Flower Power

I had some fresh
flowers in
an apartment that
I rented a few years back.
They were of the most brilliant color,
with petals that
were rather short
yet full of attitude
and fragrance.
But they didn't last,
or so I had thought.

I found them again
just the other day
while I was looking
for something else.
They were brittle now,
more delicate than before,
but beautiful they had remained
both in sight
and smell.

Some flowers
never die.

Moving On

Bury me face down
You should know
I always slept that way.

Bury me with a pillow,
My flask,
and my Parliament Lights,
And nothing more.

Bury me shallowly, please,
So I might still
Feel the drops of rain in spring.

Bury with me
Your sadness and hurt
For I am in a better place.

Bury our differences
As I surely would have
Buried them with you.

Untitled

If you were here
We would dance,
Laugh, and kiss
As we always did.
Blood-stained lips
Screaming of Red Cat euphoria.

If I could see (again)
The collision of Our two stars
In your eyes,
Patience would etherize me.
If you would
Transform my dreams
Into roses that cease to wilt,
I would abandon them all
Happily dreaming yours
In place of my own.
If you could show me-
If you wanted to show me-

If I wouldn't prefer
To drink a bottle of ketchup.

My passenger seat

Where do you
go to find hope
and love?
Do you look
in a page
in a song
in a fish tank?

I once found a flower
in my passenger seat.
Short and sweet.
It watched as I drove
mocking my music
and my shoes.

I took it with me
to denny's.
I tried to order it
water, but
it insisted on
Dr. P.

Then I delivered
sent my flower.
I tried so hard
not to let go
that I pulled
too tightly
on the petals
and hurt it.

Now my flower
is gone.
Now my passenger seat
is empty.

The fall of Paris

And so it is
that my hand
passes from your chest
as we come
face to face
with that which
we ran from
for so long.

Be not unhappy
nor unhappy about it.
It is what it is.
Let it go.

My smile will remain
-green and white-
in your wallet
for you to spend
when thirsting
for the memory of he
who risked all of Troy
to love you.

Think of this
as an inoculation.
Who could ever
love me.

Washed up

Still glowing in the darkness

of my mind, your face,

soft, bright,

and salty wet.

You found me

when I was so lost

I thought I was home.

You wormed yourself

into my apple

with your forevers

and talk of one

in a million.

Now the brookwood

washes up on the beach

after the storm,

worn, battered,

and disregarded.

Some promise.

There was a time

then

but it's gone.

I'm washed up

too, now,

and done with it all.

I love you, even now,

and I hate you for that.

I always will.