I'm being faithful to nothing,
to a memory,
to the ghost of what we never had.
But letting someone else sleep under these sheets,
hold me like you did,
feels like betrayal.
So I rather go to bed alone,
       cover my body with your shirt,
                and if I try hard enough I can still smell you in it,
than let anyone else erase with their touch the prints of your hands.

You said
The most brilliant thing
You said it was
Like a heart surgery
But he was only a
Surgeon in training
And had neglected to
Mention beforehand
That it was only
Exploratory cardiac surgery;
And it was just for his
Simmering curiosity
(He couldn't have carried
Out a simple angioplasty?)
That he cut the aorta
That's what you said
And his curiosity subsided;
And he left as you bled.

Four and a half children die
Each day
The statistics say

This is a terrible problem
You say
You urge your employees to listen
To listen well
To watch for the warning signs
To prevent it
Yes, please
This is a problem
Each day
Four and a half children die
Because of child abuse

What if I told you
Your problem is bigger
So much bigger
Exponentially larger

Yes,
I would argue
That number needs to be
Adjusted

More like
Hundreds of thousands
Of Children
Die
Each day

As they are
Neglected
When then they should be loved
Verbally torn down
When they should be built up
Touched
Where they shouldn't be touched
They die
Slowly, painfully
They are
Alienated
Slowly, painfully
They sink away
Flipping inside out
Caving in
Only in their very depths
Do they find anything
Even remotely resembling
Solace
They are
Confused
They are
Angry
They are
Alone

There is no one
No one to talk to
No one to trust

At some point
Their senses cease to exist
They stop tasting
They stop smelling
They stop seeing
They stop hearing
They stop

Feeling

And everything goes
Black and
Numb

So they stumble
Eyes closed
Arms flailing
Thrusting there head above the waves

Sure, they're still breathing
But they're not
Alive

last summer
I met a boy of 6 feet tall
he is two years older than me
he listens to punk rock
has an alcoholic father,
and his kisses
are sweeter than honey
and softer than silk

we spent countless, long, dreamy
cold, rainy, humid
nights
in my backyard
with the smell of too much hairspray
which I can not bring myself to smell again
and mosquito spray which I never apply anymore
11pm
4am
the hours passed by like minutes, seconds

under the stars
telling secrets
I was scared
scared of losing him
even though he was already lost

fading
disapearing
slowly and then all at once

hallways
silence
stares
me alone
him and her

11pm
4am
hours seem like eternitys, milleniums
crying
flashbacks
thinking about the us that will never be
blood spills on the paper
spelling out your words, promises
do I even cross his mind
maybe  probably not  no

I'm sorry I wasn't
skinny
pretty
funny
admirable
good
enough

I'm sorry

we didn't even say goodbye

goodbye, Brandan