little raindrop tears cling
to the carnation's petals
like spray on pink cheeks

This is not a love poem
this is an I love you do you love me like
I love you poem
do you know me like
you think you do poem
this is a would you be disappointed
if you did poem
an I have been feeling the chilling of the air
and I cant tell if it is just the fault of the season
or if you, too, are cooling
whatever heat you had for me
browning and falling and
crumbling between my fingers
like the leaves of these oak trees
in november poem
a what would I need to do to keep us warm poem
and this is also
an I may be completely mistaken poem
an it was seventy degrees today poem
this is a show me I am completely mistaken poem

bright colors
aren't for movies anymore
the water make noise
even just for me
and when i look up
clouds aren't stagnant

i can remember
i can relearn

the bright colors
the sound of waves hitting concrete slabs
the ivy behind the gate that doesn't have to choke like most other does

bright colors
warm clouds
cold stones and ragged peaks
that don't - can't - cut me

keys are tools not weapons
and this pen is not designed for bleeding out

fill me
soft petals
red coral
feel me

bright colors
stilled feet
tender flames

all mine again

I drink pink grapefruit flavored drinks
my face smells like the citrus
when I lose things and people
I change my hair
it helps me cope with the idea that I can never finish a stick of lip balm and most of the people I've known only yield disappointment
no one is at fault here
but the blame is usually pushed into my intestines
and I spend five days throwing up
I used to be afraid that I would never see the entire world
now I'm afraid I'll never spend enough time in a place I can call home
every morning the smell of grapefruit grows stronger

i've written and posted
seventy three poems
on this website for the sake of you
and for the sake of my own safe keeping.
this makes seventy four.
seventy four poems that i've written
and still i don't think
i ever really
said
anything at all.

Absalom usurped the throne
Ungrateful for his flesh and bone
His heart as cold and hard as stone
Declared his father’s house his own

Absalom, who in his greed
The fourth commandment did not heed
Rode his horse at breakneck speed
Anxious to see his father bleed

Absalom, who would not see
The just way for a son to be
From all good sense with haste did flee
And ran his horse right through a tree

Absalom is way up there
His feet are dangling in the air
Caught up in branches by his hair
Round the tree men stop and stare

Trapped Absalom, the young upstart
Had no one there to take his part
Joab armed with deadly dart
****** it through the young man’s heart

Joab thought the victory won
The messenger did gladly run
The King’s question was only one:
What of Absalom, my son?

The messenger confirmed his fears
And David weeping manly tears
Mourned his son’s lost unborn years
To cut the heart of each who hears

Today, I had a drink

For the first time, the purpose of it wasn’t to numb the pain you left

But to simply

Have fun