[ WP ] Write your heart onto your sleeve , Reddit .

That lost sort of longing lingers as snow falls and malingers 
 Through awnings and hauntings, buildings that flicker and fall 
 As the gray skies send messages of TV static collected by wet pavement 
 Passersby perturbed by friendly kisses on the tips of their noses 
 Letting them know something is here or nothing at all 
 Routine becomes pattern becomes routine again 
 And all that is left is the crunch of melting wishes 
 Each flake another flutter of forgiveness 
 
 Coats cover colored arms, a different tattoo for each layer of self 
 A Vonnegut print left hallowed in a closet, a voice on the phone left speaking 
 Slapstick or Lonely No More! She swears like love is a gun to the head 
 Car left running to keep the artificial warmth of combustion and sweaters 
 Stuffed in the backseat like artifacts of nights that never were 
 A ruffled purple vest, pull-over a milky shade of orange 
 Sleeves cover the reasons I keep myself alive. 
 Wishes on my left, forgiveness on my right 
 
 And yes, you are sweet; so very, very sweet 
 To be the compassion the compassionate seek. 
 
 Bottomless baritone crooning about nymphomaniac-charged agape 
 Soothsaying something in quatrain and soliloquy 
 Writing love letters to dead essayists in a white-paneled condemnation 
 Fertility goddesses with hips like the moon made of clay and placed- 
 Perfectly on a mantle made of stolen books and bad intentions 
 Curtained windows, curdled milk, collections of empty cases of DVDs 
 Strewn about dirty floors like good medicine and cheap weed 
 She never paid for anything, but the bills never ceased 
 
 He writes about the city on fire, Ferguson flipping fiery Fords 
 Finding God in a taken TV, left turned on somewhere with a sidewalk 
 Broadcasting the irony of right place, right time, right now 
 Scapegoats scramble from talking head to head, each a sacred cow 
 Held to higher regard than footwork and FOIA 
 Smiling faces smear the “ Great Satan ” sagas 
 Of oppressed minorities and a sudden lack of comfort 
 This holiday season of “ let it burn, let God sort ”. 
 
 And yes you are nice; so very, very nice 
 To feed and restrain my ravenous vice 
 
 The curve of her body like the curve of the Earth 
 Nothing lacks luster quite like a virgin birth. 
 He calls to remind me exciting is not the right word 
 To describe what the faceless faces watch like a sport 
 Digital copies of her pale blues eyes reflect poise and position 
 Bent, broken, better than the last few years searching 
 For someone straight, mended, and left behind wondering 
 What the silky black fabric left waiting underneath 
 
 Is that cigarette smoke or an exalted exhalation? 
 Breath on the window creates a canvas of expelled vapors 
 Drawing, tracing fingers through the notches in your spine 
 And elsewhere, following the curves of cloudy foundations 
 Until the colors flow to nothing and the nothing writhes in undulation 
 Passion persuades the ribbons of time and space 
 Left breathing alone and full of mistakes 
 A moment could decide and a moment could erase. 
 
 And yes you are praised; so very, very praised 
 To shed some light on what darkness raised 
 
 For I have heard their bright eyes singing each to each 
 I do not think they shall sing to me. 
 In this town, we all come and go 
 Chasing dreams and giving up at “ no ” 
 
 And yes you are loved; so very, very loved 
 To be my iron fist in this velvet glove 
 
 The sunset smiles like saffron through a blanket of clouds 
 Full of snow, swirls, and stupid serendipity 
 Cars drive by, steer, swerve, skid, and repeat 
 Like a view from the office window of brick shops and glass lights 
 Becoming orbs under a blanket of freshly fallen snow 
 A mix of yellow with orange and pink, sickly and abrupt 
 Never noticed except a faint glow 
 That distorts the color of her digital face. 
 
 For I have heard their whispers passing each to each 
 I do not think they were meant for me 
 
 And yes you are sweet; so very, very sweet 
 To be the compassion the compassionate seek 
 
 I had to be another little ampersand separated from dialogue- 
 By ellipses, parenthesis, brackets, dashes, slashes, and hyphens 
 Permanent marks in sketchbook pages that erasers couldn ’ t vanquish 
 A photograph of vacations she can barely remember 
 Because she has more in common with me now than herself in ten years 
 I ’ m a locked away love letter that she never received 
 Making imprints in the growing blanket of powdery snow 
 Covered by future flakes that keep falling 
 
 For I have lingered in the closet of my own self doubt 
 Wreathed by drifters with pendants rusty and brown 
 Until human voices wake me and I drown. 

