I Walk These Streets

Do you watch for me,
Out of the corner of your eye
Calculating the odds
Of my walking in
To a place I never went to
Without you

Do you make lists in your head
Of all the things
You would like to tell me
If things had been different
And you and I
Still closed our day together

Do you wake up from dreaming
That my hands
Were on your skin again
Your face against my shoulder
And you no longer had to regret
The kisses that never happened

Or is it just me.

Change the Needle LP

I meant what I said
When I said goodbye
I opened the walls of my heart
and I set you free

I went through the motions
Of missing you
But the music inside me
Was anything but sad

So we danced like old lovers
And we talked like old friends
And we closed our eyes
To rest against each other

And the dawn came slowly
But when I opened my eyes
The music inside me
Was singing with your voice.

Perspective

To survive you
To survive me
I must stand at a great height
Stare down at the world
Mesmerised by the skull crushing distance
Try not to think about jumping
(This is about us,
Not me)
And find a point on the horizon
To measure up against
An absolute to decide
Amongst all that music playing inside my head
Which song I should be dancing to

Nothing Good Happens After 2 AM (This is just before)

It's almost two in the morning, and I'm smoking cigarette butts from a nearly empty ashtray. The game, that should have been engrossing is fading away, and I am left to wonder, as I have so many times in the past, what I'm looking for.

It isn't that I'm alone here, I can do better than just handle aloneness, I love it. I am not awake and restless because there is no one to share my bed tonight, or even the house.

I think, in the dazed, fuzzy yet startlingly insightful way one can in the wee hours of the morning, that I don't know how to not be in love. So I am forcing the issue with Ekat, or rather forcing it with myself so I can obsess about him, of which I am now thoroughly bored. He is a truly amazing man, but just not twisted enough to give me the fodder I need for proper obsession. Too straightforward and uncomplicated (for which I am of course at some level incredibly grateful, having much experience with men who lap up my obsession and let me imprison myself in it).

Though I don't give up easily and have spent the last four hours quietly formulating the best way to be horrifically upset in the coming days. I have discovered, unfortunately, that I'm bored of this too, and it depresses me that I don't really care. Not about him, or us or where we are going or any of that.

So I'm awake. The match just finished (United won if anyone's wondering), I'm out of cigarette butts. And my thoughts have no one to caress.

Agony/Ecstasy

And quiet is the thought of you,
The file on you complete,
Except what we forgot to do,
A thousand kisses deep.

And sometimes when the night is slow,
The wretched and the meek,
We gather up our hearts and go,
A thousand kisses deep.

Formal Complaint

Oh fuck off Universe.
And isn't it way too early in my cycle for PMS?

And, why am I like THIS?

Sunday Afternoon Coffee, With You

I miss you my love
And all we were sure to be

I can't stop reliving
Rerelishing, redrowning

I stare at the strangers around me
Drinking their coffee

My eyes and my heart
Filled with anguish

Silently screaming
Until they edge away, puzzled

Unsettled by the nameless pain
That rips out of my skin

Writhing in the agony of maybe
Every time I think of you.