I grieve you living,
mourn you whole,
the you I knew already gone
before you go.
This is how the dead stay warm.
This is how I learn to hold a hand
that doesn't know
it's already ash.
and me, I am standing in the hallway
between the two of you,
becoming architecture
nobody planned to live in.
he bleeds. I translate.
I take your blindness and his weight
and make it into something
anyone can carry but me.
to know is to lose what knowing finds. to love is to stand where love unwinds.
this is the thing about being the one in the middle:
you become very good at holding
and very unknown.
the light still comes through the window
the same way it did before.
and I am still here to see it.
that is the thing about people like me
we are built from a love
too stubborn to put down.
and something that loves like that
doesn't disappear.
it just learns
the shape of the new room
and calls it home.
May 22
May 22, 2026 at 10:16 PM UTC
Every man has left a different door open in me.
I keep the lights on for all of them.
I have learned to call this love
instead of what it is:
a mouth that stays open
long after the word has gone.
They come to me burning
and I let them.
I have held so many people
through the worst nights of their lives
and still gone to bed alone,
my hands still warm
from someone else's grief.
The ribcage is a room.
I have known this for years.
I have furnished it for everyone
but myself.
How beautifully they applaud the bruise.
To be known for the song
is to be unknown for the throat.
I am always the feast,
never the table.
I watched a boy kiss a girl under the streetlight,
his mouth the anchor,
her body the sea.
I have so much water in me
and I am still dying of thirst.
They walked back to their lives
I built out of air.
I built out of air
and called it enough.
I called it enough.
God, I called it enough.
May 16
May 16, 2026 at 5:02 PM UTC
The clock lied.
It kept time while I kept nothing.
I wish you were a girl.
The first wound
that fit perfectly.
There is a loneliness
that predates the body.
I was born into it
like a room
within a room.
I have loved boys
who became dust
to dust,
bone to salt.
I breathe them.
They stay.
I am their grave
and they are mine.
I have loved them
with my whole chest
and they never knew.
You want to know what it's like?
It's like being a door
no one walks through.
And still…
some nights
the boy I was
presses his mouth
to the window
from the outside.
He wants to tell me
it gets better.
But I am already here.
In the body
that grew around
the wound.
Now 25.
Still waiting
for a world
that hasn't arrived yet.
Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 10:28 PM UTC
1am outside the world kept its appointments but inside we forgot there was a world at all 2am just five mouths learning they could be anyone and we passed each other around like a single cigarette burning and shared and the end always wet with someone else's wanting and 3am your mouth on mine lasted longest not because we meant it but because the body knows and you’re the one who will stand beside me again in the soft light 4am we kissed like we were practicing for a wound also mouthing your neck reciting scripture and the sounds we made belonged to the air 5am between us and sometime around four I thought this is absurd five people swapping spit with noses full like 6am philosophy then my hand on someones back and the overstimulation felt like a kind of prayer 7am and we talked about love like people who have only ever drowned in it and the ******* union and 8am the self a shirt we kept taking off and handing to whoever was coldest and the night stretched and 9am morning came like someone turning the lights on mid song and it was
10:30am.
The door opened like a broken rib.
I walked out blinking,
five people
who had briefly been one.
The room is still there,
a lung holding the ghost of our names.
Still full of mouths that won’t stop
opening into ecstasy.
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 6:24 AM UTC
i plead to the skies - more, more, more -
the winds howl back in answer to my call.
and each time I cry beneath the stars, i wonder:
did Maker know, when He shaped the heavens,
what the heavens would witness?
for etched into my skin are reminders,
the cold touch,
the burning scent,
the salty taste,
of someone who will block me…
Sep 17, 2024
Sep 17, 2024 at 7:18 PM UTC