Tuesday, September 14, 2010


this year, you will not arrive
there will be no reading of the word "dearest"
no promise of a love always
you will not be returned
nor will you see the bottom of a trash can
or the darkness of a drawer
tucked deeply in a file marked
"personal correspondence"
you will not have the chance of being posted on a fridge
but then you never were
because it was just too much space to take
but now that's all you are
a space that continues to roll out
like a map
covering my body
disappearing me
tattooing me with your blood
shrouded in a blink
that won't open.
when he asks me what i want for my birthday
all i can think of is your stupid cards.

1 comment:

Carmen said...

tony!i love you. that's all i wanted to say.