Monthly Archives: June 2011


She was searching
among the roses
for someone who could blush
with embarrassment
and laugh when nothing was funny,
all the greats did.

She found herself crying
when it was clear
the roses were covered in thorns
and she was all alone.


Coney Island

Come on, my dear, just look around, the view from this height is spectacular.
Yes, it’s just the top of the Ferris wheel
but it might as well be the top of the world.
See how everyone looks like no one in particular
from way up here.
If the sky wasn’t so hazy we could see all the way to California.


You Can See Enough

1. Shock. Denial.
We used to look at each other with locked fingers and excitement
just to look.
There was nothing else to see.

Time deteriorated us, our focus was lost.
We became the blurred background
of other sights
our eyes desired.
The breezy beginning of our time was through.
We were stuck with the work of us.

We continued slowly through the thick wilderness
that we’d become
not knowing if it’d get easier
or if it was worth it, felt misled.
The exchanged promises were made for a different life,
a different result.

We hoped we could wait out the seven year itch
that came five years too soon
as if it was a bout of the flu.

2. Pain. Guilt.
I look at you, love
with your dark grey irises
and pupils of endless depth,
and wonder what you’ve seen
in me
and this short life.

You spew sentences
at me
as if goodbye is just a word
I’m supposed to understand.
I tried to understand.
I don’t know you.

You stand there,
hands in pockets
circles under eyes
tell me you want to know me
I think maybe you do.
3. Anger.
There are hours and
thousands of miles
separating us.
I haven’t slept in months.
That’s a lie, but it feels like the truth.
You’ve left me exhausted.

I despise you for this and my
long-distance bill,
it’s nearing triple digits
but it is the least of
all you’ve cost me.

4. Depression. Reflection. Loneliness.
Every shared glance was the last glance
and every “I love you” was forged.
Such false emotions
peppered most of our days
and nights.

This absence is real,
it tastes of salt and tears.

If we’d only taken the time to see how far
we were drifting apart,
this disconnect wouldn’t have set
between us like concrete
We couldn’t go back.

5. Distance
Don’t be surprised if I seem distant,
I’ve been crawling over landscapes while you sleep.
There are places unweighted by you,
the trouble of us,
it hadn’t seemed possible.
I come back foreign-tongued
wishing for less of you.

Your eyes follow me,
squinting with disappointment,
as I slip through your arms and the window
away from your life.

6. Reconstruction.
The reflection of the unrestrained ocean
in the swells of your eyes
is tragic enough to kill me.
Fighting the desire to fix us,
I grow weaker.
Give me some room
to breathe this sea breeze in and out
and clear you out of my mind.
I’ll stop drowning in this sorrow sea
once you stop tossing me to it.

7. Acceptance.
There are spaces between us
that have grown in time.
I’m not marinating in nostalgia.
This is the end of us, the dark of us, and
darker, it’s getting.
Only the whites
of your eyes can barely glimmer
and you look at me like I’m disappearing.
I am disappearing.
I can’t see a face in front of my hand
and I won’t see you anymore.

Tagged ,

Reflecting the Disorder

Looking at the reflection of my worried eyes in the scratched mirror
I try to see if my eyes reveal my honest thoughts.
I’m thinking I’ve never been so alone
but I only see green irises and pupils, emotionless.
I could cry if I wanted to.
I will cry,
to see my eyes fill and empty, fill and empty.
I’m not sure what I’m proving to myself.


Riding Coach on a Transatlantic Flight

I can’t feel my feet
or hear my thoughts
at this altitude!
The millions of heads
that I fly over
cannot attest to this, but it’s true.
The humming engine drones on
and seeps into my organs.
I don’t want to drink another drink
or wait in line for
a shaking, claustrophobic lavatory.
I’m contaminated by this
capsule heaving over the ocean.
I can’t sleep or eat or drink
at the adjusted hours of our landing destination.
I miss my old hours
and I’ve forgotten who I am.
In flight I am nowhere.