Tuesday, February 3, 2009


I spent the night listening to songs that I always told you I loved
and looking at the past in color and black & white.
In particular at the way your plaid shirt fell open
when you leaned to kiss my temple as the flash went off.
Some nights the absence of your snoring wakes me
and I sit bolt upright searching the covers,
convinced you are around here somewhere.

In the background you can see the stripes of your sleeping bag,
the fabric waiting for us to lie upon it.
How soon after the shutter snapped did we-
Or was it before?
I can't remember.
It's fading, the feel of your skin,
and there is nothing that can bring it back.
But at least I have proof that it happened, and that I
I was happy.

Monday, February 2, 2009


late at night when it's morning for you
i pretend that i'm watching you choose
what clothes you will wear that day
the mirrors of your closet doors
still have prints from my shoulders
and the fog of my breath on the glass

you've been spending some time in egypt
with your brother and sister you've seen
sights that i could never attain
and the nights out in newtown with your friends
staggering back home to your bed
do you ever wish i was in it?

some days i just can't stop thinking
about the way you looked at me when
i was lying beside you
but i'm sure you never think of
me with any love
it's all gone now anyway