Burn All The Maps To

A Friend Came Over To The House A Few Days Ago And Read One Of My Poems. He Came Back Today And Asked To Read The Same Poem Over Again. After He Finished Reading It, He Said, It Makes Me Want To Write Poetry.

I Didn't Know The Full Dimensions Of Forever, But I Knew It Was Longer Than Waiting For Christmas To Come.

I'll Tell You About It Because I Am Here And You Are Distant.

Like Some Kind Of Strange Vacuum Cleaner I Tried To Console Him. I Recited The Same Old Litanies That You Say To People When You Try To Help Their Broken Hearts, But Words Can't Help At All. It's Just The Sound Of Another Human Voice That Makes The Only Difference. There's Nothing You're Ever Going To Say That's Going To Make Anybody Happy When They're Feeling Shitty About Losing Somebody That They Love.

I Don't Know These People And They Aren't My Flowers.