Tag Archives: ponderings


I don’t remember how I like to sleep
The inside of a kitchen drawer
Or a suitcase-less floor

I know the elevator buttons here
React a bit too slowly
I know he’s letting go of me –
I don’t remember when it started, but I can feel it growing
I remember knowing
That this couldn’t last forever
I remember feeling better, I remember we were changing
I don’t remember breaking though I think we tried to fix it

When will he get angry that
My nerves are getting jumpy
I don’t remember feeling calmer though someone said I could be
I remember knowing they’ll choose what they want to see in me
I don’t remember losing the chance to take the stand
But there’s a suitcase in my hand
And somewhere else I need to be.



If you and I no longer fit in this bed where do we go I knew you once behind all the smoke how could this all be a joke to you there’s a time and a place for our love so it goes If that place is gone then I guess I’ll let go but my open door policy’s officially closed I hope that you know – no one will fill that space for you, that’s up to you, and I fear that you’ll fail though once I did believe in you behind all the smoke and the lines that got blurred and the promises given that you wasted on her if you and I no longer fit in this bed it’s time to relinquish your place in my head though once I was sure opposites could attract I cannot be all the things that you lack, the spine in your back or the heart in your chest, infatuation at most but at worst even less.

Her Too

Did she mean it when she kissed you
Twisted you around her body
Would she have fought me for you
Could she have won?

Did you enjoy her taste
The place her dirty hands wandered
The lace between your fingers —
Ones that once belonged to me?

“I wasn’t thinking” is a sinking thing to say —
Where was I in your mind?
Vacant space, momentarily erased, replaced?
Well now your hands are dirty
Does it hurt to know you hurt me
Do you question your decisions in the way I question mine?


I found the note you left
Behind in the kitchen, behind the coffee pot
That I used to put on for you
After nights I kept you up too late
And clothes that I took off for you
Those are the last words you will write for me, I know.

If blame must be placed
I guess this falls on me this time
I’m sorry for that time you saw me
Getting choked up at my desk
When he finished that marathon
and I heard his name broadcast on the radio.

What I’m trying to say is
When I saw you putting on your glasses
I knew I loved you both
And I tried so hard to choose you
And to live every day like I was in love
But the questions kept you up at night, I know.

What I’m trying to say is
I like to put my dress on in front of an open window
Then poke my head out to see who was watching
Not for attention — to avoid the static
I fear all things stagnant
Your distrust in the frenetic is not something surprising.

I read the note you left,
The last words you will write for me
I’m standing in my kitchen and I feel good but a
couple tears drip down; I’m just starting to feel it
I loved you both and I did mean it
You think this falls on me this time, I know.

What needs to be said.

I think what needs to be said is this —
I miss the twists of your body
But not the way you twisted me
You turned me into someone spineless,
How can someone smart become so mindless?
I will never fill you in again.

And I’ll never be your sun, your moon
I know you’ll never howl for me
Wander the streets ’til you find what you lack
A place where you can rest your head
At best I was a body in your bed
At worst, much less.

I know you’ll never bend for me
Although I almost broke for you
That night, in your car, I could’ve sworn
I saw you bleed
But I’ll never be the things you need
And I will never try to be again.

I remember I believed in you
But I cannot remember why
If it’s only because you told me I could
I only have my self to blame
I wanted to believe that people change
You found one final way to let me down.



Time heals all, they say
I don’t know who, but they say
Time heals all
So I stomached the words and believed them to be true
And the minutes, they don’t
but the years somehow do
Someday you slowly
Find that you’re fine
A little less whole, and with a little less time
But fine just the same.

It wasn’t always good
But in some ways it was always good.