Hindsight

We ran so quick,

we ran so quick

we cut our feet.

Out of breath,

we were

out of breath

and clutching that glass wall.

Smiling at each other

with some kind of victory.

We were panting

and it stung.

We were supposed to walk.

I dared you to run.

Sorry about your splinters.

Alone

There is a shadow that stalks me;

down alleys, round corners,

and into the hallows of my lungs

It sits so deep

and pushes so hard,

and breathes the breaths I didn’t want to.

It cracks my bones

and hammers my heart.

Until I,

brought to my knees,

can do nothing but sob.

The hunt began the day I closed the door,

and left you bitter.

Now every mention of you brings a howl,

as the creature brings it’s rage,

and extracts it’s pain,

from the memory of you. 

Just Sheets

My sheets still have your skin cells

They cling to them,
as if your scent was their substance.

I’ll curl up tight into them

and disappear

and disappear

and disappear…

… and miss you.

I’d give my own arms

for these to be yours;

my own breath,

to feel yours on my skin…

But these are just sheets,

and that’s my own panting,

and these are my own sobs I’m holding. 

Ruthless Stiletto

I’m tumbling down piano keys

who’ll sing my sonnet of woe.

In a smoke filled room,

with teary eyes and swirling glasses,

smooth jazz is soundlessly snug.

I’m the woman in black with red lipstick,

whose lips are parted just so.

A tall glass of disbelief and mourning

is swirling in my right hand;

in my left beats the still-bloodied knife.

It had to be done.