Dazza from Derreenauliff

Curse the falling star.
Trash the smoking candle.
Spit on the loose eyelash.
Wishes waste away with you.

I’ll conquer this world.
While you take her over.
Our paths won’t cross again.
We made sure of it.

A sunrise over Kelly’s Cross.
We will never watch again.
A stream of Oysterbed farewells.
Too many years to count.

I should’ve kissed you goodbye.
My losses cut me now.
In another life it happened.
I packed all my bags and left.

I followed you to London.
And you came out to Cali.
I nagged you to your limits.
You took me for granted.

We were more than lovers.
More than intellectual equals.
Far beyond soul mates.
We were. Just were. Together.

Encounters with a Virgin

Those first ten months, he never let me in. 

His walls were so high; I had no idea what I was getting into until after I was fully immersed in it. I can see why he is so painstakingly reticent to divulge his vulnerabilities now. He never gives anyone a chance to see who he really is until after they are close. He gets close to people before he gets close to people. I get close to people without ever getting close to people. Both perfectly equal in their egotistical interests. The danger of his method is that by the time he opens up, there is already so much on the table; he avoids showing his cards until he is all in. He stands to lose much more than he can emotionally afford.

He spends more time missing his lovers than he does loving his lovers.

The Ol’ Switcharoo

He is a mental child.
I’m perturbed to the curb.

Manipulation sloppy at best.
Maintain the peripheral and stay in the herd.

Selfish and abrasive.
Grind my teeth and use a smile to disturb.

Inconsiderate and rude.
Continue to flex the fifty cent words.

Petty and insecure.
He’s vexed by the sex, and I’m calling him absurd.

Passively aggressive.
So damn pretty, but so fucking ugly, it hurts.

Okay okay, it’s entirely possible.
I shouldn’t have given his roommate my number, but sure.

Going Home

Teaching is every Christmas spent at the bar.
Learning is a gift I had to wrap for myself.
So this time around I had something to show.
Even more to hide.

My hand in his as we bolt for the door.
My eternal damnation dilating with each step.
My father’s promise of violence ensues.
Our pace accelerates.

He tightens our grip and pulls me after him.
Tuned out of the sound but it resonates now.
The pang of verbal abuse sinks unusually deep.
Elopement. There is no other romance.

I gasp in the cold air of a January night.
To shelter me from the reality as we make our dirty escape.
He puts his sturdy arm around my dithering existence.
I have no honor now.

We make our way down a dark country road.
This world is too big. This town is too small.
I will go to Cork. Then on to London from there.
Time begins now.

We seek refuge for the night to finite plans for the run.
We swim in the love we lost everything for.
Each touch is more shameless and sure than the last.
I have nothing but him.

The rays of sun peer in more unwelcome than ever.
His arm no longer protects from the sting of reality.
This was worth it. I’d do it over again for eternity.
But it’s time to go home.

Teaching is a beautiful child that was never adopted.
Learning is an ugly truth that cannot be abandoned.
So this time around I had something to show.
And even less to hide.

I didn’t kiss him goodbye like I’d see him that night.
I kissed him goodbye like I’d never see him again.
I meant every utterance and uttered every emotion.
I left nothing left to regret.

I took for granted the truth in his words as they mixed with mine.
Incidentally I killed a stranger when I brought a lover to life.
I am destined for nothing in the end but to turn into a pumpkin.
While he turns into nothing but a poem.

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Holiday Heartbreak

I’m a mess, you just don’t know it yet.
Fuck your basket, I break my own eggs.
I met a boy in Dublin.
But my heart is in Kerry.

I kissed him.
Like I’d see him later that night.
I should’ve kissed him.
Like I’d never see him again.

They said it would give me cancer.
I said it was better later than never.
I can’t live with him.
So I’ll have to die without him.

Today I awoke in the wrong arms.
Take me, I don’t want this.
Take me, I can’t have that.
Take me, because he won’t.

The Spoils Of Love

He slips his good hand down my bad soul.
I’ve faked it once.

He strums and teases my endearment.
I’ve suspected it before.

He plays with my conscience until I tremble.
Even feared it at times.

He seduces my pride and strips me bear.
Fantasized it often.

He slides deeply, penetrating my livelihood.
I know it now.

He moves slow to climax at my devotion.
But it’s too late.