the thing is,

here is the thing…
you’re in my head, my heart, my soul
it hurts the marrow in my bones

and maybe it’s not you at all
rather the idea of it —
love at first laugh, I mean.

It got to be so bad, didn’t it?
All the anger and fights
fleeing, and the time I yelled at you
to get the fuck out of my car.

But I mostly just remember instead
the silent way the snow fell as we
on the nineteenth of December.

it’s infinite

And this is my thought—

that I will die alone surrounded by cats
after a lifetime of watching as everyone around me is
enveloped in love and achievement
while I whither on the vine
a spinster, a hag, has-been who never really was.

So I’ve relived that sweltering June afternoon in Arlington Cemetery
a hundred times, maybe more
as we hiked the hill and saw Washington’s monument
eyes filled with tears, drenched in rain or sweat or both
and that day was hard but
filled with possibility
as I drove away from you, soonafter that city
sad, but confident thinking I’d never look back
… not once.

But I was 23 then, 25 now and in hindsight I know
when I drove away it was
without direction, speeding along
not bothering with maps
and here I am
floating in an infinite abyss.


the night brings
life to the shadows —
sound to the spirits that
tiptoe through the halls
and there’s a ghost
here, I think with
unfinished business
to whisper about
on wind and creaking stair
echoing round the walls

fear bades
me flick the switch, light blinding but the
ghost remains for
it’s not the house that’s haunted.


Quiet is a din when
memories call
max volume filling my head with strumming guitar and soulful croon as the only solace
‘cause I love that I can’t hear nostalgia whisper your name
over the yelling at the bar,
the booming beats of Bell House
with the whiskey drowning out
all the remnant noise to
hush the sound of my heart
beat beat beat
no longer ringing in my ear
bleating a constant drum beat
of my life going on and on
and on, and
until I had you,
I never knew silence could be this loud.

lies we tell

I’ll never love another
as I have loved you
and my soul will always
yearn for the
things you said
things you did
who you were
when you were with me
I’ll grow, old and grey
thinking of the days we
spent tangled
in dormitories on
cheap mattresses
and the plans we had for
libraries, pies and dogs
named George, a little girl called Margaret
But these
are the lies we tell,
the lies we believe
when we say bittersweet goodbyes
not knowing they are lies at all
until we find sweet hellos

would you

We sat, staring up at the Milky Way
my feet in your lap and yours in mine
humming along to Paul McCartney,
“falling, yes I am falling
and she keeps calling me back again”

there’s a right and wrong time for coming clean;
keeping quiet
I the latter
for you are you, I am me, us not we
shifting from porch to living room, and you
wrap your arms around
the temporal calm of content
I kiss your cheek; my heart quickens
out of anticipation, but much more fear
as it suspended, aware it could be dropped by
my only request,
lay it gingerly down,
would you?