Lacking

my nakedness too concealing,
my rendering of truth too nuanced,
I offered shades of gray so pale
as to mimic opaqueness.

yet could words have ever sufficed?
or would a single touch reveal more
than 10,000 of my curlique prosaic ornations?

should I find only cold there
surely then I'd know
or a hint of warmth might bear witness
to an ember of feeling too cherished
to extinguish

when two who are estranged
look past one another
only themselves in a mirror they see
a true image of the other
lies out of reach on the far side
of the glass, wide like an ocean,
maybe too distant to measure

Smoke

drawn into the air,
pleasant wisps
of vanilla vapors,
fragrance of
last year's love,
token to
remember you
by

float, swirl,
steam to ether fingers,
towards escape
under crease of
a shut window clasp;
of this
there can be
no more...

gentle
folk
essence,
purify this air,
your remnants
pressed upon
my glass heart

an ash of resin
I cannot
bring to flame
ever again,
no matter
how strong
this light of mine
burns

destination
mercifully
insulate
from even
mine inner sight,
lest this
sweet perfume
of snowbell nectar
speak
only of loss,
and never again
of what
you and I found
those
many
spring days

A Stand-In 4 Tears

I dont do acquaintnces
I wont do plastic smiles
I dont giv fals hugs
& wi u Im not able 2 pretend
so regrtfully I must inform u,
my usta-b-close now formr friend,
our assciation is presntly cum 2 an end.

Tha it is so @ your behest,
is assurdly best,
relieves th pressure off
th tension of lost luv
& neithr of us hereaftr
shall hav 2 wondr
where we stand wi th othr,
& thas no minor thing...

I know this is not eXctly wha u had in mind
whn u nudgd me snidly undr tha bus,
not necssarily th choice ud hav chosn 4 us,
2 part wi such finality, such ignoble ignominy...
but trust me its 4 th best this way,
th subcnscious powr struggl ovr
who left who, who now
holds th moral high ground,
who contacts who, why, how & when
where 4 art lie the boundries
btwn formr f**k friends...
...these will all cease 2 b @ issue,
far less worry 2 occupy our minds.

Tha life moves on is a givn
& thus I dont imagine youll
spend much enrgy wi sadnss;
although gladnss perhaps would not b
appropriate neithr, so 2 covr th bases
Ill hav a glass of 'passive indiffernce' 4 both of us,
non-alcoholic of course.

Tha I did luv u is undniable - ppl dont
hav 2 keep sharng orgasms 2 b in luv - &
I would hav blissfully, proudly gon on luvng u till
th last drop of lif rannth fr my cup.
I knw tha sounds funny cuming
fr some1 so far away
in both distnce & desire but as I say,
4 me luv need not b hitchd
2 th romntic nor merely 2 th agape...
I guess put thus
1 could c such a luv as condtional
& if so I guess Id b guilty as chargd,
I demnd tha my belovd accpt
me as I am & Ive certnly got my share of quirks (oh stop laughing!)

But in any case:
sayonara, au revoir, toot-a-loo,
tak care, bst wishes & good-bye!
I may not shed tears over it,
this is as close 2 a good cry
as I cld muster.

New Jeans

the outlook today is high & mighty
sanitized by the cold winds of yesteryear,
thats them same old fears
born of childish wants & wears
and I stripped from those old clothes
so long ago, so long ago

The Best Thing (Or A Primer On How To Cope With Complete And Absolute Rejection From Someone You Thought You Loved)

the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
would be to forget about you...

I saw your picture today
a flood of memories came
more than I had anticipated
I still feel the same...

like a lightenin' bug in
the bottle of a child
like the cliche of the
moth drawn to the fire
my heart still beat doubletime
whenever I imagine you and I,
so...

the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
would be to forget about you...

foolish misunderstandings
combined with my immature ramblings
I'm the only one of your saviors
who could never save ya...

you're a dark pit of disillusion
anyone can see, because thats
all you allow yourself to be
but I swear I saw something
much more deep...

oh I saw and see so much beauty
across the years, miles and styles,
my memory is etched in now
but yellow and brown are the sounds
of despair you turn to when you're confused
and I wanted to take it all on with you
but you pushed me away so

the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
would be to forget about you

will one day I find you by chance
dreaming in your sketchbook
in a cafe in Paris, France?
you may not recognize me by then
but I can assure you I'll still be your friend
can you comprehend? till we meet again

the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
the best thing I could do
would be to forget about you

French Fried

So yeah, we made it
like the rabbits do
And, um, sure u made me
that tomato salad one time...
well, ok, u showed me ur t*ts
online, I remember that too,
must I continue??
One thousand and one memories made
rendered Sunny Delite by
the squeeze of age
So don't remind me, OK?
I'm feeling particularly french fried
at the moment and
rest assured its not 'cause ur hot...
rather, it's that soggy
feelin' that come when a
man done cummed his last
for a piece a a** that
don't want his mustard
no more

The End Game

the hope of battles won & lost
on the battleground of love
for both lover and loved,
for victor & vanquished,
for enamored & unrequited,
is to exit the arena
(somewhat) more whole
rather than less than...

Its a fine wish but one
not often granted, and
for both sides...
For as they say:
"All's fair in love & war"
and them clashes yield
scar upon scar, even
for a winner, for a loved...

I myself have seen, thru
the vision of the heart,
that the pain born via
the very quest of love
- that unquenchable desire
come from the leaving of
the womb, the withdrawal
of the teet, the very first
cries of young life -
is an indelible pain that
does not fade with a
successful romantic campaign
but only evolves and transmutes
into the fear of loss
of the new 'possession' ...

and so never does it end,
this pursuit for a satiation
that will not come,
indeed cannot...