small talk chit chat
same old same old
say something new
what can I say
that hasn't already
been said
nothing comes to mind
but god dam it
has always been
a favorite phrase of mine.

I almost wrote a poem
saying it would be
the last one
I ever write for you.
                   I almost meant it.
But I reside in a forest of words
I long to lay upon your feet.
You are the only tenant.
Though I have already seen you hunger
for a wood more abundant with beauty.
You yearned
for the abstract; the colorful.
This is where I failed you, love,
for all I have to offer
is the pattern of my handwriting
against a bleak sheet of paper.
How is that to contest
a canvas
that turns heads
with its baby pinks and powder blues?
So I lay here
in the woods
that swarm with lost things,
longing to see the sun again.
And I am always reaching
      and reaching
             and reach i n g
But I am never quite there.
I lay still in the forest
with an abundance of almosts.

It was one of those days
when nothing else seemed to matter
but him and me.
We strolled around campus
with his hand in mine,
guiding me through the heat.
"Hold on," he interrupted. "Have you ever
written a piece about me?"
"Yes." I have written
a thousand pieces for you, I thought.
"I'd like to read one.
Why haven't you shown me any?"
I shrugged.
Because none of them
do your vibrance justice.

You're across the room.
With eyes that spread fire
throughout my body
and hands that devour
my eternal bliss
in a series of fingers,
clashing and tangling
like the jungle that once held
the most ferocious of beasts,
but is now corrupt with the
subjects he once ruled.

*and I don't know if I'm running to
or from you