A July 4th

July fourth
Watching fireworks
Each one, a family
Each one, a memory
Every one a possibility
Only, not for me
The people behind those lights
I will never meet
The moments that they make
Will never require me to be complete
And I’ve been told so many times
Not to make so much of little things
But it strikes me in its tragedy
And the tears take off with failing wings.


I told myself that I was more together
But all this time I’ve just been damaged
And every time I pulled away
I claimed was so as not to end up bandaged,
Not realizing that only pain
Could be the reason that I sit here ravaged
By a fear that will not go away
Of the loneliness I’ve barely managed.

Recurring Regret

I’ve been dreaming of you again:
My bloodless sister, my long-lost friend.
We used to be as thick as thieves,
Until stealing away became my trend.

I’d caught anger and fallen ill;
And thinking quarantine was best,
I shut you out until you caught a chill
And decided to leave me to my rest.

But now I see you in my dreams
And in them, we are friends again;
But in waking up, I recall the years,
And I only want to sleep again.


I thought I knew my weaknesses…
Then, I met you.
You were interested, and charming;
And what am I but a lonely soul,
Full of longing, and so painfully naive?
I must have looked such easy prey,
Such a simple thing to use;
And I confess, I made it easier,
Leaving little clues.
But the funniest thing of all
Is that I broke up with you;
And not because you were using me…
But because I was using you.

Heart of Darkness

My heart is a jungle:
Overheated, overgrown;
A place only the bravest
Could ever make a home.
There are beasts that come to play
When the sun sets in the west:
Predators, bent to prove
Which one can hunt the best.

You thought you would find something here;
Oh, you poor fool!
You will find only
A lonely, angry soul.
But too late you’ll find the truth;
Too late you’ll try to run:
You will be reduced
To bones in the sun.

The Bored Vampire

In a vampire’s house in daylight
There comes up a cry:
“Close that curtain, woman!
Or do you wish for me to die?
That historian is coming here
To reveal to me his stash;
I’d hate for him to come here
And find me only ash!

Oh don’t give me that look.
Is this the garlic thing again?
You tried that 1870!
We’ve gone past 2010!
Show a little gratitude:
You’re immortal since that spell!
Why, if it weren’t for me
You’d still be that town’s belle!

Well really, you’d be dead…
Don’t you roll your eyes!
You mortals put such stock
In your sad and empty lives,
But did you ever stop to think
That you’re in this predicament
Because the attention that you got,
All the suitors and the sycophants?

If you had been a nobody
I’d have passed you by
But there was a certain irony
That caught my weary eye:
‘There’s the beauty of the mortal world,
Forever doomed to fade!
I’ll give it immortality
And let it be my maid.’

See, I have given you
More than what was given me:
A purpose, a reason —
Along with pleasant company;
So don’t you be complaining
That I’ve made your life a hell.
Ah! And there is our historian!
Pray go get the bell.”

Dear Mr. Death

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Dear Mr. Death,
Will you be coming here tonight?
Mama says she won’t stand for it,
But I don’t see a need to fight.
I’ve never had many visitors;
My only friends are family.
I think sometimes we feel like prisoners,
And with only one way to get free.
So, Mr. Death:
Will you be coming here?
I await your answer,
And hope this finds you near.