i put off writing about him for a week.
11/11/2004 11:22 p.m.
i'm sitting on his carpet
breathing in the scent of his room;
the one i used to smell on his shirt
when he'd hold me close

and i am amazed at his ability to
look me in the eye and
say exactly what he feels
even though it tears me apart

so i lose my self-righteousness
and cry into my hands
confessing
that i was wrong, and
begging him
to forgive me

"i have no place for you," he says,
and how can i argue with that?

*

i walked with him
and the 3pm sun
through a path of yellow and red;
our feet shuffled and crunched
over the carpet of autumn

the trees caved in around us
and the branches were a stencil for the sun

slowly, he speaks to me
about the way things have changed
and i wish i could
close his lips and
hold his hips
and make the truth dissapear

because in this beautiful place
i want nothing more than to
make the two of us beautiful together