When she asks about me
tell her that I still care,
please tell her that I moved on
that I never meant to let her go.
But tell her I that I became a teacher
who finally learned
but, don’t tell her that I miss her
as those words are too much for me,
if she is happy now
that’s all I’ll ever need.



She hesitates,
exhaling a pure cloud of white smoke
hiding the meaning behind her words
as I stand conflicted; entirely uncomforted
by her stuttered statement of “okay”
audible only.
As I raise my eyes I hesitate,
old faults now visibly
tearing up her skin
I fear to speak for I
don’t want her to shatter
from my quivering voice.


I told you that 
I needed you in my life. 
You told me that 
you felt otherwise.
I told you that 
I would wait for you. 
You told me that 
you thought I should keep waiting.
I told you that 
I have the courage to try. 
You told me that 
you don't want to hurt my pride.
I said you would be worth it, 
You continued to run and hide.

Empty Conversations

I try to talk
to engage you, actively,
in a dance of words with me.

Twisting our tongues around
sounds, giving way to reason, or,
lack thereof,
allowing our imaginations to escape
the boundaries of our minds
yet you stand, statuesque,
firm in your ignorant state of non-amused
bliss, free from my conversation,
my creativity and words,
my world.

Our Conversations

Sometimes when you are talking I,
I close my eyes and allow myself to
drift away, float on the syllables of your words
and be carried away by the harmonic tones of your voice
if only for a minute while I,
I feed my soul from the sweet, delicate sounds that
resound off your lips echoing in my head
making me no longer a fugitive to my woes, instead now
free, my mind focused on nothing, relaxing to the
warm embrace your everyday song,
until it is my turn and I forget how to speak for fear that I,
I will ruin your song and return to my reality.