poetry Short Stories Uncategorized

sinatra is singing

sinatra is singing
close to you
and you are every bit his smile

as i blush
into my china blue
tea cup

reading 6 am texts

still wearing last night’s dreams of your honey and plum lips

these good morning baby professions
of the warmest affection

pictures of the sun sent rising in your sky

and you in your early morning bathroom mirror

red basquiat t shirt beautiful

before shaving and the neck tie

spoken words spoken slurred

raw i miss yous

we are
separated by the continental divide
and a thousand exit signs

calling each other from
hotel rooms which have never felt
so empty

noticing the days hold no fascination
the world becomes an empty doorway
when i cannot walk to the next room and touch you

i hate riding elevators without you

he says

i wake up reaching for the last time i saw you next to me in bed

he says


this is
makes me want to be a better man love

this is i have to get my shit together love

this is stop drinking and start running love

this is fall asleep with the cell phone open on the pillow listening to you sleep love

this is i love you so much it scares me love

this is everything i do now defines our shared future love

prepared for every eventuality but each other love

you can’t possibly be real
but this is real


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