amusement park goodbyes

the sky was a beautiful blue,

the day we said goodbye

(we were on a rollercoaster).

i was watching you scream,

when i realized we were not the

same people anymore.


in spite of the fact

that you are right beside me,

i can’t help thinking

that this is the fateful ride

which will carry you

out of my life forever.


e. j.


a nostalgic phase

i set out on the cratered road

and watched it disappear beneath my feet.

and i thought of the old days,

the beautiful days;

when i was young,

and the moon hung itself in the clouds

just for me.

e. j.

parting shot

the last time i saw you,

your back was turned, and

you were looking at the ocean.


your yellow hair

was brighter than ever,

and i could see your skin

underneath your thin white shirt.


i was going to tell you that i loved you,

but i thought that it could wait,

because i didn’t know

that the last time i would see you

your back would be turned,

and you would be looking at the ocean.


e. j.


i like the way

your shadow falls

on the bathroom floor;

the only part of you

i have yet to discover.

maybe there is another world

where you and i have never met:

a world where the things that are real

are not so terribly sad.


e. j.

an elegy for flowers

the flowers you gave me are dead.

they died last night, while i was asleep;

they were alone, and probably cold.

no one told them it would be like this:

that they would wither into papery scrolls,

sad reminders of the garden that they could have been.

and when i carried them downstairs the next morning,

barefoot, and shivering in my pajamas,

and tossed them in the wastebasket,

i wondered why we only think of flowers

when someone is sad, or dying, or dead.


e. j.

in loving memory of all the things we never said

i loved you because you were beautiful;

i didn’t know that you had a soul,

or that you loved the smell of rain on a thursday morning.

i didn’t know that you wanted to travel,

and see aurora borealis in december.

i didn’t know that you liked to draw,

or that you hated your last name.

you never told me;

i never knew.


you never told me that you had a kid,

or that you were trying to stop smoking by june.

or that you never slept at night,

or that you had never loved anyone at all,

or that you were going to kill yourself that sunday afternoon,

or that you would miss me when you were gone.

you never told me;

and i never told you


that you had the sweetest smile i’d ever seen,

or that i liked the way you said my name.

or that you could call me if things got rough

(i was always busy anyway),

or that things would be okay (even if they wouldn’t),

or that i liked you, or that i loved you.

i never told you;

you never knew.


e. j.

head and heart

the worst kind of tears

are the ones where you don’t even know

what it is you’re crying about.


the worst kind of sadness

is the kind that hits you like a memory,

but you can’t remember why.


and the worst kind of happiness

is the kind that feels like a weight on your chest;

the kind you feel you don’t deserve at all.


e. j.