i don’t cook much

anymore

i had my own kitchen

with you

the sun would rise

and push his fingers

through that rainbow curtain

i suppose

he’d only be happy

when he figured out where

we hid our eyes

the kittens would stretch

sprawl over the bed

and stomp over my pillow

to retrieve my conscious

after my first smoke

i’d wake you up

i knew you never ate breakfast

but

i always offered

i would get so full

and so satisfied

with instant coffee

to brush off

the constant jet lag

do you remember how

i used to get so excited

over the kitty faces

on my phone’s clock

and the numbers

would speak to me

i would stare at the stop lights

and

my favorite colors were

everywhere

i checked the time

it told me

your birthday

and

reminded me

-

i was younger

i hadn’t lost a thing

yet

i remembered

the little things

-

i had a way of finding

every little beautiful thing in the world

i sometimes envy

the one in the mirror

his life is simpler

having only the one

responsibility

of

looking good

and smiling back

and

while i stand staring

vain and proud

into my own eyes

i cannot picture

the one in the mirror

dealing

with my life

i cannot picture

the one in the mirror

being as much of me

as me, myself

it is 2 in the morning

and

it’s time to sleep

i have work in the early,

early morning

and i’m out of it

out of things

to keep me awake

becoming oriented to

the ways of this bed

cuddling with

the spins

and my thoughts

because

i’ve been drinking again

thinking of how

we should be drinking

together

and thinking of having more

than a job and friends

but

i fell asleep with a smile

hanging honestly

below my nostrils

-

this was the 5th night

in a row

and i’m shaking

i know

neither of us

will change

like signatures in concrete

or a broken cigarette that

trying to fix only makes worse

-

we

will always have

a deep trench

that swallows the faces

we cast aside

to save us

from a hectic life

it consumes

emotions too strong

and hearts too weak

only leaving what

i know i can bear

but

the trench cannot swallow scars

the trench cannot

it washes up as waves on a shore made of my bones

such a difference in temperature that

it leaves a trail of shivers for me to shovel into my mouth

i’d consume them until the bubble in my torso bursted

only to continue until all of those single shivers

had taken the detour through my system

-

and now we’re back

me, drunker than ever with a pack of smokes for all of us

i had to settle,

because the store we stopped at only had Marlboro

i couldn’t have given less of a shit

i was off my ass

sitting underneath the marked minimum for sobriety

the world was too real

and i was having too much fun