She uses words that make men purple and blue inside,
and hides behind the criticism that she wields like a loose dagger…
and the fact that he still loves her makes him sadder and sadder…
like what is the use for such an unreliable emotion…
what is the point of loving amongst the pushing, shoving, and eyes cutting…
what’s the point of reaching or believing the nice only to end up on the floor retrieving
the pieces of broken self she’s left…
how many times does one have to be taken on the same ride before he know what comes next…
The End.

You made me Love you

You made me love you...
I didn't want to do it,
but now I'm in it
and you did it...
made me want you
next to me...
my desire vexed me
and now I can't shake it!
Can't take it,
or take it back.
I let down my guard
thinking that you'd pick up the slack,
imagine that...
reciprocity.
You made me love you
despite of how you felt for me
and I didn't want to, really.
I thought it would be silly
just wanted you to feel me
and you did..
but at the same time you hid
you tucked away all affinity...
we fucked away the possibility
of actually having something rea.l
You made me want to tell you
how I feel.
Now deal, 'cause you made me love you,
and I knew I shouldn't do it,
but screw it...
I love you

Stolen Segments of Empty Space

I'm counting the seconds until I can see you again
and as seconds become minutes
and minutes hours a nervous
anticipation is building in my stomach
what will I say
For everyone knows that one
can't be too honest
with his feelings for another
It's the "ego clause" in The Handbook of Life and Love
I fear that even this poem is slightly inappropriate,
yet I continue to humiliate myself with humble phrases
and projections for a future
that may have ended last night

though I continue to write

so that I may stop
counting stolen segments
of empty space
Ajar