Dark Poetry Prose Poetry April 4, 2005 Dark Poetic Prose

04-04-05 monday 10:24pm

your world or mine. who's to choose. the pitchfork or the rapier. how to decide.

i sit there on your doorstep and you just step over. the stones i throw don't break your windows. they richochet and hit me in the face.

i'm not qualified to be your friend. because i care too much. so what's left. what left then for us.

i lay back. watching the sky as it promises storms that never come true. i lay in the grass and stare at the clouds as they pass and wonder what clouds are looking down you.

it's just tonight. and tomorrow is threatening abandon. kneading time like dough. magically it expands. waiting on an oven that refuses to get warm enough.

counting the conversations in my mind as the pauses multiply.

it was just touch. i guess i wanted it to mean more.

it was just one too many nights looking at moons that never answer back. talking to clouds too distant to hear.

vagaries that once consumed, now motivate me not to care.

04-04-05 11pm monday

i heard you then. i hear you now. the wind with your voice on it. all those leaves as they bend.

i saw the summer change from light to dark. all i could do was stare at the sky and ask it why.

why the sun ever felt the need to shine upon if it would only leave. why daylight ever felt compelled to happen when in time it would abandon.

there's never a right time to give in and say, this is over. this is more them than it was ever us. there's never a good time to tell yourself that you've been wrong. but it has to happen. at some point.

since chances are you'll be wrong much more often.

i listened. took it all in. like a house on fire. i was consumed by it.

and ashes. all those ashes. i choked on them.