week two

it hurts
how dreary contests lie
sweet victory
what farce braves your coast this morn?
what say you?
to a half-lit room
& a cosmopolitan haze
(REJOICE)
we say -- then die
disturbed by half truths
& whole truths
that are no better --
what you've gained
will never fill the void
of what you've given up.
salty tears slide toward her all but silenced lips
as she watches hearts break
from the inside out & back again.
porch swings hang
in a loneliness i recognize all too well;
i am doubtful of my courage.
when walls
(& white picket fences)
we build
are somehow still not tall enough
to hold out hurt
its as if all we have left to do
is rest upon
our elbows.