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I wrote I miss you in the recess of a muddy puddle

Letting the water dismantle my words, ever so quietly

No cracks to behold, or a sliver vacuity, just a blur..

Always a blur.


I sprayed I hate you in red ink all over the road

Something for the rubber to make noise on, since I never did

It mixed with grime until I couldn’t see anymore

And neither could the driver.


I wrote I love you in blood on a scribbled math page

Letting it fade, as all the passion had

The coal mine of our land, empty now

Depths to fall in.


I typed I give up in a font that you would despise

Giving my fingers room to move

As I kept my mouth shut, scared of being driven into words.


I scrawled that I don’t care anymore

Or that I don’t miss you anymore

Letting the remembrance of those our love had killed rock me to sleep.

I write like you- not like you.

And its all true, what I write, except maybe-

I don’t miss you-


But I miss you when I’m breathing.

Where are you going?

In Railway parade

There is a girl

Oh where are you going now?

Her fingers to busy, to quick for traps

She is writing the love of a the storm

Oh where are you going now?

She wants for you to stay

Like the simile for metaphors

An undecided thing

Oh where is she going now?

It’s almost Christmas Eve

Oh don’t follow; she knows the way well

Oh where are we going now?

No salvation on this Yuletide Eve, this Yuletide Eve

There is a present underneath the tree

The one that is from me

Where do we go now?

Where are we going?

I bought you my heart

But Jesus smashed it on the floor

And took my soul away, a verse at a time

Where will I go now?


You’ve gone where I can’t follow.