crossed wires – 3.4.2018

we keep trying to make sparks

-or is it just me?

your honesty and my ears

are a thousand miles apart

-how long has it been since

you’ve told me the truth?


and maybe no one notices

and maybe the machine still works

lifting you up and carrying you off

and leaving me here to wonder

where you’ve gone


these crossed wires

are starting a fire

-that you’ve chosen to ignore

i’ll let it smolder on

from where it rests within my chest

until it finally burns through

and i am left




false idol – 3.4.2018


you stand, statuesque

in silver

your hands across your chest

prepared to impart upon your audience

your latest high-brow mystery



you speak with renewed

self-righteous fervor

your arrogance like coal

in the furnace of your chest

sputtering black clouds of truths and lies

you believe you were the first to find, but


falsified unknowingly,

you’ve lost your sunshine glow

and now you only stand still, shivering

in the gray shadow of

the past.

subway train – 3.4.2018



and after all these days, still

you’re like a subway train

you rattle through my thoughts

on the hour every day


and i cannot get away;

as you tumble past too fast

to stop

or trace back to the start


you’ve so woven a routine

in the railways of my mind, now

i’ve grown accustomed to the hum

of thoughts of you passing by.


an honest ramble pt.2 – 1.18.18

i can write page after page after page on how i feel. at this point i’m probably just borderline cliché- a thesaurus for poems i already wrote about how you broke my heart.

i can write these words; i try to write these words, to find some sort of closure, to explain to myself how i am feeling, to let my brain catch up to my heart.

it takes me ages, takes me pages and pages and pages and yet i still write more. there is no muse i need but a blank page and this memory that i apparently cling to for dear life.

i can write another poem, just like all my other hundreds, but i’ll still feel a twist in my stomach when i remember the first time we met.

i can reorganize it all, put it into a book with chapters and themes, but i’ll still wonder why i love you so much when i watch you show me to my face how little it is you care.

i could print out a copy and bring it to you, and force you to read these lines of hurt, but i’ll still feel a start like a burn to my skin

when you smile and hold my gaze. when you laugh and cover your eyes. when you talk about things with me that no one else does but i’ve always wanted to. when you motivate yourself even though you’ve failed before. when you stand a bit closer than i expect you too. when you look at me too long and i wonder what you’re thinking of. when you go out of your way to make someone feel important because you know that we all need to sometimes. when you talk to someone else and converse with your eyes, and give them all of your attention. when you make an effort to be interested in what i love. when you look only at me out of a roomful of people and ask how i’m doing, in the silent breath between conversations.

i believe that you could care, but i scoff at my naivety when i remember the days i believed you did- in fact, i thought that something would happen. i really thought that something would happen.

bruised – 12.25.17




              hands around my brain




              wind against my face




              memories of you


              am red and black and blue;

              the other colors left with you.

an honest ramble – 1.2018


sometimes its up, sometimes its down

sometimes i feel my eyes

soften as i look at you,

and sometimes looking at you

only makes me want to cry.


we talked about people who only

put their best foot forward,

and that’s what you do with me-

involuntarily, but still-

i only know the you that comes out in the day.


still i’d like to talk the day away with you,

would you like that too?

sometimes it seems as if you would

(but wonder if you really should).


i hope that there’s no part of me that

sticks out as a flaw,

because all i see of you is

tempered; cool and strong.


you’re an ever-present presence in my mind,

an always shifting mirage of a man.

you surprise me when i’ve set a boundary,

mostly on how i should feel for you.

i try to control it but i know i never do.


and yet i feel i know you like i

don’t know no one else.

and yet you make me feel like

a stranger, still, sometimes.


sometimes i write an angry poem;

but most of all my words are sad.

it’s only in these lines that i can

truly show my honesty-

if it’s tied up pretty with a

rhyme and a bow

then it doesn’t matter who reads it;


it doesn’t matter who knows.

but i could never say this to your face.

maybe that’s why i write so

goddamn many poems about you


maybe i hope that one day you’ll

stumble across a page

and somehow realize it’s you

that i’ve been in love with

all this time.

your ex-girlfriend

i know her face now

i know who she is – who she was

in fact i’ve known for a long time now

and it was so long ago i found out in the first place

and all my vicious energy was focused on her face-

but that was before i knew;

thus, her face a blueish hue

her eyes filled up with you

and her heart was swollen too.

her hair, most likely long and sleek

her body thin and soft to touch

i knew that you liked her so much –

i didn’t want to see her face.

i didn’t want to see how different hers might be

from mine.

hers, surely sharped and edged

her skin smooth and radiant

her smile, one that made you smile-

no, i didn’t want to see her face.

and now that  i know (though then i knew), it only makes me think of you.