I wish I knew

Something's hurting me,
And I can't quite put my finger on what it is.
Every time I cry,
You assume it's about you, when it's not.
I am afraid
To show my emotions because you're never genuinely
There for me.
I think I must pretend to be happy
When I'm not,
Because you cannot tolerate me otherwise.
I can't remember
The last time you asked me out,
The last time
You wanted to see me or talk to me
For conversation alone.

Something's missing, something's gravely wrong.
Please fix it.
It's evident you're forcing yourself,
You don't care
If we never meet, or if I cease existing,
I feel it
Deep inside, in the same place
The tears are.

Ever wonder why
I always keep saying I have something to say?
Well, I do,
But I'm so afraid of telling you
I love you
Because you think I'm trying to make you feel guilty
Or hurt you
But I just feel like saying it sometimes.
Do you remember how the wife in Last Kiss
Wanted to know
What it felt like to be looked at with love?
Even I do.
I want to know how it feels to be looked at,
Wanted, desired, loved
By you, the only man I've ever loved in my life.
You say it
So casually to me, as if my love is a figment
Of my imagination.
I wish I knew how it felt
To be loved
By you, and wanted by you,
To be yours.

Something

A quarter of a century.

A new set of glasses.
A different hairstyle.
A dying relative.
DAMN YOU.

How am I supposed to come up with something
When he lies there
With the life ebbing out of him?
It’s an important day to you,
But his life’s equally important to him
And today, my heart’s with him,
Not with you.

My anger’s not at you.
It’s at the way things are,
The unfairness of it all,
The lack of logic and sympathy.
But I’m seething, and you never ask
How I am, how he is, how we are.

Female Dirtbag

Her name is Noelle,

She’s ugly as hell,

And she bites her nails

And goes to fake sales;

She smells like a fish,

A putrid soap dish.

She’s a platinum blonde

Permanently stoned,

She clings like clear wrap,

Exposes her strap

And hides it all beneath

A floating, black sheath…

She orders a sandwich

Conceals her facial twitch

How does she eat it?

Oh, why can’t she beat it?

She laughs like a cow,

She cannot guess how

She’d be better off

If she’d stop strutting her stuff.

She wants some laughing gas,

Gives a whole new meaning to crass,

Pretends to be demure,

Faking it, that’s for sure…

Her lips are bee-stung,

Oh, why can’t she be hung?

That distant, faraway look

Gets her off the hook.

This mate is a check,

Oh, darn, what the heck,

She’s leading the way,

Stealing the light of day;

She’s probably singing to some

Unlucky shutter-bug back home.

That dreamy soft-focusing

Will get you thrown out the ring…

A face like a clock,

A body to shock,

A disco to shake some booty,

Believing that’s her duty.

Booking my place,

Spreading disgrace,

The blackness enveloping

A friendship developing;

Someone so benign

Compares her heart to mine,

She’s never the best,

She’s just like the rest.

Each day a new one,

Oh, go have your byte of fun,

But I was the very first

To quench your perpetual thirst;

You’re in love with me,

But you’ll never see

The other side I’ve got

Other than super-hot.

They’re all just illusions,

I’ve got no delusions,

My love is the best,

You should have guessed…

We’re together in my mind,

I’ve left these trifling wannabes behind,

It’s easy to see

You’re happiest with me;

More than all of them put together,

They’re all just rainy weather

All washed-out and desperate

Ain’t none of them got my spirit;

I’m so glad I have you

I’m the only one who’s true

Cuz when no one’s around you,

My love will astound you…

My 22nd Birthday on the Carton of a Rum 'n' Raisin Temptations!

Lavelle Road. Laughter.
Desmond's. Pictures.
A hot day. Looks.
Forgotten bikes. Directions.
Remembered chocolates.
Double-gifted chocolates.
Expensive movie.
Double scoops of ice-cream.
Ice tea. Blueberry cheesecake.
Ice hockey. Swings.
Victory. Defeat. Sweat.
A bag full of money.
Cap forgotten in bathroom.
Too-small popcorn.
Wannabe performances.
To be a kid again.
Forks. Spoons. Coffee?
One-liners. Two-wheelers.
One of the happiest
days of my life.