Poetry

……in the corners of the world

unseen but for 

beautiful, demonic months  

hopping the night’s blues 

                                                  or

                                                                  sun-kissed wildflowers

                                                                 growing in abandoned strip malls

i think you won’t find round edges

                                 but rather unfolded pages 

(i like to collect them) (they hide unrequited truths)

 (the ones that roll off your tongue when you’ve forgotten how to pronounce) 

                                                                                                             (the right thing to say) 

and i wonder whose brave enough to write about crumpled pages?

how do you pronounce the name of lost soulmates? 

 no one ever tells the full story 

because truth be told, 

all stories are 

grotesque, piled corpses of the 

         never 

                     to

                              be

                                  repeated

                                                   past!

we prefer to unsee the scary holes

in our present left by what’s gone  

it’s safer for our hearts, stolen like pennies under bus seats 

yet i think a lot about 

the familiar shapes of our smiles as we 

texted each other 

                                                                               in the dark

smiles like summer oranges cut in half

the insides of your pink lips full and citrus-sweet 

like they can only be when you’re young 

when you’re blind except for the bejewelled bits of fantasy you can find in other people 

and it’s sad that in the very corners of this old world, 

disconnected from everything but money 

and scattered discontent 

often i only find the cracks where i would have liked for you to hold me by the back of my hair 

and kiss me like that one last time

kiss me like 

                                  if we can’t have forever let’s pray to the beautiful instants 

but in these same cracks, 

i no longer feel comfortable but stuck 

                                                                                       In the realization 

that people like you and i have outgrown each other