My vital sin has risen,
to catch me, from the ash.
She will duly unleash
poison in my vein.
Poised to prance, in mind mine,
my dear, I fear I feel her near.
Is apology overdue?
The trembling would cease not
for she
nor for death do I fret.
I've done been overvindicated.
My dear, my seer, let us veer
off our way back home.
Walk away from the sea,
I plead.

That is your house, your dear
you've mistaken.
You built me as the girl you killed,
who's now right behind you.

We are two different people
of the same values in life.
I know you like it when
I’m just honest, about your habits, culture,
the foods we try, then
answer my prodding questions.
Broadly exchanging sweet salutations
is the thrill of a new relation.

"Get up!"

The voice of a disappointed one who nurtured me had interrupted a dream I no longer remember. My mind tunes back to its most played station—the only one I'd never live had I a choice. What difference does it make? Whether I slumber or wake? Became a daily chorus after I heard more and more and more and more of what's in this station.

I am born a small person with a large shadow always trailing behind. It enlarges as I age and I fear it would engulf me. There are nights I spent waltzing, swinging, jazzing all alone. Thinking of a song that may never truly be. Every person I have known looks at me with happiness in their eyes. Every person I will know roaring and clapping as I end my performance. It was one practiced passionately for months, with a companion just as passionate about me and all that comes with.

That station—my favorite one—drifts me to sleep. The possibility of this nightmarish one merging with it keeps me in tune. Somehow I will get through. Somehow I will reach the last song having lived the ones my favorite station plays. I wrote.

I hope