PB & J

I've never liked living off Peanut Butter snacks.
But it's funny how Jelly always seems to fill me up.
I hear how he speaks about you.
And I remember I used to say those things.
But I sounded more sincere.
Meant it more when you were here.
Wanted to fly you to the Moon
Or at least to the 2nd star on the right.
But lofty ambition and secret omissions
Sealed our Peter Pan Jar.
I'm a Smucker.
Jammed up over a condiment I felt was stickier more than sweet.
It may not mean much to you but what was a Jiffy in your eyes
Still sticks to the roof of my mouth.

I really never liked Peanut Butter situations.
But know he wouldn't crush a Grape in a fruit fight.
And I want to tear his crust off
Thinking about his spoon stirring you.
As the Jelly spreads over the surface that I used to eat from.
We've reached a Concord and I respect your relationship.
I don't even venture down that aisle called memory lane.
You've made it clear that in the matter of Love & War...
Well War can be so cold.

As my heart has frozen over
Only noticeable by the Crunchy sound of Chunky heels
Echoing off grocery store shelves
A Monkey wrench I want to throw or maybe a tantrum.
All to be as full as you made me.
So no the grass isn't greener on the other side
There is just Envy.
And in my fallout shelter no more Peanut Butter
Everything's...Empty.
So I sit and watch as all this Jelly tries to tempt me.

Irregular

He made me different.
Decided that normalcy would only make me complacent.
Unaware of how life makes miracles and murders.
He made me a water sign.
So that my journey would be heralded with crests and valleys
Give way by high and low tides.
Handicapped by the fluidity of emotions and stoicism of events.
He made me confused so that understanding would be a choice
So that the unappreciated nuances of the world would be examined closer.
Darkness brought to light.
He made me an insomniac to realize that in the hours of silence
A pen scratching the surface of sheets still sounds.
He made me a packaged collarless t-shirt
To be missed by handlers
Bundled up and sold to the world.
To climb off the store shelf into a basket; brought home
Only to find that their newest purchase needs to returned.
Retagged.
And labeled Irregular.

S.S.S.

Stood up I somberly sit
Seeking solace in shelled, shadowed souls called homo-sapiens.
Surely sober selections should birth smarter results.
I sulk.
Seeing that such solutions aren’t so easily solved.
This story sauced in alliteration sings of solitude.
Loneliness.
In search of sharing some time.
Seconds unseen by sun dials
Darkness unscathed by solar storms.
Except scenes of others smitten with Spring love.
Newness.
Stepping softly in silence slyly feigning innocence.
So cautious not to sully ones reputations.
Until suddenly Summer sets a sizzle smoldering screaming Sex.
Shawls and sweaters shed to solicit scantily sewn straps.
Stripping so you see the shape, size, each rise and fall as you sigh.
To smell the scent that sticky situations like this seep into sheets.
The sensation of stirring until your body hums
Swells with a song of Doe Ray Me Fa Soooo…
Slow rolls in silk or satin sounding sweet until
Smeared make-up shows scars.
Exposed.
Vulnerable, susceptible to sorrow, scared.
You say see you soon.
Avoiding shifty side glances.
Searching for shirts, sock, shoes.
Steeling away whatever split-second signs of serenity.
Separating feeling from adrenaline and serotonin.
Seconds turn Spring to September.
A cycle of see, salutations, sex, so long.
Smothering any sense of security in seeing your smile.
Suitcases sit by stairs.
Preparing to step through looking glass.
Lamenting at footprints left in the sand.
Surface deep you splash trying to save what has already succumbed to sickness.
Sputtering, sinking, I’ve already forgotten you.
Sand shifts. Footprints scatter.
Solids now broken.
Simply said this was not that serious.
Not a sonnet rising and falling with iambic pentameter.
A selective soliloquy sold with strands of sarcasm.
Shit. Our start and finish was synonymous.
Stop looking for single reasons.
Signs.
This ship has sailed.
No Dear John.

Sincerely
Signed
Staats