I walk backwards, counting from nine to ten

remembering from the time when your touch was unfeigned and I didn't have to pretend.

I walk backwards, sand shifting through an hourglass

people stop and wish to talk. When I move my lips to speak, they're always going too fast.

Silence was your protocol

paired with a charmed smile

now that I can only sit and recall.

Now I've done research, scientific analysis

my paralyzed mind is not used to this.

You were walking across the room in a glimmering blue-

everyone fighting like dogs to be nearly close to you.

I've played out the scenes to various scores,

not sure why it was mine you knocked on out of all the doors.

Silenced and crossed legs.

"Forgive me, I've made some mistakes."

Dear, didn't we all? Whose arms were under you when you were about to fall?

Why did you have to take my breath away? Oh, hey, come on

a heathen has a chance in hell. I may be Alice, hallucinating daisies before I fell

but I guess I deserve a chance as well-

Why couldn't you have punched me in the stomach, instead?

Taken a gun and held it sweetly to the back of my head?

For survival, I'd call it even. I was weak and you left me reeling.

Most heartbroken men are torch singers

for a reason. They are singing to strangers

in the darkness of bars over the yearning melodies of resigned guitars.

Promising, with the help of words borrowed right off Cole Porter's shelf, that it all gets better and one day yes one beautiful day we'll all sit in sweet Everly Brothers harmonies togethers. I forgot my reasons; my lines cast adrift. I would sing so, yes, but I can't carry a tune worth shit.

The rest are bloodshot scientists and fixing poet's beat-up cars.

Silence again! Dreaded Venusian shape- will you say something?! Anything?

Oh! but nothing (sweet nothing.)

You were dressed in glimmering blue but the glimmer was sure to fade

and that it did, fairly fast. Wasn't worth the small fortune you paid.

Turned to navy and then resigned to the black of our night. You weren't virginal enough for white.

It was in the sincerest light of day that you walked away.

Forever and ever more. Told me off, called me high-falutin, wishy-washy and a miserable bore.

I had prepared a speech that I never got to say.

Do I need index cards? No, I've got it memorized by the lining of my heart:

"And when I'm closing my eyes before

cowardly bowing to the need of sleeping, against the pale stupor drowned out by the ceiling

it's a faint silhouette of you I'm quite used to seeing."

It was never nothing less and it will never anything more.


note I was attempting (weakly) to channel stephen merritt.