Late

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Every road ends at you, ends at him, ends at you and her,

not me and him.

You and her, if that’s it I’ll do nothing.

Red covers throats, covers wrists, it’s going to cover your grave before long.

Seeping over, covering the white roses you never bought me

If it had been anyone, it would have been you.

Except you were busy, or leaving, sometimes not thinking.

Arms holding me up, hands laying me down;

you taught me.

and then you ended me.

and it would have been fine.

if you had showed up.

“Should Have Known Better”

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I should have known better, hating you, writing love letters.

I’m reduced to ashes, steam barely moves from my mouth.

Winter has frozen me over, and I’m loathe to let myself out.

The apartment is barren, and I’ve lost you.

I’ve lost the heat, I’ve lost the life, if I don’t move I’ll surely die.

I understand it, though, the dead pride that burns in lost thoughts.

The dead hope that burns in lost lives.

I could be a lost life, and you wouldn’t care. You picked me up twice,

my body laid bare.

My feet dragged on the shore, the camp was ahead of us.

You were a poet, you weren’t here for survival. You were here for charm,

what a shame you were dead wrong.

I was here because I had nowhere else to be, I had no one else to be.

When the wire got tight, when the wire got thin

you left me behind and said, “Go ask him.”

The Love that Lost A Thousand Ships

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In my spare time, I sank ships. 

In the years before me, there had been no ocean.

My broken heart was the cure for this.

I cried them into existence, left pieces of myself in the droplets.

The waves were my anger, the breezes my sorrow.

The storms were my passion.

And my passion had been great. Wild. Deep.

Even the residue of it, dissolved in the tears that I had wept, 

was strong enough to overpower the ships that dared cross me.

I smashed hulls, snapped masts in two, snapped Men in two.

My lover never dared breach the waves

for fear of me.

And that was my revenge.