Birthdays

I am now a year older as of April 14th. A year for every hour in a day, a year for every beer in a case.

If I really wanted to, I could've enjoyed a beer once an hour, all day long on the 14th and celebrated my 24 years but instead I ate cake, ice cream cake, and received my new 27" TV.

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Smack

"You have a nice smack" is apparently suppose to be a pick up line.

It doesn't work.

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Infected

Sinus infections are NOT cool but the time off work is. So is the quickly thrown together paper card from my friends from work all sending their love and cut out carnations.

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Scars

In the deep recesses of my mind lies an odd respect for scars.

Marks of war, childhood mishaps, domestic arguements. The release of pain through damaged tissue.

Constant reminders of times undone.

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Bruises

Week old bruises whisper, half as loud as the day they were born.

Silent in color,
Still bright in pain.

Heavy objects pushed, pulled, dragged, held high.
Too much for weak muscles and thin skin.

***

Blunt

No sneakers, just flip flops, even in December.

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Deprived

The alarm sounds on a cold Spring morning making it difficult to remove from under warm sheets, creep barefoot across the shrill linoleum.

Sleep doesn't come easy.
I feel its absence when the sun itself awakes from its own slumber. It trickles over glass skies, a rainbow of hearts in a less than mediocre life.

***

Wishful

Only in faded, unreachable dreams do you and I exist but

I'd rather dream and have you than not have you at all.