haiku1

Green leaves are burning
Paper coffee cup in hands
Where is the pizza?

written January 9, 2007

haiku2

Familiar sighs
Befriend those long days that fly
By, just like the past

written January 22, 2007

when in rome

falling in love is nothing but a coincidence and i'm hoping there'll be a day where you'll go flying with me. we'll laugh at the lovers we see, hidden in trees, so far below, cause we know, we know theres something more to dreams than goodnight kisses and careful sighs. but the lovers, looking up from so low, also know that when we go and fall in love, we'll loose our wings and join their army of lovely fiends. kicking and biting and kicking some more, you'll recreate the great escape but i'll be left behind when the dreams of careful kisses and goodnight sighs invade my mind. and then i'll have nothing left to say and you'll go cause you only wanted me for the glow of forever.

march 28, 2007

teeth

i grind my teeth to the beat of our love.

static

sorry baby but there's static on the lines
I don't think I'll be able to reach you
this time.

written july 1, 2007

tequila sunrise

In the morning the sun will rise,
wiping tequila tears from his eyes

chai

The chai leaves a taste that reminds me of you in the dark in my bed and how you looked away all night. "I think I'm falling in love," I whispered and I realized that such a confession should not be a plea. I watched the implications play on your shoulders as you walked out my front door and I knew that this would be the first of thirteen incomplete goodbyes. Five days later I gained a year and the freedom to fuck whomever I want, but all the fucking I've known has been followed by the word 'over' because no one plays the game as well as you do. Or did. Past Tense is your middle name and I hope all those moments that you keep alive will keep you alive while you're alone in your cell. Prison is a dangerous place, and you're right, you're no survivor.

written novermber 20, 2007

cold

It was 1:46
in the morning
in December.
The snow crunched
under our feet,
our ears lost their purpose.
We had spent the evening
in the foodcourt,
in the basement,
in the music
and sex took away all
possibilities ofwarmth.
They walked me almost
to my door, as they did
in the past. Adam was gleeful.
"Look! A shooting star!"
I missed it, I was
too busy looking at his feet.

written december 15 2007

dear memory

beautiful friend, we are just old pleasures. wasting away with what could have been and what never will, we befriend regret, hope and the possibility of another life. we speak of gasping breaths and foggy windows, goodnight sighs and silent kisses. we dance in the arms of childhood. we rest our heads on the shoulders of old age. we live as if there's no tomorrow, because there isn't. there is no future for broken memories.

written november 2007