss. them.
because i knew it was a test
and i thought i would have passed.
i did, but it was not the same.

i would have kissed him if i had known
that it would have been my last chance.










it's funny that
i really only
ever liked girls
after that.

dear words,

i want to be poetic.
i feel like i was once
before living in the dark.

words, like a loyal pet,
can they be ignored for a time
but still hold their love true to you
when you let them in from the cold
and they curl up and settle on your lap?

i seem to remember
the words nipping,
biting at my ankles
begging to come out.

throw the ball
and the words will follow,
fly across the lawn
and back to you
over and over again
through summers and pages
and freezing cold walks
in the snow.

oh, but words, too, can be cruel.
no one ever said they had to
understand when you spend days
with your girlfriend's new camera.
you come home and they can
smell it on your fingertips
and they walk away with their
meaning between their legs.
the jealousy makes them hate you
and you let them out one day
and they never come back.

maybe if i wear my apology like a noose,
a collar of my own, for all to see.
maybe if i walk the same streets.
maybe if i throw the ball,
they'll come back to me.

i thought i was poetic once.

dear words,
this is my apology.
i miss you.
love,
t

5-7-5

three years of my life
just holding on to nothing
and the end starts now.




'you know, i only shake whenever you stand right over me like a hungry buzzard above my head. are you hoping i'm really dead? well, better shut your mouth, hold your belly tight. i'm not serving you anymore.' -fisher