Since you stopped needing me-
I dont write love poems anymore.
Instead Ive graduated to grown up matters-
like the stock market, astronomy and international languages.
Ive invested in half the possible shares of Johnson and Johnson
because since youve left, Ive brought over
47 different types of band aids
hoping that maybe I could find one
just one-
strong enough to heal the wounds youve inflicted.
Ive transformed my insomnia into learning the stars
I can now name all 88 constellations
but I cannot rearrange them
to lead you back to me.
And I absorb the irony in making
wishes on falli
forgotten on the dash
of my American made sedan
are your old sunglasses
oval, oversized, just shy of
ridiculous
warped with water stains
probably from the day
you dove
headfirst with them on
and as you came up for air-
you laughed.
we thought they were gone for good
until they washed ashore
mostly by chance.
from that day
you were inseparable,
these cheap aviator knockoffs
and you with your faded swimsuit
a summer uniform.
no surprise
that you left this memory
a reminder on my dusty dash
that perhaps
I'll wash back ashore
and like these glasses
I'll return home.
kept touch with all the old lovers
reminisced a word or a touch or two
once or twice
whispers in the dark
made it impossible to start over-
we fight we fight we fight.
I tell you
I would rather wake up naked and alone
than wake up beside you
you ask-
"what's the difference?"
we fight we fight we fight.
two duffel bags
oversized and angry
you call out the window
"don't you want a picture or two"
nothing scissors can't cure
we fight we fight we fight
loved you ten thousand times
but my heart calls for oxygen now
not your carbon dioxide lies
we fight we fight we fight
we undress to a strangers tune
strangers watching behind closed eyes
so exposed,
let me juxapose
this memory with every other.
hand in hand and you push me away
no lipstick means no smile and no eyeliner means no eye contact.
not pretty when I cry
not pretty when I try.
We fight our frustrations out
tangled in between bedsheets and
your sticky mess.
shouldnt regret all this time
we've wasted together
could have tried harder
fought for better
Since you stopped needing me-
I dont write love poems anymore.
Instead Ive graduated to grown up matters-
like the stock market, astronomy and international languages.
Ive invested in half the possible shares of Johnson and Johnson
because since youve left, Ive brought over
47 different types of band aids
hoping that maybe I could find one
just one-
strong enough to heal the wounds youve inflicted.
Ive transformed my insomnia into learning the stars
I can now name all 88 constellations
but I cannot rearrange them
to lead you back to me.
And I absorb the irony in making
wishes on falli
forgotten on the dash
of my American made sedan
are your old sunglasses
oval, oversized, just shy of
ridiculous
warped with water stains
probably from the day
you dove
headfirst with them on
and as you came up for air-
you laughed.
we thought they were gone for good
until they washed ashore
mostly by chance.
from that day
you were inseparable,
these cheap aviator knockoffs
and you with your faded swimsuit
a summer uniform.
no surprise
that you left this memory
a reminder on my dusty dash
that perhaps
I'll wash back ashore
and like these glasses
I'll return home.
kept touch with all the old lovers
reminisced a word or a touch or two
once or twice
whispers in the dark
made it impossible to start over-
we fight we fight we fight.
I tell you
I would rather wake up naked and alone
than wake up beside you
you ask-
"what's the difference?"
we fight we fight we fight.
two duffel bags
oversized and angry
you call out the window
"don't you want a picture or two"
nothing scissors can't cure
we fight we fight we fight
loved you ten thousand times
but my heart calls for oxygen now
not your carbon dioxide lies
we fight we fight we fight
we undress to a strangers tune
strangers watching behind closed eyes
so exposed,
let me juxapose
this memory with every other.
hand in hand and you push me away
no lipstick means no smile and no eyeliner means no eye contact.
not pretty when I cry
not pretty when I try.
We fight our frustrations out
tangled in between bedsheets and
your sticky mess.
shouldnt regret all this time
we've wasted together
could have tried harder
fought for better