Three poems by Chris Goodman

Love, Obsession and the Truth About Why I Don't Sleep at Night

Love is not your ear to the ceiling

Guessing what color her stockings are

And listening to her walk back and forth

All night

Love is not the looks you give strange men

Coming out of her apartment

Or the smiles you give her in the hallway

Like you have no idea what she does up there

Love is not curling up in an empty bathtub

Every time you hear her turn the water on

And listening to her shower ten feet above you

Love has nothing to do with the Chapstick she dropped in the hallway

Or the coffee cup she threw away outside

Love is not the box you keep these things in

Nor the contents of that box

***

First Poem

He hung himself in the family garden

His family found him that evening

The note in his pocket read:

"I am already tired..."

***

Trust

I see my reflection

In sidewalks

And smashed out windows

As I wander these streets

Just to be outside

To be anywhere but the apartment

The night tightens its jaws around my neck

And I see my reflection

In burning buildings

And abandoned playgrounds

True beauty is offered to me daily

But I always turn it down

I always walk away

Pain, depression, desperation...

I can rely on

They don't turn on you

At least not the same way love will

Chris Goodman is a resident of Greensburg, PA. He suggests doing whatever inspires you often, going to see people read poems live and listening to John Coltrane. He has no formal writing education but is thankful for his friends that do.