Tomorrow Came Too Soon

Two Poems I wrote inspired by my recent breakup with my girlfriend and one of the truly greatest girls in the world:

I'm experimenting with structure so they might not be that good.

The Final Countdown

T Minus Ten
Ten Dollars for that dinner I just bought you
Ten Minutes from Dewey’s to my House
Date of June that marked the beginning of the end

Nine
Nine months that I’ve had feelings for you
Nine times I’ve made you cry
Hour of night when the end’s in sight

Eight
Eight pieces of sushi on the plate
Eight Days to learn your favorite song
Roses that sit on your desk

Seven
Seven days left, more or less
Seven Hours to hike Pilot Mountain
Minutes taken to change a future

Six
Six photographs of us on my cell phone
Six poems of mine dedicated to you
Months that I will never forget

Five
Five sticky notes hang on my mirror frame
Five more minutes to last us all night
Fingers interlocking with mine

Four
Four songs that remind me of you
Four times you’ve given me faith
Forehead kisses to lighten the pain

Three
Three times we’ve shared everything
Three times you’ve helped me cry
Three words:
I want you
I miss you
I love you


Two
Two beautiful eyes, ears, hands, and lips
Two to tango, to salsa and swing
Two to laugh, to share, to love
Too late to get it all out
Too late to make it last longer
Too many times the wrong choice made

One
One person whom I love
One person who I’ll never forget
One night to make or break a relationship
One night to change the course of a life
One night to determine the future
The loneliest number that you’ll ever do

Zero
Zero hour has arrived
Zero days left to love
Zero days left to give
Zero days left to talk
Zero days left to show
Zero people to fill the hole

Blast-off
To our stars in the sky.





Here’s to the Wanderers

Here’s to the wanderers, the seekers of the light,
Who only lay with stars when they go to sleep at night.
Here’s to the businessmen, the sailors, and the like,
Military brats, their fathers who leave to fight.

Here’s to El Che, riding ceaselessly on his bike,
Here’s to Siddhartha, on his never-ending hike.
Curtains hide their souls, and on their mind’s door a lock,
Driven by need or waiting for fortune to strike.

Coming and going, without a haven or dock,
There’s little time to make friends, we live by the clock.
Transience we have become too accepting of,
And over our hearts there forms a thick shield of rock.

This self-defense system is hard to get rid of,
Keeps others out, care they think we’re devoid of.
This becomes a prison that one cannot let go of.
Something maybe meant to protect those that we love.