I remember a time when I looked at you and the chocolate brown black holes
of your eyes drew me in,
When I wished to dance among the stars in your brain, tracing constellations
from your neural pathways.
A time when the attraction of your beautifully imperfect face was more powerful than
the most powerful intermolecular forces,
and there was nothing I wanted more than to prove that it isn't ionic bonds that are the strongest, but love.
With you.

Now, there are no stars performing their fiery routine in the depths of your eyes,
no gravity to **** me in past the point of no return, as I used to be.
Nothing.
Empty space is all that remains of the intergalactic event that occurred in my mind.
What happened?


I remember the darkest corners of my universe being filled with temperatures and light in immeasurable quantities,
When I loved you.
When the wires in my brain were shot from the sheer energy of this force.


Now, having been reconstructed, no such forces pass.
My universe is once dark again. Speckled with lights of reason and logic.

As it should be.


I don't know what happened.


But, it's...



*.....finally......

It’s as if you’re drowning
In a cold blue lake,
Your bottom lips shiver
Your brittle bones shake.

You want to come up for air
But my dear you can’t seem to move,
Paralyzed in this frozen lake
What have you got to prove?

Your eyes remain open
Just enough so you can see,
A man’s face at the surface
Leaning over on his knee.

You recognize the face
For it’s the one that you love,
It’s almost twisted the way
That he’s watching from above.

You want to reach out to him
To feel the very warmth of his touch
But my dear you are drowning
And his love is just too much.

Oh darling I know what you need
For him to teach you how to swim,
But he will only be the reason
That you drown, your every limb.

What tragedy has seeked me out this year, I know not.
For in hope I expected, but t'was disappointment I got.

There were ten boys in a room
numbered one through ten
they all lived peacefully
until the moment when
number ten took a liking to
number seven's suede shoes
three defended ten while
six and seven made a truce

ten shot a rocket
with questionable aim
after which we find
number two had been slain
eight and nine shot back
with a sling shot blast
while ten used four
to cover his ***

four perished, as one
came to his aid
spraying blindly
over where four laid
when it was over
only seven and ten remained
while one fell over exhausted
his resources drained

seven looked down at his shoes
which after the fighting were no longer new
he took them off one by one
and handed them to ten
deciding the war was no longer needed
ten thanked seven and walked away
to the corner and turned around
he'd fight again another day

I would start with your hands.
Mine would dance with yours;
our fingers waltzing together.

Then they would become curious,
I know so.
My hands would glide up your arm
leaving a trail of goose bumps behind.

I don't know where your hands have gone,
but mine have reached the top of your shoulder.
My fingers can't resist
tracing your collar bone.

Your hands find mine.
I think they got lost
in the escalation of my own.
But they're together now.

Taking a hint from yours,
my hands reach to your chin --
only breaking contact
for a second.

My fingers have tilted your chin,
so our eyes can do a similar dance
to the one our hands have completed.

Hands are the utilitarian laborers
of the body,
but eyes guard the gates
to the soul.

My eyes search your own.
They are hesitant, but
my hands are always reliable.

They pull you into me
and at the last second
before our eyes close,
and our lips meet,
my eyes find what they knew was there.

I miss you so ******* much it hurts,
in my mind and in my chest.
The smell of your hair,
the feel of your skin.
The sound of your voice,
if you say "I love you", or
**** it, even if you asked
"are you okay?",
because right now
I would say I am not.
I would say I miss you.
Waking up next to you,
or really, opening my eyes,
sometimes,
as you wake up next to me.
I miss your touch,
sometimes,
you hold me and
you won't lie.
So you don't tell me
everything is going to be okay.
You say something else.
I miss that.
I miss it so much I had to start up
my ******* lap top after midnight
to write it down.
I ******* miss you.
Initiating a kiss.
Telling a story.
****…
Everything.
Just anything, okay?
So now, one of these messes
says it; I love you.
I love you so much I have trouble thinking
of a life without you, and a love for you.
I love you so much it hurts too.
It hurts to smile about the thought of you still.
I miss your snarky attacks on
the mainstream narrative.
I love your sarcastic dismantling
of the dominant ideology.
I ******* love you.
If you were wondering what I think
about when you're not here,
I think of you.
Sometimes it makes me smile,
sometimes it makes me feel alone,
but I think of you.
I miss you so much it hurts.

So I had to put some effort into
finding things I regret these days,
but it wasn't too hard coming from
a bitter mindset.
Come to think of it,
I regret many years of my life,
even if I don't regret the people.
Sincerely wish that wasn't the case,
but whatever, right?
Pour me another glass of anything,
I think I'm drinking anticoagulants
these days, but remembering
is so **** painful,
I forget...
The numbers on these pencils,
so I switched to ink;
Now I cover up the mistakes
I used to erase.
Now when you call me
I don't answer quite
the same way I used to.
Now when people look
for me, they find me lost
or wandering somewhere
I really shouldn't be.
Sitting in living rooms
with pictures of people
who aren't smiling.
Fix me a drink!
No, fix the one in my hands,
or the one in the back of my
skull.
"Fix something already",
he said, comprehending
the wounds were indeed
fatal already, yet eventually.