wound

your raw
naked need

an open wound

I will fill
with salt

let go

I won’t fight for feelings
you won’t give freely

or this love you try
to stop feeling

it’s time now
to finally

let go

pretty picture

I paint your indifference
in many vibrant hues

and I tell myself I surely mean 
more than nothing to you

it would be a pretty picture
if only it were true

moon III

all we share now is the moon;
mine has your name on it –
so does yours

drinking sunshine, eating stars

with you I’ve been
stripped down and
turned inside out

made anew and raw,
drinking sunshine
eating stars

come play
with me
again

kiss VII

suddenly you kissed me
and the world stopped

the world stopped
spinning

the world stopped
spinning me
around

'my darling'

you can’t call me ‘my darling’
I am not yours; not
anymore

words with lovers II

now you give me words
I once wanted to hear
when I once wanted you

you slowly work them
into everything when I
no longer want anything

words with lovers I

you are a language I am learning slowly tongue stumbling with unfamiliarity tumbling into uncertainty speechless, twisting at the very sight of you

iffy

I don’t know
what I hate more:
when you come
or when you go

impossible

tell me again
how they took you away -
no one told me it was possible.

have another drink

there is love
you can drown
with drink
and then
there's love
which refuses
to sink

bittersweet

I thought I didn’t
care anymore

until I caught myself
counting the number of days
since I stopped caring

memories I

strange, the things that
still stay in the mind:
a few Spanish words -
not even a line -
and you drawing
hearts in the
sand

one of these days

one of these days
I will stop talking
about you –

I will stop talking
to others about you
and I will start talking
to you:

not just in my head
not just in words
typed out in a hurry
but out loud –

I will talk to you
all the time and
my words will
form a rope

it will reach out and
bind us together
again.

peace, please

I thought we
called a truce

now I know
we only ended
a battle, started
a cold war instead

peace, please

fact

you come and go
I rise and fall

see you on the other side

when your hellos
began dictating
my happiness

I knew it was
time to say
goodbye

lights out

some people turn out
some lights forever
when they go

all for grand gestures,
you turned off
the mains

16

you stand
behind a wall
of silence

I sit here
and bleed
words

I don't know
which one of us
is wiser

but I know
which one of us
still loves

remembrance

there are anniversaries
that creep up too softly,
taking away everything:

in remembrance,
in remembering;

I remember.
do you?

Ides of March

getting over you is scheduled

for once in every two months –

pace yourself

in tripping me over:

I’ve gotten over you

in January just past;

mess me up again

on the Ides of March.

smile IV

is it not enough that I know  
the shape of  your smile 
against my skin?

must I know   
everything?

moon II

sometimes in the afternoons
I see the moon
hanging from invisible threads
in the sky
 
it has your name carved on it
always
 
but there is no moon, and there
is no you
the eyes sometimes see what the
heart wants

un-tender tableau

drawing out

the threads

of tenderness

we tear into this

hastily-woven

tapestry of us

turn magic

into everyday

abjectness

weave in

aloofness

worldliness

awkwardness

un-tender

thoughtlessness

breakfast II

baby, if this were
breakfast time,
I'd order 
you.

kiss VI

maybe I should apologise
for that time I kissed you
so enthusiastically
I thought we’d fall over;
positively adorable, really
if only I meant it –
we could have made
something of us

kiss V

did you think I

cared, really? –

that time I held you

and kissed you and

kissed you again...

did you really
think I cared?

how could you?

I barely saw you

for you.

February

this month brought me you,

heart-eater

after the chill of December,

January newness

conjured up out of thin air,

too suddenly

you were there – a whirlwind,

breath-stealer

you brought poetry and laughter,

in the month of love

touch-points of return

again you

have returned –

a bruised leaf,

not quite a flower

but just as beautiful

in certain lights –

at these touch-points

of return, I don’t know

what you want from me

– comfort, kindness,

a soft-word-caress;

you seek safety, solace –

but there are times

when even I

have nothing to give