Aimee Kiefer Poems

I am not a religious woman,
but given half the chance,
I would call in sick every Sunday
to worship at the temple of your body.
...

It will be painful for a while,
it is going to eat away at you.
Of course it will sting a bit
as all disinfectant stings.
...

I hope that you're alright.

I hope that you've quit smoking,
and managed to slow your drinking.
...

Sometimes, I get lost in
the cacophony of insults
and expletives we hurl at each other,
and forget why we are even fighting,
...

I like you a whole lot.
It sounds childish, but it's true.
I am sure there are more beautiful ways
to say that, but sometimes, certain things
...

I will miss you as the days between talking give way to months,
as the inches between us slip into miles,
as the state lines separating us grow in number,
as the memory of your face starts to fade,
...

The whole world is burning,
and the smoke smells like
hypodermic needles and
dead children.
...

I have been searching for a fault line,
some great divide where we could
hide all of our guilt, so that when
our friends ask what went wrong,
...

It's all empty,
the whiskey glass,
my bed sheets,
the 'I love you's,
...

Today, I brought home your ashes.
I held you in my arms and begged for alchemy,
but tears and ashes do not mix to form you.
...