Always one step away
from the waves to your right
and my hand to your left.
Always in the middle
between how I saw you
and the edges of my memory.
And always I keep stepping closer.
I think it’s the getting closer
that makes your feet colder as they move back in the water.
And then I begin to forget what you look like.
As your body disappears between the foam in my mind.
The sound of the current drags your voice away.
Your smile disappears beneath the waves.
I know you can swim.
I know you can find your way without me.



Saying “used to” has become my past time
because it’s past time to find my inspiration again.
It’s what made me feel more than a useless piece of shit.
I lust for that once great luster I thought I held…
I thought I could have held you:
my muse, my wonder.
Perhaps because I haven’t seen you
I haven’t been able to make use of the time on my hands
anymore than I used to do.
In fact I’m using my time less and less
as I run out of time to use for all the mundane things that I’m doing
instead of writing about you: you my muse, my love…
I have forgotten if I loved you, or the feeling you gave me.

Same Brain/Same Page?

Do you think you are qualified
to be with a man who has never been satisfied?
Or have you overestimated your own talents
and the severity of my intoxication?
You’d think that I’d be easy to invite over.
Ah, but those who believed that have never seen me hungover.
Better think twice about trying to find your way in:
my brain might not be on the same page yours is.


The way he looks
appears to be
as if he is enticing me.
He could, in fact,
be acting completely naturally.

The way the air
begins to flow
between his breath
and every word
could be a sign he’s wanting more.

Or perhaps
it is just the way
he sews his phonemes
into morphemes.
Nothing out of the ordinary.


I must have gotten lost
in those big brown eyes before.
Because being lost
without your string to follow
is much harder
than I thought it ever
would have been.
I want to see you again
because my mind doesn’t wander
when I have a fixed point
in your eyes I can anchor to.

Sowing the Seeds of Love

Author’s Note: The following is an unedited pen-to-paper poem I wrote on a rather large sticky note. It has not been revised or altered since I first wrote it.

Who would have known
the boy I met all those years ago
would be the apple of my eye today?
I guess the seeds were sown
long before I could have ever known
that you would make me feel this way.


3:48, is no one else awake but me?
Not the ones I don’t care about, not the ones I don’t need.
I’d like to think the ones I love are thinking of me.
Awake but dreaming of what we already could be.

I seem to be doing this this time of day, day after day.
Thinking of you, thinking of you thinking of me,
or at least I hope you’d be.
Nights all seem as one, continuing infinitely, eternally, endlessly…

8:03 and I know that time has passed.
Days seem to move past, leaving me behind.
I’m still wondering what you are doing,
if we are at the same place we once were.

It seems that I forgot the date.
I used to check it to see when we’d meet again.
But I’m content with thinking about our current state,
than meet up for an update.

11:57, I’m in heaven.
Darkness is still outside my window,
but I guess that’s just a way from keeping
from keeping change away.

We can stay in once place
at least until I ready to move.
For now we aren’t stuck in a limbo
just in a place where I’m safe.


You’re just a shell for me to fill.
My own ideas shape your mind.
What movements I want dictate your hands.
Your eyes always meet mine.
I am in love with your body, not your being.
Once I make you fit my mold,
I fall in love with every moment
when I let you in my head,
when I move my hands to where yours should be,
when I look and expect to see you.
This is as close as I’ll get
to the lover that has been my dreams.
I fell in love with that dream
and not with you.
I just chose you as my vessel.