GHOSTS
Nights like these
are the ones I hate the most—
too many thoughts crowding my head,
no writer’s remorse.
Do you want to join my ghosts?
We can sit with the past,
stay up all night
laughing at the echoes we had.
Should I think about you,
or maybe I should think about her—
or the girl I met that one summer
who still drifts through my mind
like a fun loving memory you think of sometimes?
Eventually, I’ll fall asleep.
The noise will soften.
The ghosts will quiet down.
But until then,
I’m glad we crossed paths—
even if only long enough
to haunt my mind.
DATES
Will you go out with me—
just one date?
Take the stake.
You don’t have much to lose,
maybe a buck or two.
I can wine and dine.
You can act interested.
We’ll call it a good time,
laugh in the right places,
split the check or the silence.
Then we’ll end with a goodbye,
clean and polite,
and never talk again—
another almost
added to the list.
Curdled Milk
Words are just a thing.
A moment to express something without really wanting to express something
A blabber
A blurb
Something just to let out words.
A moment to get in touch with thy self
A moment to maybe preserve.
A thought
A moment
Something I honestly can’t stop controlling.
Curdled milk.
One day I hope it comes out real sweet.
Not stuck in the twilight zone
Were everything is stuck on repeat.