Best St Augustine Poems

He's


sorry


for what he's done....


he's


apologetic, but the moon


she's crumbled in my palms and drenched


in my tears.


I rub my hands across my jeans and shoot stars across my ripped up, tarnished wardrobe


maybe he'll witness me before he closes his eyes


maybe he'll blind himself with tears...



I'm


kicking tomorrow off...

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In what good has it all come to
In my imaginary mind?
We roll through the wake of the water,
Goddammitting our way through.
Rising with our victories.
Cursing in our swift descents.
Buddhists are laughing on the shoreline.
I’m selling popcorn on the boat.
...

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