a failure at being friends not lovers

the kiss was my victory party. a ring and a cake. a birthday and a wish.
i sent the letter with a bolt of lightning - with thunder, with a hurricane.
puddles left in my driveway remind me of the day i spent over your house. the day the power went out and everything got quiet. we laid on your bed staring at the ceiling holding each others hand. we had just fucked. we had just lied. we had said we wouldn't but we would do it all over again.
then, there was just breathing. and instead of being still I
told you secrets.

little things - said.
left unsaid.
the months and years of words piling up and
left unread.

maybe this once had a heart beat? and
maybe it's not worth thinking about.
the summer swallows us up.
the goodbyes hurt like hell.

photo:Hakumansfriend -flickr

Words fucked art and the baby they made was ugly

a pretty flower. a pretty face. pretty trash and drawings on walls. pretty words. pretty lies.
and nothing. just staring. just sunshine. just rain. just fangs. just blood.
just everything.
just nothing.

there is something about the redundancy in this art.
in our words. in the photographs.
all the moons
and stars and stuttered sighs.
in that kiss that left you breathless.
our familiar tastes.

all of us- the same.
all us...... seeking attention.love.avoidance.points.money.memories.stories.
all us strangers
and lovers and fighters and mother fuckers.

all of us caught up in the illusion of thought.

that voice inside my head. asking. wondering.

is this beautiful?