Mornings

it's always worse in the mornings,
after dreaming of the simple things
we used to do.
(but that are always getting taken for granted)
you showed me the nicer side.
you were concrete, you were my shade before this.
big, hairy lumberjacks with ugly $$$
i hear them coming closer and
it hurts like
being up 7 minutes too early for the alarm
set to wake you for work.
it hurts even more like
taking your pictures down

amanda,
i don't doubt that you loved me
but i do doubt that you couldn't have loved
anyone else just the same.

i get trashed by the ocean
by the forest
and tell them about your beauty,
but now your absence.
i scream drunk at the sea,
at the trees.
i make fires
and try to send smoke signals up, up, up to god
or whatever we talked about that feels more comfortable
than the life i'm living now.