some days the only thing I need more

than loving you, is finding ways to love

myself. and though the pen of my soul

hasn't touched the paper of your heart

and the silence between us grow

like sunset shadows,

I haven't stopped thinking about you

since the day we met -

these days my words dry up before

I open my eyes and dreams fade

like our last goodbye. some days

loving you is enough, some days I worry

that I haven't changed and still go around

messing things up… darling, hold this piece

of universe -built in my chest - wrapped

in your hands. keep this part of me safe

so that I can shatter and rebuild

until I am whole

 Saturday night

seated the room cold

crumbling paper mache

flakes flutter to the floor

cast tiny shadows on linoleum

deconstructing memories with music

one bare bulb swinging rhythmically

a face with no features reflected

in a window painted black by the night

watches the methodical work

sees the determination fading

like the taste of whiskey in the mind

some things never leave

even when they're reduced to scrap

the masks fall apart

but the face grows no clearer

still

it must continue

digging deeper

trying to believe

there was something important

worth finding

once...