poet, reaching middle age
everything became
metaphors to write
so he was either
incredibly alive
or stone fucking dead
Dusk
Evening
in shades of pink
fluorescing the hint of night
bidding its farewell to the daylight.
For Max, London, & All That Was
I miss the you
who bought me
yellow scarves
and coffee
but not the you after.
traffic.
saw my time slip,
felt my sweat drip.
tapped my feet twice,
sighed impatiently thrice.
Live Free or Die
I'm no longer free
Not the girl I used to be
Death sounds like freedom
100 stories down the drain
You loved me
You wanted me
And I’m so sorry baby
But I, I didn’t
Thinking About a Taurus
The Jimmy Choo
whispering around your neck
makes the dark of the living room
like chocolate.
Adrift.
And so I float on,
unmoored and alone,
hoping to anchor,
with that special someone,
anyone.
.5
your side of the bed lays vacant still
i was cut in half when you left
Until we meet again-
As God left the building,
I’m tipsy.
In my ears
last night’s decadence is still singing.