Everyone Has An Emptiness To Fill

Grown-up living often has no stage lights or lofty daydreams keeping us high.

so I sift through the shadows -- were his words real or lies?

i already gave him the light in my eyes.

maybe he's a little too hot and too high

or maybe he's cooler, i'm not seeing things right

his lips could be poems

would his hands make me cry?

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He sat with his beer and a faraway stare asking, why is she that way?

I thought of her angry cigarette smoke and powder-and-lipstick marbled beauty. She just does everything as hard as she can, I said. 

That's why I hate her, he said. It's why I love her too. Why do I love her?

Why do you like chocolate? I asked. Why do you like raging music with interludes like lullabies before the storm? You have to let her be. You love her rage. Let her rage.

He said, I can't.

Oil, I said, and water.

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