some thoughts on the man she sees when she closes her eyes


gives in to the incomplete shapes

of the people from his past


answers letters and emails,

says i love you, says

i loved you, watches snow blow

                      past the windshield


this is the world without color


these moments are all

              shades of grey


steps closer to god in the

dying light of some january

afternoon, and all he will ever

                                be is cold


poem waiting 28 years to be written


in a candlelit room in

the first good days of autumn i

will kiss her pale skin will

say i don’t believe in

god but i believe in you and her 

           smile will make me holy


her joy will

let me be more


[in a house full of doors with no exits]


wants to know about the

last good year says you never stop

talking about it asks were we lovers yet?

and if there is no answer can there

be any truth?


if the wrong door is always

locked from the wrong side, can we

possibly be here by choice?


but it’s true, yes, that it was

the last good year and

it’s true that i was someone else


it’s true that i had the answers but

chose not to share them, and

this is the part my father would laugh at


he would be the reason that i learned to

hate myself at such a young age


it would be the last good year, and

then nothing but the slow

backwards stumble 

of everything that came after





John Sweet sends greetings from the rural wastelands of upstate NY. He is a firm believer in writing as catharsis, and in the continuous search for an unattainable and constantly evolving absolute truth. His latest poetry collections include HEATHEN TONGUE (2018 Kendra Steiner Editions) and A FLAG ON FIRE IS A SONG OF HOPE (2019 Scars Publications).

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s