It’s been two weeks
since I buried your heart
and now
I can’t be buried by anything.
The minute her hand begins
to comb the back of my skull
I know I’ve got her
below the skin, an angler
looking at a bleeding catch
before tossing it in.
It was only to get rid of you,
ghost disrupting my peace
and I’m starting to think
I may have loved you.
This frigid month, the district’s neon signs
I can still picture you underneath
while the tavern’s guts howl
and the skinny street is nothing more
than me and you
me and you
me and
I must be the only one
with lost in my eyes
and here they are screening a memory
onto the rain-spotted glass
of someone else’s car
while she shows affection
and I grow sick of the medicine.

– Oakland, CA

Taken in Oakland, CA

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s