the soirée

it's soirée time boys-

don't forget your checkbooks and bring all the envy that money can buy.

i love to be your anything-

don't fuss over semantics-

only the devil cares about minutia;

anything but peace, but

i am nothing if not oriented for details.

because without those i would have nothing to fight for,

nothing to die for,

nothing killing me,

or that really drove me to be alive until i felt the first spark between us

when i said hello-

you never said goodbye so i know you must be here yet

and then, again, say nothing.

and i question everything, possibly, or i might've noticed none of it and left,

no space for middle ground between us anymore,

but still, it's something besides the nothingness of the words we share.

small talk in bigger and bigger ways.

pull the un-aimed triggers

when i'm at nerve's end.

backed, back to a cliff i thought was the pedestal you put me on.