I miss watching your words,
always carefully chosen,
light up my screen.

I miss your laugh,
the way it was slightly different,
when you were talking to me.

I miss your face,
always carefully controlled,
even when I knew you were itching to smile.

I miss you.

nights like static      unwinding
through prescription bottles and empty
notebooks    the doctor says
my heart is wearing thin    but what
does he know about hearts

there's ink in my veins now    replacing
what you drained    and it's going to take
you people decades to recover from
all of the damage    these pages
will burn clean through your hands

You are the sun,
I am your mirror.
I reflect your light
back to you.

Your rays touch me -
mine never reaches you.

They left,
The world moved,
And silence sat beside me
Not as a punishment,
Bt as a reminder:
I am all I need.

too
late
fateful words
reminds me what I've been too late for
too late to whisper I love you
too late to say no
too late to tell the truth
too late to erase a mistake
too late to speak up
too late to try
too late to give a hug
too late to think straight
too late to land
too late to stop you
too
late
fateful words

soft ice flows
down hard rock
gushing over stones
and slipping through
streams
of water
light and liquid
beauty
full mountains
of mossy trees
bumpy
green all around
moors of tussock
with cream sheep between
smiles
of sunshine
soft eyes
happy souls

I am afraid that if I pluck every single bad part of me, then I won’t be me anymore.

Maybe that’s just who I am.

I am all the bad parts of me.

Are there levels to this?
Is there a hierarchy for morality?

In some way I think we all are just as equally messed up.
Simply that some are less immune to it.

Maybe I am everything wrong with me,
everything I have done,
hurt,
bruised,
is just a sliver of my true nature.