All these weighted apologies spill
from my hands onto the wintered ground
There are moments in the day
when all the quiet burns
and the smoke inhabits these walls
but the possession of this rain
is never enough to wash out these lungs
or dilute this volatile pain
I was never good at speaking
always shied away from crowds
you were never one to stay quiet
always ran toward the loud
A cycle of oscillating seasons
I'm too in love with hating the cold
and far too familiar with the sound of rain but these birds, they're always calling
to new mornings and a sky of gold
and you sit here, waiting to hear your name as I clean up all the spills
from these weighted apologies
and pails of winter rain

To sit here and scale our memories
looking for worth in wondering
searching for pieces in the past
I left all my paints and colorful hues
and moved forward with potfuls of rain thinking that to love is constant
and to lose is momentary pain
but all these versions of lives lived
all the people we said we were
and all the things we hope to become
stir and boil in this water
and winter tells us to stay inside
but this heart keeps racing
aching to feel the sun and the snow
to tear apart the days
and take these fractures
as testimonies of all that we braved

Scents of satsuma and cinnamon
bottled up into reminders of the little things
this blurred motion has created a mirage
of incomprehensible reasons
to forget our love for patience
from strings of silver threads
and sentimental alliances
woven into patterns of picture frames
completely blurred, alive in motion
together, a collage of all the times
stillness couldn't find its breath
and laughter took us by the shoulders
shaking and shaking
till we fell into a rhythm of remembrance
with all the little things
bottled up in an illusion of permanence

To my father, who loves telling stories

Pomegranate seeds,
splatter over the countertops
your laughter heightens their fragrance
a dish rag in my hands
a halfway story exaggerating between your lips
mouthfuls and mouthfuls of past
something so simple about this morning
a togetherness of complex mirage
sun pierces through this sinking heart
and a strong desire to ease the pain
that has sunken into the cracks
overcomes me
I wonder what love is,
If it exists beyond this moment as anything true
and you, still lost in your narrations
tell me all about living
and this wondering finds ease
just as I, in your presence

Dish soap-soaked hands
Dreams stuck to the bottom of these ***** pots
I wash and dry
still thinking about the rain in September And holding onto drops of July
Silence, a gentle hum, an occasional cough my eyes fixed on searching for all those planets
And blue moons
But never making it past the windowpane home to reflections of an unrecognizable face

I revel in how fast this life changes
and how much I miss the rain

a world
of distant voices and glittering echoes
painted with a thousand sunsets
that I've poured into my eyes
to find some relief from this tiredness
Days walk beside me, years run ahead
I wish I could collect all the silences
between all that I've said
and fill them in with things
I've lost to time
Thank you notes spill from my hands to yours
The permanence of things begins to fade among dialogue once shared
There is a world I have spent building
With stories and reminders
you left for me
I hope you'll find in it
the transience of an anger
that ceases to be

A trace of light
That's all you and I look for
when those mountains fade
behind descended clouds
and that ache in our shoulders
crumbles under the fire of this rain

the moon and all its pieces
lost to all these thoughts
you and me, the same and most different awake and restless
the silver lining of this charcoal moon
is getting harder to find

until comes this eruption of warmth
and a storm of pattering fear
that if I start counting seconds
you might disappear
so, I guess it goes without saying
everything you've always known

these nights go by in wonder
of how to build you a home