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My heart bleeds when I think of you,
and all the pain you've put me through.
Oh, all the things we never knew,
the hell, the tears that I've gone through.

Was it a lack of inspiration?
Were we just locked in fascination?
I've spent so much time contemplating,
which one of us was masquerading?

The years have passed,
and tears have fallen,
and we've said our good byes,
ever quiet and sullen.

So let this be my last farewell,
and unbind me from the lovers spell.
Once I prayed that you were mine,
but wishes grow cold with passing time.

Goodbye to you, my midnight lover.
The night is late, the masquerade over.
The sun now rises and dries my tears,
and a blessed dark angel..saves me..from my fears.

This is something I didn't write, but I thought it was interesting and fun to read. Sad, but true.


Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
And that was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there with one

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him and A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of it's new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyways
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
And a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen.

Dear, Dear Aphrodite

Dear, Dear Aphrodite
Holder of my dreams
Who would never demean
My heart that has been
So long crossed between
The waking of hope and love
You, oh goddess greater than
Any humane thought
Will not deceive me
By any means
Or let my soul whither
And fall so blessed
Beneath the clouds
I know you will vow
Not to crack my
Vanity's thick casing
And the beauty
I find in these fragmented words
Please, oh please tell me
You won't shatter
Thoughts of the naive
You birth twisted and inane
They wonder aimlessly
Beneath the dew drops of spring
That linger down your face
Tell me feeling more
Than just these meager faults
Of anguish and death
Will lead to any truth
In a vapid, artificial wonderland
Where muses dance
As graceful artisans
On rose petals and daffodils
So far fetched in their slumber
I wish to seek honesty
In some dimension of my youth
Where love will lie,
And I will freely stand
And for the past
No longer will I cry
For you

No title.


I was trying so tirelessly
to find the voice in
my reflection after my
deplorable, endless confessional
to you

It is the bitter revolt
in knowing late night
when I turn in beneath
these soiled sheets
trying to figure out
why my heart begs so deeply
so to have you near

It is the burning in me
that crawls under my skin
and makes me ache until
I'm dead again, for you

It is the destroying
of mass artifacts left
from brighter days
when I held meaning
in you

It Is the childish helplessness
that scurries into my
weak needless cries in which
you're too proud to answer

It's the rotting burden in
knowing I was so selfish to belittle
you when my prime intention was
to love and give unconditionally

It's the pathetic, futile attempts
to keep the nothingness that's
become us alive when it's already dead

It's the a thousand times
I'll be sorry
in knowing you'll
never love me again

but most of all
it's the realism
of a pinnicalized heart
that'll never mend

nice poems spence night

go ahead it was sent to me srry crying

Finale

This thing
So unsure in its performance
Bouncing off non-specific tangents
We couldn't play solo.

Because we had to depend
On each other
Because we ******** things up

But every out of place word
Half-spoken, half choked
Worked itself into a memory
A song...
A photo...
A poem...
A book.....