Learning to Be Alone.
Please,
let me be the pages of a book
you finger through
at the end of a long hard day
when you lay on your bed
nursing a cup of sweet tea.

I’ll take your wrong and make it right,
I’ll take your load and make it light,
Dry your eyes and you can bet,
Any hurt that you remember gonna help you forget,
Make you numb to the pain,
Hey, I’ll be your Novocaine.

- Lady Antebellum.

Kitchen Poetry # 11.
Crashing like a wave
tears resting upon your lips
they fall into me.

Leaning towards Love.
Don’t say a word
come sit by the cool side of the bed
smoothe the velvet of your dress
and fix you into something you’re not
an illusion that has been bought
a reminiscense of this past
which is nothing
sober promises and wasted regrets
nothing but an idle landscape
to be revered
alone above an empty mantlepiece
irreplacable
unforgettable
unattainable.

Kitchen Poetry # 10.
I wanna be
your enraged sense of rejection
the one to lick the flames
of your hot Southern mess.