My body aches in the waiting and
the night is torn apart;
fractured and shattered by
the memory of you.
Stars shake and die,
and I\'m filled with diesel loneliness,
soul sick, like a butterfly melting.
Everywhere I go,
I smell pumpkin pie, lilacs,
and sexual energy.
The day will come when
I\'ll not think of you;
not write a single line about
you--not feel you in the
attic of my mind;
but until then,
the crows peck at my
heart, spring never comes;
ice forms on my brain,
and life inches along like a filthy worm.