(2014)
I grew up in a house built in 1937 long before codes and regulations and sometimes
The pen must be mightier than the sword For there is nothing that will spill your guts faster than a bit of ink that says
I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
If I was once the tallest mountain your love was the wind that eroded me to nothing
So much time passes without feeling a single thing that I think I would give anything
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
I have whispered your name into the air so many times it has become the breeze that blows
Life is an uphill struggle Nothing comes easy and only hard work pays off I don’t like hard work was my 5 word protest
I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back
I thought I could drink you away but I had to stop being so drunk on you first
Loving you was never sweet like the taste of vanilla the way I thought it was supposed to be It was more like
My heart was paper now folded six times over to make it harder to tear I only hope that
The road is long and winding like nothing you can imagine Too many off ramps to count but too few in hindsight
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
It must be a wednesday or a friday or any day at all for I am painfully aware of the wo… that consumes me
