Nice.

Yes, your line breaks always feel very natural.

Totally. What she said.

Truth... thanks, Leigh.

Thanks, Tazz!

Thanks, KC and PKH.

Last night, I kicked your ghost out of my bed.
He said he loved me and begged to stay.
I shook my head and pointed toward the door.
A single tear was all I had left to shed.

He gathered the last of his emotional baggage,
And that pop-up copy of "The Little Prince."
He staggered down the stairs into the darkness.
Just like you, he didn't look back.

If you're the devil or Holden Caulfield, I can't be sure.
I know your ghost was my unreliable narrator.
While I will admit, I miss the sound of his voice,
He only left me cold and wanting more.

Ha... I love that South Park episode.

Thanks, Tazz!

Thanks, ladies and gent.

You said you dreamt of a girl
With purple hair
Who liked to listen to Leonard Cohen.

She would love you like no other.

You would share your stories
And with your words
Soon, you would hold heart,

Hold it in your heart forever.

On the anniversary
Of your father's death,
You came to her with a black bag

And Leonard's "Book of Longing."

You laid together,
Only inches apart.
The girl nervously waited,

And watched a new day dawning.

Slowly and softly,
With a deep voice,
You read to her

Page by page, in her bed.

It was then she thought,
If perhaps...
She had dreamt of you,

She felt free to kiss you instead.

You said,
"Don't be alarmed,"
And showed her your scars,

She showed you hers in her words.

A thousand kisses deep,
She would love your darkness.
She would know you,

Chapter and verse.

With a sheepish grin and bright eyes,
Against the bathroom wall,
You called her,

"Exquisitely beautiful."


But when purple faded
To mousy blonde,
Leonard played on repeat.

And the girl was no longer useful.


You lived your life as if it were real.

Thanks, Kevin. This is one of my favorites by Neruda.

Surely he must have done something worthy of dumping. Perhaps that could be another angel story.

Of course, twice daily. Sometimes three times on the weekend.

That's good advice; I'm sure that's exactly what he would say.

Happy poems are never as interesting. Everyone is bleeding on the page.

Falling far from grace
Flying out of space
Forgive it all.
Let me fall.

Sugar can't you taste
Sweetness on your lips?
Gone to waste
Consumed abyss

Turning Turning
Burning Burning
Silence Stillness
Lifeless Dimness

Bend beneath my pride.
I am frightening, alive.

Kiss and kill me
But don't conceal me.
Push and pull
At least you feel me.

Give in Give in
Begin Begin
Cascade Charade
Dream Serenade

Sleep with me
Somewhere beyond the shadow of a doubt.

I can exist,
Mirrored by you,
Leaving a reflection
Of my placid self.

So here I am,
The new me.
Where have I been?
I've become some else.


Say I feel no depth,
I swim in hollowness.
Afraid to go under,
Might drown in shallowness.

Dip my feet in the water,
Leave the rest to sleep.
Pressure fills my ears,
I hear the deep.


No need to bother.
I found a place to hide.
I'm under a rock,
Far on the dark side.

Don't know what I've felt,
Haven't swam in my mind.
Some subtle shallowness,
That's all you will find.


A rush of the damp,
In this person I hate.
The shallow thing I've become,
Too dense to separate.

Cool and clear,
A body of truth.
Surrender to the current,
Only peace I ever knew.


No depth to fear,
As I ride the wave of blue.
Yet, still my shallowness,
Leaves me deeper than you.