Once upon a midnight dreary
Distant Strangers

We were distant strangers oh so many years ago,

simply admiring each other from barstools

sending whiskey and waters to strike conversations.

I remember those days, and what stays with me more

was the tension, the passion between us those nights,

where you would lean in and whisper warm words

against my neck making the hair on my arms dance.

I was grateful for the pounding music then,

and when you buried your face in my hair, I would

place a hand on your painted skin, slowly tracing

my thumb across the hourglass on your arm,

how ironic that tattoo resembled our time together

always slowly running out.

And here we are, playing house years later,

some call us lovers, how we are mirrored images

of happiness and admiration, but I still call us

distant strangers.

Perhaps we moved too fast, forgetting that we

were young, silly, full of light and excitement,

and we should have embraced our youth together.

Hindsight sure is a bitch.

We loved each other so quickly, so passionately,

that it seems to me that we might have run

out of love to offer each other over these years.

The air, so silent and heavy, just hangs between us,

and love does not consume our days any longer,

no…school, careers, marriage, children, divorce,

death, escape. Those have slowly stolen our youth,

taken our love right from our chests.

So here I lay each night, next to the most beautiful

stranger, the one I once loved with my whole heart,

a fading image of our youth, a reminder of my darkness.

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.

Day 4: strangers. 
This little creeper checking me out over Russell’s shoulder.

Day 4: strangers.
This little creeper checking me out over Russell’s shoulder.

One line poetry

You can’t compare people with numbers, because just like the time, you can always depend on numbers to stay the same; but you, oh how you’ve become such a stranger.

In Bed with a Familiar Stranger

We started drifting apart
oh, how I could feel myself
tearing at the seams, the
threads slowly being pulled,
unraveling, you wanted to
expose the darkness inside of me.

We had become strangers
so quickly, that I couldn’t even
name the moment that I realized
how when it all went so wrong.
We were lovers, so passionate
and beautiful, with our traveling
hands and our wild impulses,
but oh, how things have changed.

I remember how you once looked
at me, with adoration in the details
of your hazel eyes, sometimes I would
catch you staring at me, and I’d blush,
running over to kiss you softly.
And now, I can’t seem to get your
attention, or cross your distant mind.

And here I am, still silently begging
to feel your fingers trace my curves,
and somehow, I can’t seem to remember
the taste of your kiss, how I wish you
would gently remind me.

I lay in bed each night with my other half
who has sadly become a stranger to my life.
I wish I knew what tore us to pieces,
pulled the threads that connected our hearts,
and placed this silence, this distance between us.

I Don’t Exist

I found myself staring
at the mirror, leaning close,
holding onto the porcelain bowl
for balance, I had to get
close enough to examine the
details in my hazel eyes.
Something wasn’t right.
I looked deep into the empty
blackness of my sight, it was almost
as if I was searching for something
deep within me, maybe an answer
to how I had become a stranger to
everyone, but most importantly,
to myself.

It was all a lie.
Everything, right down to my name.
I felt this need to lie to people
to get them to like me, love me,
and then I had to stretch the truth
so far apart just to get them to stay.
But I became tangled in the
mess of lies, oh, how my beautiful
mind conjured such stories,
I thought myself to be a genius, but
somehow I became so many people
living, trapped, inside one body.

I had created so many personas
backgrounds, and dreams that
somehow, I lost sight of who
I truly was.
That’s when the nightmares began,
and then came the insomnia,
pacing the barren apartment,
I couldn’t even beg for sleep,
so I could dream of running away.

But the worst feeling, this sickening
void expanding deep within my gut,
was the realization that I had become
a stranger to myself, and I couldn’t even
remember who I was before the lies
grew out of proportion, out of my control.

I have become a shadow,
I am an anomaly.
I don’t exist.

You love to take

You love to take,
just stripping me of
not only possessions,
but you insisted on my
love, on my dreams,
you were so selfish.

