Once upon a midnight dreary
If I Were a Star

It hurts when you realize
the people that you love
have changed, or perhaps
it’s you that has become
someone different, almost
a complete stranger to yourself.

But that is what happens in life,
things change, and you can either
dwell on the past, like staring at a
tattered photograph, tears welling up
in your distant eyes, wondering if you
could pin-point the exact moment things
began to change, when the person you
knew so well became a fading memory.
Or you can accept that your lives have
slowly drifted apart, and hold those moments
you shared close to your heart,
but the latter somehow seems so much
more difficult to fathom,
now doesn’t it?

I believe it is because as people we
struggle to accept change, only when
it is unwanted, of course.
It’s strange to image how one would
simply fall out of love, but we have all
felt that hurt, that twisting pain, the
growing blackness within our chest,
the one that cuts your breathing short,
and eliminates hunger, confides you to
those linen cotton monsters, wrapping
their selfish claws around your flesh.
We can’t image the thought of the one
we love the most, waking up and realizing
they have changed, and somehow they get up,
and walk away.

But I imagine people are like stars,
burning, shining together, perhaps
only for a short moment in time, but
that moment stays with us, longer than
we would like to admit.
And to be honest, if I were a star,
I shined my brightest with you.

Nightmares of You

The days, with their
burning sunrises, singeing rays,
dew soaked, humid mornings,
those I can handle.

But it’s the nighttime,
when the darkness begins
to slowly set in, as if the sky
was a blanket being pulled
over us all,
that’s when it all beings.
And it quickly gets worse,
you know, it’s that eerie feeling when
the sun retires beneath the line
where the ocean meets the sky.

The silence of sleep and tired
hearts, where I’m left with
no one but the darkness and
my over active mind.
I lay confined to this coffin of
a frame, staring out at the stars,
the narcissistic burning bastards,
and I think of you.

I pick apart the words we wrote
in the letters that year when our
love was torn states away.
And I search for something,
anything to possibly expose the
moment it all went so wrong.
Somehow in my mind, I think if
I can find the words, erase them,
and try again, it will be as if we
never disappeared in the first place.
But that’s never how it ends up,
no, for it was a series of moments,
days, months, years I spent slowly
fading out of your reach, and
suddenly, I had become someone else.

This is when I can’t take it anymore.
Here at night, when I’m left
with those arrogant stars and my
blurry, whiskey soaked mind,
waiting for the sun to wake, and burn
these nightmares of you from my mind.

Slow Motion Nightmare

I don’t know what I could
have done to make you stay,
sitting here on the lonely back
porch I balance the cancer between
my yellow stained fingers, and take
burning gulps of whiskey.
I admit that I think about the night
that you left me more than I should,
I replay it like a film on loop,
over and over in my clouded mind.

We weren’t ourselves that night,
no, I don’t even know how we
had become such strangers
over the years we had spent together.
We had grown so far apart, it
was a slow and painful process, and
I hate myself for not noticing it sooner,
but hey, you didn’t do anything either.

I want to blame you for the nights
that I cried myself to sleep, begging
my tear soaked pillow for answers,
I want to blame you for the distance
that stood between us, the silent
conversations, full of words that
were left unsaid.

But as much as I want to hate you,
and blame you for this sickening void
lodged deep within my chest,
I know it won’t change the love that
we abandoned, and the time we wasted.

So I spend my nights wondering
what I could have done differently
to make you stay, who I could have
pretended to be, just to keep you around.

But I can admit that deep down, I know
we were just caught in a slow motion
lover’s nightmare, and you couldn’t
wait to wake up and leave me in the dark.

I hope you’re happy

I need to get these thoughts
down to remember
where I am, who I am.
Look what you’ve done to me
a recluse in the end,
is this what you wanted?

You shoved, so I ran,
and while the idea of us
seemed like a place
I could call home,
my heart was states away.
We should have seen
this coming, we were
such wonderful liars
right from the start.

