(2014)
Just when I get back on my feet you pass on by and I lose my footing Again
You were the wind beneath my wings but I was Icarus so all I did
Everyday I visit the only writers block I know to hone my words and wit and help them cut deeper into the skin
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
I say hello and you say nothing You may hear me you may even think of a response
Everyday brings a new death in three words give or take Some days I drown
There seems to be a drought in my… but who knows if it is the cause or the result of the war raging within me
My heart was paper now folded six times over to make it harder to tear I only hope that
I don’t remember any anesthesia after talking with you but I woke up stitched back
I have whispered your name into the air so many times it has become the breeze that blows
I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
The road is long and winding like nothing you can imagine Too many off ramps to count but too few in hindsight
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
It must be a wednesday or a friday or any day at all for I am painfully aware of the wo… that consumes me
I get my silence in five minute doses before the plane overhead brings me back to earth
