your eyes
            are
          so explosively
   captivating
                    i feel like i
   float in space
                 every time
      your blue
                    and
                          my green
               collide,
    creating a new earth.

There was a boy
I had never seen cry,
but every time someone mentioned home...
his voice began to waver,
and his eyes,
Well,
his eyes...
they misted...

He kisses me.
Our alcohol mouths intertwined.
Our cigarettes long burned, with ash trailing as long as the city lights that you walk me home under.
I open my eyes, and he isn’t you.
Will my whole life consist of kissing complete strangers so I can find you again?

He pulls me in close and holds me.
If only he knew, that’s all I want.
I have this longing to be held.
By anyone, really.
I don’t want them to talk.
I don’t want them to look me in the eyes.
Because I’ll cry and I don’t want to cry.
Just keep holding me.
Please.
I know he will never be you, but in this moment, with my head buried on his chest, I can pretend.

faces appeared from the smoke one evening
as the blue of the afternoon hushed into black
and tellies babbled out through wide-open windows
to the cars standing sentry in the street

within the smoke a mouth is singing
a silent song that splits the air

no evening is truly still, no afternoon only blue
smoke sings silently the same song:
the dying, the unborn, the undead... in unison.

Those things now lost or never owned
Like memories of wings or our water’s sleep
Linger unobserved in peripheries of light;
Flitting like moths between vacant moments
Till we half remember a smothered dream
Of oceans and broad blown beaches;
The sprawl of endless nothings
Which hint of landscapes without edge
And buildings without design.
It’s in here we exist, and with pebbles
That we build through time for form
And spin both labyrinth and twine.

and then I asked you,
"What's your biggest fear?"

you gave me a quivering sigh,
looked at me straight in the eyes
and said,

"It's that eventually, you will see me
the way I see myself."

I only write letters to you when the leaves change colors,
My mood starts to bend as the winter wind blows in.
The gardens are wilting but I'm steadily growing,
Rising higher as the sunset comes earlier.
Do you think the snow will come this year?
Will it feel like home used to?
Upwards on the map where winter is a battle between the sun and the moon;
Winds chill bones, rattle teeth, and shake hands.
Will the paved streets sparkle with ice as the midnight hour creeps across the sky?
Think of me when you sit by the bonfires
Friends will laugh along and music will dance in the smoke,
But will it still feel like fall without me there?

the pain of losing someone
it strikes sharp
a needle aimed exactly right where it breaks the most

and the tiny hole created slowly grows heavier
burdened by the swallowed words you could've said to them

you force yourself to stop the bleeding in your gaping hole
but your arms are already tired from trying to hold onto the last shred of light
your feet are stained with bruises and cuts that leave crimson colored footsteps

they left you with the bitter aftertaste of unspoken words
candy cotton promises of the future we never got to share
the smell of smoke from burning hazy memories in the fire of our charred throats

you hear the world as deafening emptiness and everything around you has turned into ashes of silence