Better

She almost
ran to
him, pathetically,
whole-heartedly, earnestly,
to tell
him she
loved him,
mustering the
words,  I’m
going to
miss you,
its been
hard trying
to get
over you—
and there
was no
emotion behind
his shell.
He seemed
almost amused
by this
vulnerable outburst--
all the
while cocking
his head
to the
side in
saddened bemusement.
She missed
the tiny
crack within
the fortress
he always
had around
him and
she  missed
it— Missed
that one
singular moment
where he
could have
been hers
and now
she’ll never
get it
back—though
deserving of
unconditional love
he has
risen above
it and
pushed her
away, so
now she
must figure
out how
to daydream
about a
life  infinitely
better than
it would
be if
he were
in it.

People I Haven't Seen

People I haven’t seen

in a while

ask me

what I’ve been up to,

innocently enough.

My reply of

Working, mostly—

attached with a smile

which doesn’t reach my eyes,

actually makes me

take a shallower breath

as I speak the words.

I ask those

same people

what has been going on

in their own lives

to take the attention

off myself.

I’ve lost myself

lately

in a sort of

numbing autopilot

sort of way,

thinking of work

and making money—

for things I do not need,

things to fill my thoughts

so I don’t focus on

squandered potential

and the second love

of my life which has disintegrated.

And when I’m

alone, drowning out

any actual life contemplation

with baking, chopping,

red wine and the blues

I don’t know who the girl

is in the kitchen

in the poppy-patterened

coral-colored apron.

But I know

that shiny

mirror-like knife

she’s wielding,

which she bought

for such a great deal,

is just another form of

a looking glass she

can’t bear to come

to terms with.