leaves are rustling with your hair when you look through the window, vines curl up your back telling you stories of dissipating days and dreams,

you wait for him to say
to say

           you wait

           for things
           not to happen

for a kiss that leads to no more
for hands to let go
for words to not be said
for teardrops to fall from the brink of her nose
for the night to end
for boredom and sleep
for every failure to rest and sink in

          and never be forgotten

you wait for them to stay
to stay.

first draft of this poem had been recited here


what did we leave behind but silence

of happiness

why were the books lying face down why were cigarette dusts piling up between the flower pots why were the bus seats so warm why
nobody will ever

breathe into my mouth i’ll break
                     into millions of whispers

and we’ll be gone before the first teardrop hits the ground