Sometimes I don’t even
know who I am anymore,
I stare into this mirror, and
this familiar face is someone
I know I’ve seen before, but
there’s something different,
something stripped and
molded by the greedy fingers
of another.
This isn’t me.

You wanted all of me,
and took it without my
permission, this town has
done the same, ripped at
my seams, feasted on my
insecurities until I felt the
weight of stares and whispers
behind my back become
too much to bare between
my gritted teeth and tears
that were held back.

My heart went cold,
I felt I had to change,
not for myself, but for you.
So I tore down all of these
mirrors, I didn’t like what
I had to see every day.
You replaced my fragile
frame with a painted, yet
estranged replica of a shell
of who I used to be.

And when I catch my
reflection on the silverware,
a window, the blank television
screen, I don’t even know
the girl staring back at me.

You took it all, you stole
the dreams I had at night,
peeled the heart I kept on
my shoulder right off, and
now, I’m a stranger even to
myself.

All you did was take, and
sadly, I’ve got nothing left to give.

Selfish Sight

Yesterday, I walked the
busy streets of the city,
bumped shoulders with strangers
who wouldn’t dare budge from
their track, and the screeching
of tires shook me deep within
my dried bones.
The stale stench of cigarettes
and garbage that had been
baking in the miserable sun
lingered around my nose,
I choked on the poisoned air.

There was a homeless man
sitting beside his cardboard
kingdom, draped in tattered
rags and his shoes were
almost just soles and laces.
He stopped me, asking if I
would buy one of his trinkets.
They were origami creatures
fashioned out of magazine
covers, I saw the sadness
and hunger on his face, but
sadly, I didn’t have any money.

Well, today feels beautiful, and
if you can describe it to me,
the treasure is all yours.
He tilted his head, and I noticed
his lack of sight, it brought
tears to my selfish eyes.

"The sun, the burning goddess
hangs perfectly among the
clouds, shining, beaming her
beautiful face to warm our skin.
There are flowers that grow
between the cracks in the
sidewalk, not even the concrete
nightmare can stop the
daisies from dreaming.
Sometimes the most beautiful
days are those we cannot see,
but we feel them deep within
our heart and soul, making us
feel that we are not so alone.”

It’s strange how a man with
nothing, not even sight, could
make me see the beauty of life.

Maybe I like Being Different

The City Beautiful, or
at least that’s what the
billboards call this town.
But I feel trapped in
this concrete jungle,
surrounded by drifters
begging for some sort
of direction, but sadly,
even though I’m a dreamer
I’m just as lost as you.

I’ve heard a lot of things
from strangers in this town,
saying we are living the dream,
that the Earth is spinning,
but this isn’t what I paint
behind my lids at night.

Maybe I live in my mind,
where everything just
makes sense.
Perhaps I’ve been wishing
on stars each night,
waiting for the clock to
chime at 11:11 to close
my eyes, and think of you.

But with these disapproving
stares, the pointed fingers,
the noses raised to the sky,
I’m known as "different,"
avoided like the plague,
forced to conform.

I’ll hang up my hopes,
lock away my desires.
I’ll live for the future
where nobody dreams.

Wait for love

Whatever you do,
don’t settle for anything
less than perfect.
Find someone that makes you smile
don’t spend a lifetime with
sadness painted on your lips.
Wait for someone who can carry
endless conversations through
the nights, even in the silence,
the words unspoken are
worth listening to.
Someone that makes you cry
only when you’re laughing too hard.
The one that leaves you
speechless, when you can’t find
the most perfect of words,
to tell them how much
they mean to you.

Find a love unlike any other
you don’t want to be just
another pair of miserable faces
among the crowd of lovers.
Someone that will kiss your forehead
before bed, rubs your feet after
a long day.
Cooks you dinner, and orders
take out when they screw it up.


Fall in love with a stranger,
a past enemy, your best friend.
But wait.
Make sure they are perfect,
because that’s what you deserve.