It Wasn’t Nice Seeing You

Family reunions are

A subtle sort of warfare—

Of strained smiles and

Relations trying to one-up–

“Oh, your little Bobby’s got

Straight A’s?

My Anne’s showing all the signs

Of an art prodigy.”

And so on,

So on.

Gloat and fart and weasel around

Veggie trays and family photos

Smug grins and–

So tragic, really.

Leave with tight hugs and

“Oh it was so nice seeing

You again!”

Get in the car and

Oh, the audacity of the people

We’ve gotten too far away from

To be comfortable with loving.

She’s a Fixer-upper

I’m going to tell you how to fix something–

Tape it back together or

Jumble parts with nails and screws

And fingernails caked with dried blood.

I’m going to tell you that

They don’t want your tears or pain.

They’d rather not shoulder your


I’m going to tell you that when you feel unsteady

Crawl on.

And when you want someone to lean on

Find something more solid

Than a person.

Grin at them, bottle your hurt,

Honesty will leave you alone–

If you want to fix it

Pretend it’s not broken.


The Young Past

With the piano playing softly

And her voice singing gently

We rest in smoky ideas and chatter

Where lipstick and mascara spatter

We don’t need the night

Our words are whispered and quiet

She placed her hand in yours

And ended all those wicked wars

We took a leap of faith

But we didn’t land on our feet

And our wishes were left to rot

Among shards of dreams we sought

We don’t remember where we were going

We’re not lost, simply confused

I’ll let her voice guide the way

And wander off another day

Thin fingers intertwined with mine

Breath escapes softly nearby

And smoke rises gently up behind

Left by a fire I could not find

Our eyes are wide open now

See all the mistakes we’ve made

But we don’t regret a single one

And we won’t take back what we’ve done

Those years of nothing that ever mattered

Crafted us into people who lived

The love and hate and friends and us

Living upon a single day’s guess

Take us back to the soft piano songs

Back to her lullaby voice, heavy tune

Let us sleep for years we’ve left for good

Where we did what we did–

Because we could.


AN: This is a bit of a flashback poem from a few years back. I used absolutely no punctuation. Q_Q I don’t think the poem is terrible, so I figured I’d post it and maybe rehash it later on to see visible improvement. Or maybe I’ll be lazy and never get around to it. Who knows?

Strict Relations

She doesn’t really love him–
He knows that– of course he does.
She won’t even look at him most days,
Really look, ya know?
He just keeps on with it
Lets her think he doesn’t know–
While she makes eyes at his coworkers and
Cracks her gum–
Always wants to hold his hand
– reassurance, probably,
Making sure he’s not gonna run
Leave her with bills and rent
And a mild sense of
A leash.
He just lets her, content in a lie
Nods his head at his boys’ advice–
Get a new girl–
You deserve better.
Nods his head.
Well, he just keeps callin’ her babe and
Cookin’ easy dinners–
Tries not to notice how late she comes home some nights–
Because she doesn’t really love him–
He knows that.

She Exists In a Shared Soul

There’s nothing beautiful about

Helping someone

There’s nothing sweet

Or good

About holding her hair

At two in the morning

Because the bottle called her name

So sweetly.

There’s nothing cute about tears

Running so desperately–

Her’s and your own,

Because it all seems so hopeless.

There’s no art to this.

There’s no happy ending—

No ever after.

It’s just you and her

Some late night phone calls,

A lot of booze,

And occasionally a really strong hug—

The kind where you can feel


The kind where you share

A broken soul.