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
kissed
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.

mat kearney

when we were young we had
Nothing Left to Lose
another year older
now and the stakes are
raised, so you choose
lower the bar
lose all pretense
[I can still hear the trains out my window
From Hobart street to here in Nashville
I can still smell the pomegranates grow]
it’s reminiscence that keeps us alive.

haunted

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.