her hair in braids.
the way she talked to me,
with all her sayings.
shaking it out. shaking her hair out.
spilling over me, baby
you and
her and I
with the twisty tied lies. all of it didn't matter.
loved the way you said my name. the way you wouldn't say it.
how you still think it.
the way you flicked your ashes. stuck out your tongue.
how you didn't talk to much, or to little.
there are plenty more pretty girls.
sad faced
broken,
happy
to this summer
of discontent.
this is what I always say. .
but you are mine. that's everything. that was like
everything.
I wake up. it's quarter to three in the morning and she isn't next to me. I become shadow, when you tell me to let it go. words when you give me the lines. Everything is different. It's always different. the music, the writing, the weather, the price of gasoline, the diamond rings, the bottles drank, the night, the moon.
the hole. the void. the river of doubt.
denial.
It's easy, everyone can do it.
when it's right in front of me. when its in my grasp and my claws have sunk in. i taste it. I have tasted it. the trickle.
the drop of
every moment.
I'm not in for changing to much. but things change and you can't do much about it. the heart changes and I'm not sure if I can do this much longer. Or my Job. it's slow. everything is slow out there. in construction, which is what i do. it's feast or famine. when everything is on the line and it's on you. when there is nothing left there to be had. there is other stuff. things i can do. money is everywhere. hustle and jive and bullshit your way to it. I can do that. It's just you get used to certain things. certain someones and somethings. my dog isn't there anymore. he was a good friend. she used to be friendly too. when it's over lovers aren't your friends. and your friends. they aren't your friends. after that
there is me.
art: Brian Viveros
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