there is no market out there
for sad-eyed swaggers
down lonely avenues,
clinging to purse straps
like open hands, thinking
"if i walk into traffic, he will know that i care for him."

the bed is too large.
the swallow is too thick.
the emptiness is too deep
and i am wallowing again,
but not for you.

i come home to cold pasta,
and the rhythmic breathing of the cat.
i take off my clothes
and imagine your eyes over me,
and then,
i can't remember what your face looks like
when you come.

i want so badly to be all that you need,
but i am not enough for anyone.
i am cradling a loneliness heavy enough to sink you
but you would never see that,
you would only mourn me after i was dead.

well look here, boyfriend,
i am clinging to a desperation so thick
that you have to peel away the layers just to find me.
haven't i given enough to you,
haven't i?

i eat by myself,
and i turn off the television,
and i know where your arms would be
if you were here, and what you would be saying.

"i am tired.
i am falling asleep.
you are..."

but you don't finish.
you are somewhere else,
chasing magnolias,
and i am walking home alone,
my tears freezing to my cheeks
wishing someone would assault me on the street
just so you would feel bad.

02/20/2011

Posted on 02/20/2011
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