I probably should stop posting my new stuff on here

before I actually perform it in public. Does anyone actually read this thing anyway? Should I be concerned?

"3am"

The last time I heard
“I love you”
like you meant it
I was 16 and you were driving away
Kicking up dust that would choke
On back country dirt roads
Sad excuses compared to city pavement
Lined not by buildings or cars or streetlamps
But by trees heavy with the snow and bent
Bent over like old ladies,
devoid of life, weeping.

The last time I heard
“I love you”
like you meant it
I locked myself in a linen closet
And cried into pillows with yellow daisies
Scented with lavendar and cedar wood
Drowning in cloth and teeth and tears
So no one could hear me
Hoping to silence myself
Between sheets and fabric
Just like you always did.

The last time I heard
“I love you”
like you meant it
It was followed by a hollow dial tone
And an empty gaze at the girl behind me
Or was it a mirror?
I can’t ever remember.

The last time I heard
“I love you”
like you meant it
you were lying on your side in my jeep
staring out the window at the passing cars
and lights and houses and people
As I drove you to the hospital
But those who see what you saw
Never speak of it afterwards
And you grabbed my hand suddenly
With a human whisper
Confessed your sins.


The last time I heard
“I love you”
like you ment it
You didn’t have to say it at all
But looked at the snowdrifts
With piercing fear and doubt
The kind of existential anguish
And lonesome solitude
That keeps you from sleeping
And slips you into a cold glove of panic
At 3 in the morning.
When you suddenly realize
That all you ever wanted
Was to be alone.