So once again I scour
the streets, never speaking
your name, for it
burns on my tongue
but the suffering remains
in this poem,
as I once did.

The fire inside of me

My heart was ignited weeks ago,
set ablaze, this burning
beast raging deep within my chest.
The smoke filled my lungs,
but I’ve conditioned them,
coated them with tar over the years,
so that didn’t quiet the
screams and sobs escaping
my dry lips.

The thick grey fog began to
steam from my ears,
and the burning started to
run it’s course through my
crimson veins, blending sweetly
with my warm, pumping blood.
I could feel the embers of my
beating heart slow,
tasted charcoal on my tongue,
coughed and spurted ashes
and reached out for you,
but you were no where to be found,
what an unfamiliar surprise.

The blazing fire that has
engulfed my heart has
slowly burnt out,
leaving me with the
stale taste of fire hanging
in my mouth, and an empty,
smokey void where
you and my heart once shared a home.


If you were water,
I’d love the rainy days
where I don’t move from
this empty bed.
If you transformed
into the sun,
I’d bask in the burning
rays each summer day.
If you became an ocean,
I’d learn to swim and
allow your satin blue
tongue lick salt off my skin.

But instead, you are
a hurricane, whipping wild
tearing through my streets,
tousling my curls.
I felt you pass through me,
almost as if you lingered
there for a moment, but
then you were gone.

Sometimes I wonder
if you were even real.

And I am just paper,
the blots on a transformed
tree, and all of these words,
magical dreams floating
in my mind, these are all
that’s left.

You might have been a
disaster, but you were gone
so quickly, I struggle to even
remember you, and here I am,
these beautiful thoughts,
oh, how timeless I will be.

Mysterious Love

His passion was contagious
that infectious smile
which revealed ivory bones
moist with perfection.

He had these mysterious
mannerisms, unique
perspective on this chaotic
mess of reality that he
called his life.
He seized each bright moment,
stepped on cracks in the
sidewalks, and at night he
would take burning gulps
from the whiskey bottles
we would share over
conversations of old memories
of first kisses, and heartaches.

I drank his words as
he held my hands,
softly kissing my fingertips.
We were a sight to see,
the two of us, sitting there
drinking away the misery
in this world, focusing only
on the mystery and
beauty we found in each other.

I wish I were a memory

I lit another cigarette
heard the click of the lighter
the crackle it ignites.
The ember flickers to autumn
shades, licking down
the slender white paper.

I don’t ash for a while,
but watch the burning end
growing, transforming the
white into a depressing shade
of grey that falls silently
and floats away with the breeze.

They remind me of dreams,
memories, burnt and released
into the open air to float
away, to disappear forever.
Oh, how I wish I were just a memory.

Under the Moon with You

It was still light out, but
the moon dared show
her pale white face.
He pretended to know the
constellations, making up
names and stories for those
burning specks in the sky,
he said they are dying slowly,
but then again, so are we.

The sky had turned an eerie
shade of orange when the
sun decided to rest, I had
never seen the stars so bright.

We laid in the bed of the truck
on a thick blanket, our arms
were so close to touching,
I could feel the warmth of his skin
the burning sensation of the
anticipation of our fingers intertwining.

He pointed to the star right above us,
See that star, the one that
shines the brightest, I named
that one after you.
I felt my stomach tighten and I
could have sworn my heart
jumped into my throat, I turned
to feel the soft moisture as
our lips met for the first time.

We hid there under the
darkness of the sky, like
a blanket keeping our
love a secret, only the
glitter of the stars, or
the milky moon light
would give us away.

Night Owls

It’s been a while since
I’ve woken up with the same
set of bones sleeping
next to me, not for this long.
The same pink sheets
swallow us whole right before
the burning sun rises, you should
see us, a couple of night owls.
He was a beautiful distraction
warming these lifeless sheets,
he kissed me long and soft,
pushing my bangs out of my face,
holding the back of my neck lightly,
I tried to hide my smile between
his moist lips.
These nights holding each other,
our tattooed bodies creating a
canvas of lovers.

