I Am Leftovers (5/17/06)

I am leftovers.

I am no longer a whole meal.
Dinner is over;
They saran-wrap me up
Or put me in Tupperware,
And let me sit
Alone, hiding
In the back of the refrigerator

until

All we singles come out
For Leftover Buffet
And try to make
Our disassembled selves
Into a whole meal again.

Just Sad (5/12/06)

I keep thinking of things to tell you,
But I can’t send them
Down that bond we had;
It’s so faded and fuzzy now—
Dry, cold, thin and weak.

You snapped it,
I cut it in response,
And we both watched it
Dissolve
In a rain of lies and anger.

And I wouldn’t —couldn’t— welcome you again,
But I can’t help but sigh.
We both lost here,
And I wonder how you’re doing,
If you remember me and us,
And if you, too,
Have your miserable moments.

Burnt Bridges (5/13/06)

You were always a pyromaniac,
But I never thought you’d take it
This far.

Across our short oak bridge,
I see you carrying a box of matches.
You light one,
And drop it onto the bridge between us.
I am stupefied, and so, so hurt—
More so when I see that it’s really cheap pine,
With oak veneer.

I scramble to find water,
But there is none,
So what we had crumbles
Into the abyss as ashy snowflakes,
And the fire spreads.
Our friends’ bridges to you
Are burning,
But you don’t even try to put it out.

You just watch,
And smile,
And show us all a new bridge
—short, shiny, expensive cherrywood—
a bridge to another girl.

I wish I had a flamethrower.

You’re Not Worth My Glances (5/11/06)

You turned and stabbed me
After kissing me goodbye
While she watched, giggling.

I gasped, shocked,
And slapped you with all my strength.
I readied my fists for a bloody fight-
I’ll give as good as I get.

But a trapdoor gave way beneath my feet,
And I fell,
Cursing you and her alike.

And when I stood up,
I brushed myself off,
spat for good measure,
And walked away.

And I did not look back.

Phantom Seppuku (5/10/06)

Striding alone,
But feeling halfway decent about life-
A welcome change.

But turn a corner, and
-bam-
it hits me.
There they go, drooling all over each other.
A ghostly hand sticks a serrated knife into my stomach
And twists.

I run as it starts to rain.
He knows it hurts me,
But he does it anyways
(is she that much better than me??)
and there’s nothing I can do about it.

So I run away,
But I can't leave my feelings
-or the knife-
Behind.

Gray (5/7/06)

Sitting on my bed, the window open,
Listening to music
That reminds me of
A tall, dark-haired youth.

Times like this, it seems so black-and-white.
The older presence fades from memory,
And I wonder at this new confusion.

But zoom in close enough, and even black and white become gray.
Did I love him? Did I?
I remember his heartbeat, brimming emotion,
And never wanting to leave.

But he left with a pale witch
As I stood in the dark with a torch.
Lies, lies, lies- give me a flashlight!

Enter that tall acquaintance with black hair,
Heralded by confusion.
I’d like to say, “I know what he’s doing,”
To say, “He’s doing it for me,”
But I’m back to the state of not knowing at all.
I can’t even trust myself right now;
My motives are too superficial.

I guess Life is never in black and white,
That there’s always a gray area;
The twilight of emotions.

Ça c’est la fin (that’s the end) (5/6/06)

Disbelief and shock-
No, no, no, that’s not true,
This sour flower isn’t unfolding
In my front yard!
But it is.

Burning with sheer rage-
Not simple anger,
But shaking
With the complete desire to maim or kill.

Her simpering smiles,
Kittenlike protests of innocence.
His lies, false as a mask-
Green nausea burns in my stomach.
I can’t eat. I can’t sleep.

Helplessness,
As his tide goes out to sea without me.
Time, a drug, flashes in and out on a high.
Actions are unstoppable,
And my claustrophobia kicks in.
I want it to stop, but there’s no time,
No time.

And throughout it all,
A sewer-undercurrent
Of undiluted pain,
The pain of betrayal.

Crash and try not to implode.
Let me extrovert this once, please.
Lash out, lash in,
Take one last, long look.

Exhale.

And then I am
Through the fire –la flamme-
Over the hill,
And into the foggy land of coping.

Lone Geographer (5/4/06)

It’s sad, almost.
I’m back on the map,
Back in charted territory;
That menstrual-like cycle of hope and disappointment.

I was forging ahead,
Writing the geography book of life and love,
Until I fell off the edge of the world,
Meeting sea demons and serpents I hadn’t thought existed.

I wanted you to care,
To help me up over the cliff,
But who was I to say where the world ended?
And if you’re no longer willing
To draw this map with me-
Ink in parchment-
Well, it’s your lost opportunity.
I’ll find someone else.

Dealing (4/29/06)

I got home and resolutely,
Viciously,
Defiantly,
Turned up the volume.
I dealt.

And now I’m ready to talk to you again,
At least this once.
After, maybe never again,
But who knows?

Thy will be done…
As we forgive those who trespass against us…

Lies are lies,
What’s done is done.
There is nothing to look to
But the future.

Earth Day (4/29/06)

Still reeling from your blow,
I want to sleep but can’t.

Re-reading my words of happier times,
I want to smile but don’t.

Crushed, shattered, exploded,
Whatever you call it,
It’s still gone.

It flew off the handle and hit the fan,
And the world held its breath,
Shocked into silence
Followed by outrage.

Is there anything worth salvaging?
Should I recycle my emotions
For a greener me?
Am I just a compost heap after all?