You Look Good on Paper

You look good on paper

An almost perfect match

The words chronicle this

Hero to my heroine

I devour the declarations

My eyes tired and scratchy

From straining to see your adoration

The ink has dried but I prefer

To imagine it flowing from the tip of your pen

As you press quite hard on the paper

Regaling me with your tales

Of  love

Your desire

This insane need

For me

My brow furrows in disconcertment

As the logical me

Realizes these utterances

Are nothing more

Than just that


I sigh and lift my eyes

To the night sky

As I dream of how good

You look on paper



My hands frighten me

Because they can feel

I discover with these

Dainty fingers

Touch things oh so lightly

And shiver at the thought

That perhaps

They will again

Dance across your skin

Notice the feeling

Of your stubble

Under their sensitive tips

Perhaps they will cradle

That beating betrayer

That pumps blood

Through your

Deceitful veins

I may die a little death

If I am allowed this pleasure

Although I am fairly certain

These hands

They will never know

How to hold you


Not You

The wind in my hair and

My forlorn hope

That these ghostly fingers

Can lick my cares away

This open cut

I know you aren’t here

But  I feel you

I try to forget

But the memory holds fast

Enduring want

This animosity for you

I loathe that I care

I shall drive faster

Hope for reprieve

And perhaps a chance

To again feel

For something

That is not you

Missing You

The smell of cigarettes

And atramentous rooms

Full of lonely souls

Reminds me of you

Your sly smile

The way you breathe me in

You hands on my skin

Your breath on my neck

Our lips touching

A languid escape

A taste of empyrean bliss

It intoxicates me how you

Desire this

Your abiding longing

Your intense need

For me

The Call

I long for the day

Of landlines

Not knowing if the call came

Apprehensive conjecture

About if you tried

To contact me across these miles

My absurd longing for you

I am damaged

Mangled beyond recognition

At the thought of your voice

Saying my name

And abolishing this contemptible

Compulsion to have but a morsel

Of your mendacious heart