I wonder if he knows that he
painted my life the most vibrant
of colors, turned my world upside down.

Look what you’ve done

I need to get these thoughts
down to remember
where I am, who I am.
Look what you’ve done to me
a recluse in the end,
is this what you wanted?

You shoved, so I ran,
and while the idea of us
seemed like a place
I could call home,
my heart was states away.
We should have seen
this coming, we were
such wonderful liars
right from the start.

So once again I scour
the streets, never speaking
your name, for it
burns on my tongue
but the suffering remains
in this poem,
as I once did.

I beg for sleep

I don’t sleep at night anymore
I’m plagued by these nightmares,
but I’m tired of keeping you
in my worthless thoughts and prayers.
Sick of counting, keeping track of
the kisses and stares we once shared.
I paint my eyelids with the darkest
shades of black, focusing my sight
to the dripping moss between trees.
I keep my eyes glued to the sun
waiting to burn out my sight,
wishing these rays would shine
through my mind, wipe out
the memory of your face.
It burns so badly, but I won’t look away.

The crumpled photograph lies on
the floor, speckled with dirt thats
come loose from my shoes.
Porch lights case shadows in the night,
and when it’s biter and cold out,
I swore I felt you lingering near.
Remember when you’d transform
your fingers into a false cigarette,
mocking me and my cancer qualities,
invisible smoke escaping soft lips.

It’s that wide mouth I want to forget,
that smile revealing chipped teeth,
with knuckle imprints on ivory stone.
Those lips, oh, those delicate,
soft pillows, so perfect and inviting.

If I could forget that smile, the taste
of lust and deceit on your tongue,
I would be rid of these terrors that
haunt me during the darkest hours,
and I could sleep peacefully once more.

Playing Dead

The day was full of light
the burning star hung high in
the cloudless blue sky, warming
our colorful skin as we
walked the alien trails in town.
The southern drawl was thick
on his tongue, bringing me back
to my Alabama nights where
I was innocent and young.

We sat under the tree drinking
lemonade and whiskey, when
he asked me something strange.
Why are you so empty?
My breath stopped and I felt
as if all the words had escaped
my lips, my voice had vanished,
my eyes remained fixed on the dirt.

I sell myself short, falling in love
with every man who will
lust me for one dizzy night, then
I back out, find issues and hurt
in the nothingness and sneak away.
I’ve become the empty
handle of whiskey I chug at night,
and he could see right through me.

He could tell I was just
playing dead, and he wouldn’t
let me disappear like that.

I wish.

I wish rocks were more
than just stones trapped
in warm soil, and
I wish these trees could
speak to me tell me their
oak secrets, saved only
for the dreamers, like me,
craving the sweet ancient
melodies they sing.
I want the breeze to be more
than the wind blowing
through my hair, maybe
they could be the whispers of
unwritten love letters that once
were spoken to the clouds.
I wish the sun was more than
a burning star that singes
my pale skin, I just sit here
in the grass while it prickles
the backs of my legs, and
I wish.

I wish on every blade
of grass, on each limb of
the trees, that you will
somehow make it back to me.
The world seemed like so
much more when you were around.

Don’t forget to remember me

It’s strange how photographs mean
so much to people, isn’t it?
How you can capture a moment,
a smile, a laugh, a kiss.
These pleasant images, meant
to remind you of a blip in time
that can bring more light to your
heart than the sun can ever share.
But I ask myself, while I look over
our photos that have been hidden
deep under my bed in a box with
your name on it, why do I cry so?
Why do I torture myself with
memories of years when I
knew what love felt like?
I was beautiful then, remember?

Why don’t I burn these pictures
and spit into the embers of our
wasted moments that I’ll never get back?
But I don’t burn them, I can’t.
If I discard these photos, burn,
rip, or toss to the garbage, does
that mean these moments
never really existed?

I keep these photographs to remind
myself that at one point
I was beautiful, I was loved.