Wednesday, April 3, 2013


stare holes 
through entire evenings;
it’s a shame 
i couldn’t do the same 
to whatever passed and future heartbreaks
were guarding your consistency

stared whole 
into my sense of being; 
it’s a shame 
they all the same
cut me to puzzle pieces 
and left without a single picture of us 

if park benches had rewind
i'd replay cigarettes and white wine; 
when lightning 
reflected like tree roots
through yours and mine;
and we planted forests of the way i talked of brother
and gardens of your india by the sea in summer; 

if eyes are windows,
i'm still unplanting splinters 
from the years i stood too close 

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