no longer a daydream.I turn my head. Shut my eyes. Walk away. You're no longer my fantasy, no longer in my daydreams. You're a lie. You have too much figure out.And so do I.In this small, small town you're "him". You're everybody's mystery.But not mine. No. Not anymore.No longer will my eyes search for a connection to yours. No longer will my hand tremble when you're so close. My pulse won't quicken when you say my name and my breath won't catch in my throat when someone calls yours.You've given me something though. Made it worthwhile.You've given me perspective.And although you cannot see it, and maybe never will, you've let me into a world in which I know what I want.So for that, thank you.
Morning VerseThe morning makes me recklesswith the smell of coffee curlingthrough my veins in electrictendrils,and the pen betwixt my fingertipsshooting feelers through my brain,and a single dying starburning in the dawn-greenEast.The morning makes me restlesswith the promise of the dayand the breath of open windowsand the smooth relief ofink;so in the morning, like a childcelebrating lifeI turn my words in dances.
SacrificeYou are gone but I remain alone and mourning impotent.I would devour the earthI would drink the seas dryI would burn the sky and boil all human tears to nothingI would put out the starsI would spit on the sun and salt my wounded eyesto touch your hand once more.But I am a servant the lowest a child of dust with no power to touch the sky.So I will touch my heart instead and since you cannot come back to me, I will go to you, my hope touch my heart and still it, and I will come to you.