Hunched over his morning cereal as if it’ll be his only friend for the day.

His movements languorous,

his jaw earnest.

The only occupied swivel stool at the bar.

His companions cold creatures of turquoise plastic,

upright in their posture but unskilled in conversation.

Left to lap up his milk with only his dull, repetitive thoughts as entertainment,

not a single one able to drown out the monotony that pervades his humdrum life.

Abandoned by the hope that once reigned over his youth,

left with a bitter smell of exhausted ambition.


A day began like all others,

a day fated to dictate the rest.

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girl alone

The Storm

A thimble full of sorrow,

the wind forcing tears to leave meandering wet trails on her cheeks.

A pink nose under umbrella eyelashes,

full lips parted by an exhale of surrender.

The power of the wind peeling off her layers

laying her bare

thrusting its gusts against her exposed acceptance.

Strands of hair caught in her mouth, her nose, her eyes,

restless broken bits maniacally thrashing about her skull

looking to be tamed.

An opening of herself to peaceful submission.

The brutality of the storm,

its thundering pulse against her body,

countered by a recently discovered internal pool of unrippled tranquility.

A space sacred, untouched, impervious to the shrapnel of the outside world.


A thought supposed constant extinguished by time.

The wick black and no longer exposed to oxygen.

No longer able to breathe.

The coffin containing imaginings of what could be

reluctantly closed and buried.

A wooden edge still creeping out from beneath dark soil

hinting at hope

begging to be grasped.

A wail choked by years of useless turmoil

never to be answered.


You still occupy my thoughts.

As if even time can’t erase you from my mind.

As if your unforgettable words were tattooed onto my brain.

Your intoxicating scent bottled and spilled all over my wardrobe.

Your sweet kiss packaged into every packet of sugar.

I am spoiled with thoughts of you

but not with you,


A pitiable substitute,

I indulge in an extra cube of sugar,

another spritz of your cologne on my pillow.

I surrender to my nostalgia

and dream of a we that will never be.