"do you think we're friends in every universe?"
i think sometimes
you're an unexpected present in June,
the gift of consideration outside of birthdays.
sometimes i'm gratitude, a full heart
thanking the heavens for you.
sometimes i’m the white-washed face of God
in someone's painting,
......
Your mother thinks it’s time
I taught you about the birds and the bees,
so here’s what I’ll say about that.
God knows it’s easy to envy birds,
seeing them flying so high and free.
But the truth is most of them live in constant fear
of being killed and eaten by bigger birds,
or cats, or some other creature.
And all that singing the Romantics talk about,
well, it’s really just them squawking in turf wars,
......
Will you sit in in the dim, sleeplessness with me, with our circadian rhythms in sync?
As the warm-toned lamp paints behind printed stories— coated blonde on cream.
Tired yet upright, side by side, until we start to dream. Then hand in hand, wrapped from behind, bound in comfort and security.
Together, could we gaze upon every set that the sun will stream?
Where we dissolve into merely breaths and heartbeats.
From the gravel or grass or dirt beneath our feet, to the tallest skyscraper roof in any city.
Will you rise to each dawn's break and wake endlessly next to me?
So in sync, wirelessly, effortlessly, naturally.
......
She climbed out of bed...
And then she said...
“I’m leaving you because there’s
No nothing more between us...”
She said our love was dead...
She packed up...
Then she cracked up...
“How could you think I’d stay
When you don’t even like me?”
......
I have breakup at eight tonight
It's in my calendar. Look!
From eight to nine tonight: an appointment
With the title: "Breakup". That's what it says.
At eight tonight
Is when she will end it.
She didn't say as much but I already know
Why we're getting together earlier than usual
What we'll be doing and
......
Many who enter our lives
pass through without leaving a mark.
They may have once been important,
you may have even loved them,
but once gone, they’re gone.
But there are others who,
when they’re gone, for whatever reason,
create a wound.
It’s as if a piece of the puzzle
that was you has been taken.
......
There’s a word
for the scent the earth gives
after it’s been broken open
by rain.
Petrichor.
The sound alone
feels like a secret slipping into my palms—
something beautiful
that arrives after a storm
......
I need you,
She whispers. She smiles.
I need you,
But don’t you take it for weakness!
I need you because I choose to need you now!
I’m here, he says. Right by your side.
Your strong iridescent unquenchable light,
how could I see it any less but a precious delight?
In which I am basking and ready to die!
Don’t do that! she pleads.
......
Illicit is the love you promise.
Clandestine is your touch.
How fair is your “honest”
When guile it takes to search?
And find I did no more than smoke and ashes,
Crestfallen hearts and broken hopes,
Affronted by the lavish gashes,
You clawed upon their hollowed bones.
Since when does my mind waver
and teeter in between
......
My peanut butter eyes on caramel silk skin.
Butterflies flutter—folding in and famished—
beating and bowing before my bile-slick stomach.
Flirting with my heart—an empty love, lost and lame.
Pupils glued to my toes,
a sight caught in the corner of my vision—
bleeding blurry.
Fain to find myself blighted thin.
Shadows march through my veins—
......