Ode to You

I bet

you have been checking

this blog every day 

to see when I would 

finally

write about you. 

Well

here it is. 

I hope this poem

never gets famous.

I hope this poem 

is awful.

There's nothing concrete

here. There never was.  

I Admit It

I'll admit it:

sometimes I cry. 

Aren't you supposed to

let the faucet run

while the garbage disposal

is on? I think

I am good at dropping 

emotion down the drain. 

But I'll admit it:

sometimes it's all of me

spinning into many pieces;

Some things are just 

disposable. 

Going

You have become 

an overgrown lawn

and I have never 

been one to maintain

large yards and gardens

at homes,

places that more than

just                       me

fit into.