tired of wasting my time

 

can't make anyone

love you,

can't make anyone care;

but sometimes i think

it would be nice if the universe

could just put the people

meant to be in my life there

so i didn't trip over the people

who weren't meant to be 

part of my life—

i've built such tall walls,

that i guess some don't want to

even try to scale all of 

them;

wish i could find people who

still had their hearts

not those who rib cages are empty—

i keep trying to speak my magic

to those who can see nothing

more than the mundane.

too many words

 

i get second hand

embarrassment 

as his words interrupt

my thoughts

every single second of the

days we work 

together,

he just wants so badly

to be included that he'll 

butt into conversations that

aren't his;

cigarette smoke blows

out from beneath his teeth

as he tries to give us all his cancer—

but he doesn't notice,

too busy spilling

himself

across pages that don't want

his narrative;

pages the writer would 

just go back and delete later—

he just keeps 

spewing himself into

our lives,

and i just want to flush 

his words down the toilet

where they belong.

water restores my soul

 

my 38th birthday

was probably

the birthday i felt

most loved,

got to have an experience;

rather than gifts—

and gifts are great so long as

they're thoughtful,

but i enjoyed my boat ride

with my family that night;

the sun shimmered and dazzled

upon the lake,

the crane flew wings stretched against the

lake—

nothing could dull the sparkle

of the day,

not even the music being

a little too loud;

the food was good and the company

was good—

i was out in the air the longest,

didn't want to miss a single

moment of the sunset in all of its glory;

water has always restored my soul—

it washes away all the worries

and pain of yesterday, 

it understands my rage and my wounds.