sunday sorrow

raindrops slide down the skylight above me.
slow and graceful, spontaneous branching
rivers caressing the cold, hard glass.
my mind sees the window crying softly, as i am.
i hate waking alone, especially on a sunday.
december's cold wind whips intermittently,
as the rain alternates between liquid and solid;
a melodrama of wind and water, shifting intensity.
my ears are filled with small, circular foam pads
delivering delicate sensory kisses to my ear drums.
music disguising the loud snarls and deep breathing
of the sleeping elephant just beneath where i lay.
my hand holds a bright, yellow #2 pencil - no eraser
trying to study and instead, expressing my heartache.
i'd rather hold the lover that no longer wants me,
than wrap my tiny fingers around a lead, wooden stick.
like the softly gathered drops on the window above me
love silently slipped from my heart slow and spontaneous.
my tiny bones are now the cold, hard, breakable glass.
*

W.O.W

there are no dwarfs, elves, warriors or brave knights.
no healers near me to help diminish my heart's pain.
only wolves in sheep's clothing that like to bite.
our love was an elaborate costume for halloween,
care and time invested and silently tossed away.
who knew i'd lose it all to a computer screen?

words are all i have now

i don't believe the word i would use is easy, but it sure don't seem hard.
tossing my love away in silence like skipping rocks across my bare skin.
swiping your leg at my ankles to topple me over so i fall fast and heavy.
i will pick my bruised face up off the pavement and wipe off my vintage dress.
walk down the sidewalk as if we don't know one another; morph into strangers.
but my words will be written and my heart's voice will certainly be heard.
plan to endure the words of my pitiful heartache until they're diminished,
my words are all i have now, the only medium i have of expressing my heart.
if you care not to have my words exist than don't sip your coffee at this site.
you have walked through the walls of my heart and left their chambers vacant.
you let me slip away into the silence of words that couldn't be spoken and
i forgot to let you know that you made me happy, i have learned my lesson, but
silence pushed me so far away that my heart will never carry the same rhythm.
in your mind this is all my fault and you tried very hard to make things work
and i will give you that because i never claimed i was a bowl of cherries...

silence kills

this new sadness is tearing out my gut,
warm skin, dripping with salty tears.
mornings without your arms to hold me.
lonely, loveless winter nights ahead.
it's my fault you drew the gun so fast,
but your finger pulled the trigger.
now my heart is sprayed on the walls.
how many mornings shall i wake crying?
pillow soaked with nightmarish reality.
how long until my heart understands...
...that you no longer live there?
*

4.0

i'll have a future when i get there
my head will spill imaginative ideas everywhere
but what is this number to me now?
a reminder of my first heartbreak
how many days of sunshine i have missed studying
how many nights of love i passed up
a combining smell of ink and books
of burning brain cells and both ends of a candle
a number that shows just how lonely the last
few years have been
i know this number will help me win
but right now all it has done is cause loss

at first glance, it's beautiful and mysterious
encompassing all theories of grace and intellect
soaring high above your average image of power
a hint of the future...lazy, loving and decadent

upon closer examination one will find the truth
beauty cloaked in fear, grace simply imagined
intellect dismantling every foundation of love
false cruel tendencies align with manipulation

a number insignificant and worthless to most
denoting lonely travels amidst lofty dreams
unknowing catalyst of jealousy and blame
always the wind to extinguish any wild flame

music free sunday

chained to my mattress for an entire day
surrendering motion to my thoughts,
granting them the silence they demand.
ink stained sheets laced with crumbs and
a brilliant, orgasmic word explosion
that leaves me craving cigarettes and beer.
*

$87 organic rip off

it was a recipe for an incredible night...
blueberry wheat microbrew flowing from a tap.
salads delivered straight from garden dirt.
nitrate-free beef and free-range chicken.
gluten free pizza for digestive happiness.
but, hidden beneath the allure of healthy eating and
the 'handwritten', earth-conscious menu,
hides the repetitive truth of organic indulgence...
three salads, two pizzas and a beer a piece
will murder your wallet whence the check arrives...
leave it feeling empty, disemboweled, stripped of purpose.
but, alas...my stomach didn't roar back after i ate
and i don't know what the bathrooms there look like...
and for that i will pay any price.

dear journal

the keeper of my deepest secrets,
indifferent to my crazed mind...
i can't sleep at night with you
begging me to pen my thoughts...