Tag Archives: words

Don’t Ask Me For Words

You asked me for words,
and that I cannot do.
I resent you for asking,
but maybe I should cast
pity on how little you know.

You poor little fool,
the worst a man can be.
Deluded little beautiful fool.
You’re the worst I’ve yet seen.

Do you misconstrue
me or the act of love
itself? In sending
thoughts in lettered
drafts, through phrase
or by mouth.

I couldn’t give you words,
what caused you to even ask?

To give you words, single
or few – would to give
my soul – and why would I
give that to you?

Now I’ve wasted words,
thousands upon more,
I’ve wasted my soul to
the wrong receiver.

And even still I wouldn’t
offer you one.
I wouldn’t dare.

Why would you ask, what
would make you think
that I’d give you them so

Mistakes mixed with days

The ringing in my ears
refuse to quiet now.
Now, I’m alone, with
nothing to show save
the loose contents
of my bank account.

Spent three days
drinking and thinking
and not trying to think
about you –
but it hasn’t worked.
Not like it was supposed to
but it makes it feel
better – this idea of losing
you – when downing a
drink and two….

I’m digging a ditch.
I building the walls
so that the next time I meet
someone half-as-good as you
they won’t fall down and
reveal the worn-out-wasted
broken-shattered me.

This is about me,
dealing with the ‘about you’,
and words lose diction,
meaning falling down.

Ears reminded, hearing
the melody of the song
from us, about a long time ago,
when things were new and
falling-in-love wasn’t a choice
but a rule.

But now I’m digging a ditch.
Building myself in from the world and you
as I drown. I’m not sure what to do but
swim in this blackened pool,
but arms get tired.
And the mind cannot live
in a cave built for one.

I’m digging a ditch,
building the walls so that the
next time I meet someone half
as good as you,
they won’t know the worn-out
wasted-broken-shattered version
of me as you knew.

Near Midnight Song

She kissed his neck, where pulse met skin.

‘You are alive.’

‘Yes I am,’ his statement struggled with short laughter that puffed out in two breaths.

‘And one day you will not.’ No answer came from he, neither movement nor word.
‘And I have you for this moment.

How wonderful is that.’