no yellow signs on the road

If your desire
was a deep
as the sea
inside your eyes
then nothing would
arrest
your heart,
as it chased after mine

but the truth
so much darker
empty
bleak
and void
its not your
fear
or caution
that keeps you
from my side

void

There is an emptiness
that resonates in my fingers
resides in my toes
makes a cavern of my heart

There is truth
that cannot be spoken
a pain to real to face
the truth is
I was nothing
just a body to fill your space

I left no mark upon your life
your home
or heart
or mind

Its as if I was never there
and this suits you just fine.

Trista

Yes, I love you.
Isn't that enough?
To satisfy your soul.

Spring

I know how it will go,
T.S. Eiliot told me so
 I will wander in The Waste Land
if you remain Prufrock out in the cold.

I should beware the ides of March
lest I find my heart bleeding
on the steps of all we hold dear

My heart is a sheath for your knife.

I will buy myself lilacs
to mourn our passing
and wear them in my hair
through all of April

In the Spring
Peaches will ripen
and fall to the ground
wasted.

Sex is not a whore

a sexual woman
is not your whore
her desires
do not diminish her heart

your cock is not her god
your kisses not angels

desire washes over her
but it doesn't drag her humanity
out to sea
rather it washes her clean
of all the ambiguity
the rigid starch
formality
of playing at not wanting
what every human wants

but her desire
does not make her
your whore, your mistress, your slut.

be joyful of the sexual woman
revel in the privilege of her favors
respect the enormity of her heart

I waited all night
for the sound of your voice
but met only silence

it waited for me
hovering about my room
like some perturbed ghost
knocking over my things
rooting through the closets of my heart
creating a mess of my emotions.

My phone sits perched on my pillow
like a blackbird
it holds all my dreams
but it will not sing tonight.

for a moment
when you kissed me
I dreamed we had a future
but then I woke to find you
with your arms around another