Greasepaint (Memories)

Slinking back home

crawling into my bed

curled tight, finally alone.




Our eyes are red

as you scream

even though I tried to not make this a scene

I just wanted to be held

you wanted to be listened to

Our love, once of a seamless weld

pristine sculpture of the perfectly woo’d

in an instant, felled.




It’s been a month since our implosion.

I’ve a new paramour

and you’ve told Cupid, “Nevermore”.

I remember, that morning in May

when we were first together

Endless messages, speaking every day

thinking it would be forever

that our souls would be pressed in lavish ballet.

At night I dream of you

Dabbing on your greasepaint with a cloud-white sponge.

Lighting your oval face with a hasty grunge.

Even just once, I wish

I could have held that pyramidal cloud

sweeping paint across your nose with a swish.

You are always  in my heart

Countless days you made me smile.

Please, why must me part?

Little bear, return to me

Why can’t things be like they used to be?

When I was young and wild,

And you loved me like a darling child.

Now you won’t even look at me

Bitter as rotted black tea.

I reach out, and you ignore

Splattering my heart, animal gore.

Little bear, you taught me what love felt like.

That heat that burns like a pig iron spike

in the brain.

Come back to me, dearest friend-don’t let this line be cut.

Mine is the hand eternally outstretched–but

I fear yours is the hand that will never be held.

(You’re so cold without our love)


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