summer liaisons

missed phone calls
mine and yours
remind me
that i don't remember
the last time i heard your
voice in person
remind me
that i probably don't
love you
remind me
that i'm a bitch
missing phone calls
remind me
that i probably
don't miss you
but what i do
miss
and this i
remember
is the chase
the way you feel good
when you know
someone is admiring your legs
stemming out of a short skirt
and how it feels
when you know he's grabbing
peeks at you
out of the corner of his eye
as he passes you by
i remember how it feels to wear
that tight pencil skirt
with heels
as i walk by his open office door
that i remember
but i don't know if that
can translate to the real world
missed phone calls
remind me of summers past
and how my summer flings
never seemed to last

you said you'd call.
my hair was in perfect curls
and my dress,
just a little see-through,
hit my thigh
and i waited

waited for you to pick me up
and sweep me away
i waited
you said you'd call

i fielded other invites
my hair started to go limp
and my dress still skimmed
my thighs.
i waited.
i almost wasted my good hair day
on your call that would never come.

i left.
my curls tousled by the night
my dress danced around me
you called
but i had already left
you never saw me that night

why is it that you always find a way back into my life right as i'm succeeding in talking you out of it?
how do you know that i'm swearing off of you for good? how do you know that THIS time is THE time and that i would've succeeded?
how are you able to fit back into my life after making it painfully clear that i have no space in yours?

In the Mourning

for me,
a new day does not mean a new hope.
along with sleep, i wipe my dreams
from the corners of my eyes.

it's the dawning of night
that brings the onset of ideas
and grandiose schemes
for the days to come
and it's the day that comes
that leaves me laying in bed
and wanting nothing more

the sun used to be my love
but now all it does is illuminate
the goals i haven't reached
and the bad life choices
i've made

but in the dark, i can pretend the
path i'm on is the right one
and that maybe i haven't gone astray.
sadly, night, like sleep, is fleeting
and soon it's morning

soon i'm up with a smile on my face
after having wiped the sleep
and dreams
from my eyes
they're still in my hands.

Tiny Boats Floating on Wine

bottles of wine litter my mind
drowning thoughts
letting others float
like boats without a captain

boats aiming for home
with no regard for the currents
just hoping
for warmth in their future

little boats filled with little lights
brimming with ideas
floating the endless sea
behind my eyes
hoping to make contact
to make an impact

it's why my eyes
glitter after a few bottles
and why
i'm so interested in talking with you
when otherwise
i don't give a shit

Sheets

white pages
like my bedsheets
clean
and devoid of you
your indentations
any trace of you.

white pages
soon scribbled on
bedsheets
soon rumpled
indentations start paragraphs
your shoulders
start leaving marks
in my mattress

black pen marks
white pages
used

Only with 7 broken strings could i hear what you speak

wake up to the sound of the stereo
blasting a familiar song
singing about love
but it doesn't sound like it
you have to read the lyrics
to know what the words are
because the music drowns out the voices
which sing such beautiful words
words you can't even hear
but i guess i don't care
because i'm used to it
because that's how you are with me
i never hear what you say
you have to write it out
for me to know the beauty in your words
and how your mind is wrapped around love
and i like how most of the time
you're wrapped around love
for me.