listening to classical
music on vinyl
and writing makes
me feel
like
bukowski.
pour me
a bottle of
alcohol flavored
honesty and
i will be
ready to
tell you
anything.
when i miss you,
i am told to build
a bridge and get
over it. instead,
i go to the water,
splash around,
laugh and pretend
you’re with me.
taking the planks
meant for bridge
building, i construct
a raft and float upon
an unending river.
missed connections
i.
i didn’t know how to say
hi, you are beautiful
so instead, i mentioned
how articulate you are.
i wish i had waited for you.
i hope that stupid love songs
make you think of me so
i’m not left singing here alone
to a tune i’ll only listen to when
the need to sing about how
lovely you are threatens
to explode
every night we
say “sleep well,
sweet dreams”
and i think of
how sweet my
dreams would
be if they were
always about
you. then
sleeping well
would never
be an issue.
