Blank Spaces

The space in me
that you filled up with your words and lies
is now empty

Your attention lavished upon
some other unsuspecting female
who you lick with your demon tongue
of wordsmithery

Tell me
does your wife know
all the games you play
and what fills your days and nights
when she’s not there to

The energy it takes to lie
is exhausting
and seems such a waste

Time much better spent
Figuring out how to love yourself
and live authentically
instead of in the house of mirrors you’ve created



I drink the wine
straight from the bottle
because there’s no need
for niceties anymore
No reason
to put on airs and pretend I’m sexy
So I don flannel pants and an oversized shirt
for comfort
Why do I allow you to take
all the good parts of me
when you go

It’s The Little Things

Coffee cups stained from daily use
and the passage of time
minute cracks of the porcelain surface allowing the
infiltration of the smoky dark liquid

So much meaningless discourse meaning everything,
shared while clutching these cups
now warming arthritic fingers, tangled by tasks and touches
and years which have slipped by, often without notice

How many more times
will we fill the cups before one morning
One shall remain empty

An Ode to 80’s Lust (I so would’ve done you in high school)

I see you looking at me out of the corner of your eye mullet man. 

Watch me light my Satin cigarette, being careful not to catch my meticulously coiffed mile high bangs on fire with the cheap Pump Mart lighter whose flame can’t be controlled. 

You should know I’m just like this cheap Pump Mart lighter because my flame can’t be controlled either.  I burn bright and hot. 

And I look hot too, in these pink and black checked Zena jeans with the black bandana tied around my wrist.

I know you noticed the bandana as I tipped up my Bartles & Jaymes wine cooler to take a sip. 

I can tell just by looking at you, in your glued on 501’s and Motley Crue t-shirt and high top tennis shoes, that if we get together our relationship would play out like a Bon Jovi ballad. 

Strut those tight pants over here

and kiss me with your Mickey’s Big Mouth breath before I change my mind

and take a walk on the preppy side with the guy in the polo with the popped collar.


I take a picture of myself
and stare at it

Trying to find the beauty
in my face

Trying to understand
what you see in me

Most days I find myself

On rare occasion
I think maybe
I’m quite beautiful

Today isn’t one of those
rare occasions

Today I can find nothing
even as redeeming as

Might I borrow your eyes
for a minute
so I may see myself
as you do

Might I borrow your heart
for a minute
so I can feel
how you love me
in my ordinariness

A Sense of You

My fingers wander over your skin
trying to imprint the feel of it to memory
. . .the scar on your shoulder
          the softness of your side
                 the dip of your hip

I close my eyes
inhale. . .
trying to commit your scent to memory

I press my ear to your chest
audibly . . .
recording the rhythm of your heartbeat

. . .senses to sustain me until we’re together again