you called an hour and a half ago

i've been looking for you for half of that
cuz you said you wanted me to come get you
i thought well maybe not those exact words
but similar, implied, insightful.
yet i didn't find you. went by work 3 times
by the bar once. it wasn't that crowded, you
weren't in there. not that i saw. maybe the bathroom?
maybe those 30 seconds i was scopin it out
you were in the loo? oh yes, yet me continue to rationalize
your movements. as if i even care. as if i should.

this is the breakup blog, isn't it?


this is the final shore before we push off.
well here's one from today:


the air's verdant with crickets

their hum reverberates with my tendons,
swimming in weariness and hunger. lassitude
of consumption. i'm eating you up. i've gained
fifteen pounds, each an augur of dissatisfaction.
"it's all in how you look at it", yeh, but when i look
at it, it's all in the blasted faded yellows of over
exposure & sunburn's sensitive skin.

i tell him i can't do it anymore. these small things
break me i break you. we have a fight
like a real fight like flights back to my long
unhappiness. who loved then? he wonders.
maybe only a child would believe my story.
he's growing up

sees my eyes stitching defeat into desire
sees the pinking shears cut hills and valleys
in our cloth. cotton. all natural. the bed
is hard and pine blonde. one of us must
sleep on the spine. who is in less pain?

you don't understand. the suicide doesn't
care what you think. too late is the essence.
this pain will be the last. my love knows
what he means, begs to be let in again.


till death do us part? you'll make sure of it?
feels like blackmail, this leavetaking i do
in advance of the exit. your body in the tub
skin split and rusty with my regret.




*





everyday i try to come to terms with my silence.
what i don't tell is how much i want to believe
in what could become. but which story is it?
the patterns! math
doesn't lie. the best we can hope
for is some escape thru error.

my neck always hurts. your neck always hurts
you slide into my depression with a bottle of stout.
the first time fight becomes the next time fight
and i excuse you on the grounds
that i am defeated by all my pasts, those you've
yet to live. exculpable. we sleep with our backs.
the pine spine is empty. we don't talk about new
mattresses. the microwave burnt and you drink
away the replacement.

you tell me you were the asshole.
but what was it you were so angry about?
i try to make you leave by proclaiming eternity.
you look almost sure, eyes singing the frequency of warm
air over the ocean. hurricane season, approaching





*




i have five minutes to convince you before
the drive back to work. i dunno of what.
love is here. maybe we can live in it. love is here
but it's not enough. i'm a stone cold bitch
who told you so. breaking your heart is the only
way i'll ever fully understand the one
who broke me.







not that you'll ever read it.
i think you're at the bar.
i want to go there again but i won't.
i will go there and tell you off.
i will wait for a few minutes more
then i will go. i don'ot know what to do.
if you love someone, you're not sup[posed
to feel trapped. i feel trapped.
you feel trapped. we trap each other
in a tap tap tap. what's so odd about
the odd beer. we're finalists in the holdon
to your heart competition. where are you
why do you come back here?