Haunt

My mind just keeps going back to you.
Your close cropped hair,
Your mismatched puke green sweaters,
The bar stools,
The loft.
My mind just keeps going back to you.
The getting of your water bottle,
That led you to cross my path that morning.
Such a simple thing I observed,
That scared and thrilled me at the same time.
Just observing you
That tightened my stomach into knots they said were butterflies?
Yet, I knew deep down this wasn't how it should be.
There should be an air ship,
And a type writer
And an artist in her room.
Writing what will later be printed,
Sold.
Not a girl on her feet in a room looking at a man
Who will always haunt her and never want her.

Him Revisited

I love you,
And I still think about you
I remember a time when I thought to myself
"I haven't thought about him today, or yesterday."
It was at that moment that I became familiar with the idea
That you were not a daily thought for me
That time in my life had passed
It took ten years
But that time in my life had passed
I also remember very clearly  a dream I had of the two us
I'm still very keen when it comes to you being in my dreams
Even if it's a fleeting moment of you observing me on a couch, etc.
Anyways
This dream was of the two of us at a restaurant, high up on the hill
And maybe it's the somber like mood or the indie music I'm listening to
That makes me think of this dream
But you sat across from with an expression that can only say
"You're an adult now."
And that dream is the prelude I hope for this today
Because I loved you
And It's okay to let you go, maybe

I will be changing the domain name of this blog

New name to be posted soon.

Maybe I should have done more?

I cleared these hands out for you
I set my fists on fire
I let in high tide
I rid the world of the inability to love you
I set forth a bookcase full
Of the stories
That I wrote
So you'd be happy
And it wasn't enough
It wasn't enough
Because you are still not here.

{Author note: (ha, ha like I'm an author) I now know the ending to a lot of these poems put in draft mode and also why they are put in draft mode.)

Dear who think I'm dumb:

When I'm talented and at least a little in the same relation of those you consume for entertainment;

You are truly eating off my dinner plate and Sh***** all over me.

he loved me
Maybe so
That's the truth
And I'll stick to that
I don't have time for much
But I have time for that

I sat there in silence but the hum of an electric light bulb. I thought, this must be what going to prison feels like. A period of time wrapped in silence overseen by an irrelevant observer.