it always rains on tuesdays
you grabbed a cigarette,
staring at the burning embers,
not sure if you'd ever quit
not even for her
you stomped on the last one,
picked up your guitar
and automatically played out
a song from your setlist
life is hard as you pour out
your heart in front of the crowd
not sure if she'd even listen
tickets and signatures
just for a couple of bucks
'kids to feed, bills to pay'
that had been your mantra
for a long time now
but there was a time
when it had been different
rewind the clock
rekindle the flame
'this is a song about the best day of my life'
you belted out the lyrics,
almost choking out the words--
throat constricting from too much emotion
it was never about the money
it was all about love
but guys made fun of her
considered her a slut
you thought differently
she's the one, you murmured
innocent brown eyes
someone who needed saving
someone who needed you
she wrote poetry
you memorized each word
one day, you passed out
hit rock bottom, drunk,
it was way better than waiting
her soul was pure
though her lips
told a different story
a different guy's kisses
marked a complex territory
and as you finished singing the song,
you envisioned her in your arms
you already bought a ring
and she was warm,
felt like a summer daydream
but it always rained on tuesdays
and the last time you saw her
she was already someone else's angel
undress my heart
i clumsily laid here beside
your vagabond ghost,
clearly visible in the
makeshift moonlight
illuminated by an
angel's halo at
nightfall as the
darkening clouds
rewrote vignettes
with the frostbitten words
your cold banshee lips
surrounded me in
my waking reverie
and as the east monsoon
howled your name
that tasted forbidden
inside my temptress mouth,
i couldn't see past
the katana skin
that you filled
within my veins
as you undressed
my heart,
slowly, hesitantly,
like it was a teenage
overmedicated romance
but we were too old for this.
Labels: poetry
c
we once sat at the parking lot of a hospital,
praying for hearts not to flat-line.
there, you used to tell me stories about angels.
how, maybe, icarus didn't burn.
how jesus didn't die.
how your sister just lost her breath
and became one with the sea.
how her ashes shone brighter than the sun.
how babies were born from serenades.
your kiss felt like the sweet edge of winter
but you wore rain like a cologne
and as the dawn snuffed out
the stars like candles,
i watched you drive away.
Labels: poetry
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