Just when I get back on my feet you pass on by and I lose my footing Again

There is something to be said of a true friend One who will pull the knife from your back One who will stitch the wounds

I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back

I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all

I know that you were there in my dreams and in my arms Every dream we

If nature were so flattered by poems written with itself in mind as people are we would be moving mountains

I hope this is postmarked before my death certificate is dat… but you’ll know why if it is or if it isn’t If you get this in time

Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin

I wish you had told me that on the good days kissing you would make me think that I knew what happiness was and on the bad days