Package
I sent you a package
It is neither pertinent
Nor urgent
I don’t know if you’ll like it
But I sent it
For you
So shouldn’t that count?
I sent you a package
And the postage covered
The cost and
Your name
But I promise I wrote it
So shouldn’t that count?
I sent you a package
With a disconnected, corresponding
Note
After three drafts
An unstudied
Unimportant sentence and my
Summer address
Resistance
Such a blank white canvas is
Intimidating
Though it never was before
I have resisted it
And you
Imperiously
Meekly
But now I shall concede.
Stagnation
If I were yours and you were mine
And never we were to doubt
Where would that leave us,
my love,
but doubtlessly,
apart?
I recognize this pattern:
The emails, the phone call
The internet stalking.
I recognize this pattern
The need for some,
Any
Interaction, recognition, reaction,
Justice.
Recorded for Sincerity
I know what your apology says:
I’m sorry I wasn’t what you wanted
I’m sorry I couldn’t convince you to stay with me
I’m sorry that you were unhappy
I’m sorry that I snapped at you
And I wish I hadn’t said I never wanted to speak to you again
Because in reality I do
Every day
The way we used to talk
But not now
With the prospect of your misdeeds looming overhead.
Oh yes, I know what your apology says,
And I know that it doesn’t compare
With the apology I owe you.
Writer’s Block
Desire I can write of
Fury just the same
But Love
Love
My pen tarnishes thy name
Ink Heart
The ink heart on my hand bleeds
And I want it to bleed
Into you
To Impress you
Imprint you
Meld you
Mine
With a single
Spasmodic squeeze
The ink heart on my hand bleeds
Like I will
If you leave.

The Sticking Point
You can’t just forget
Love
And I loved you
I’ll never be over it
I’ll just want to be
I’ll never be over it
But I’ll never be over him
And that, my dear,
Is the sticking point.
‘Twixt You and I
‘Twixt you and I,
nothing should ever intercede -
not conspiring mothers,
not pernicious lovers,
not distance,
not time,
not cloth.
‘Twixt you and I,
nothing should ever intervene.
Oh, My Love, This Lust
Oh, my love
This lust
Is not well-intentioned
Not innocent
Not sweet
Oh, my love
This lust
Demands satiation
Immediate and
Indiscreet.