Dear Love,

I found you in the back alley way
near the barn on a bike
and swimming in the glen.

Saw you jump right in,
*** out, into a freezing pool -
middle fingers in the air
like some weird baptismal funeral.

I felt the weight of your losses on my shoulders
like a backpacking trip from hell,
and the way your lips pressed against one another
in an empty room.

Heard you laugh in an empty room
and fill cars with God-awful karaoke,
windows down and smiling the whole time.

I tasted your tears when you laughed
so hard that you cried, or cried so hard that you laughed,
bittersweet like a chipwich in a 711 parking lot.

Smelt your pain like a two-day-old dish
just waiting to be scrubbed, and
your happiness in clean clothes and roadside flowers.

They say soul mates aren't real,
its just who you put the work into.
Each day I wake up to you,
raw and real and still trying,
still learning and loving and giving it your all,
and honey that's just why I love,

Myself

it slips
and it dips.

it falls
to the wayside,
like clothing
on the floor
or brown hair
on a pillow.

it waves
in piles
of misplacement
that crash
and fall,

rippling
and blurring
from one day
to the next.

There is more paint on my hands
Than my canvas,
Which is blessed with an image
Of my dog's ****, and I love it.

There is a small stain
Of yellow splattered memory
From when I knocked over
The paint tube for the 17th time,
And no one yells. I love it.

It is a Friday night at 24,
My first night alone in my apartment.
All of my friends are drinking,
Or spending time with their partners,
But I am here, drinking wine out the bottle,
Sneaking leftovers out the fridge with my bare hands,
Spilling paint all over my ******* self,
Painting a silly doggy ****,
And for once
I am happy
Alone.

Everyone asks
"Aren't you afraid
To travel all alone?"

I reply
"Not at all.
I am afraid
To never have gone."

I used to write a lot,
I had a lot to say.

These days I am quieter,
It's easier that way.