written words   poems   love letters

only touch me when they’re not mine

words written by me

are tainted by lost control hands

alcohol induced police reports

memories that don’t happen the way I    remember

I only felt love once, on a curb next to a

homeless man, who knows disrespect

lost purse, whiskey splashed    and a gun in the front seat

because

I thought the book you gave me meant love

so I listened to what was never your words

what’s read was more than said

and I filled in the rest                 and

now I’ve seen a gun twice

but the shooting down the street 

seems far away 

when the lives of others are far away

and now I’m far away

and I burned the words    and the books

that someone far away           wrote for love     but 

we can still somehow  hate