Saturday, June 1, 2013

I Have Been Trying


I have been trying to write you a love song
for months, sitting at Starbucks
watching funny shapes passing,
and beautiful shapes, and sad shapes,
lying in bed watching the screen of my ceiling
playing erotic fantasies I am too tired
to be ashamed of, swimming in the harbor
wishing the sun was better baking my skin
darker, so I would seem thinner
and the men at the clubs I don’t even go to
would nod their heads. I have done a poor job.
I have been trying to write you a love song
with half a heart. I don’t know exactly what cut me
or where the other half has gone,
whether it all stayed together, sucking on a statue
or on stone to survive, or broke totally apart.
I have been writing from a white bed
in a painfully clean room, where angels come and go
looking like monsters, and medicine tastes venemous,
and it takes all my strength to remember your name
every once in a while.