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

Everyday brings a new death in three words give or take Some days I drown

I get my silence in five minute doses before the plane overhead brings me back to earth

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

You asked what I knew about you and I thought up a list of twenty things

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

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

Hope in another form but no fewer letters and I’ve been hoping for these past eight years so I’ll just keep on

I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first

If I was once the tallest mountain your love was the wind that eroded me to nothing

The hands of this watch haven’t moved since the last time you did and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear the ticking