Here’s to the feelings that flow
through my veins,

here’s to the love whose trip
was a lot of pain,

here’s to the days
where I am in vain,

and here’s to your heart
that I cant seem to obtain.

I had my first dream last night that you weren't in.
not even a minor character,
your ****** name wasn't even in the credits,
let alone plastered across the sky in flashing lights
like you want it to be.
my first reality that you didn't belong in,
and it was the most blissful peace that I can remember since we bathed in pools of cloud.

I heard the first song that didn't make me think of you yesterday.
the lyrics, for once, were just lyrics,
not an embodiment of you and the things you do.
guess what?
it was coldplay.
you always hated coldplay.

this morning, I basked in the sun and didn't picture you coated in gold light beside me.
I didn't look at the leaves adorning the trees and picture your face laughing beneath it.

I didn't trace the plate lines of my palm and imagine the earthquake we used to create when yours collided with mine.

I didn't eat new food that I wanted you to try and I didn't want to share the smallest details of my day with you.

you may have won this poem, loverboy,
but don't be too triumphant.
your victory won't last long.
it's the era of my new beginnings without you and I'm going to be just fine.

a withered husband,
failed by life
tells me the story
that keeps him
up at night-

thrown in jail
for showing his face
in a white neighbourhood
after light

while he was being
waterboarded for
his tardiness, his
wife was being
sodemised by
men in uniforms,
trashing their shack
and leaving her with a
child with blue eyes

-he was left with
ptsd and an infant
that was birthed
out of a crime

he now awaits for an
apocalyptic flood
to take him out of his
grief knowing that the
love of his life went
through hell knowing
he could’ve protected
her from such demise

he now screams to
the sky asking his
cancer-freed rib and
his adopted son
who left him in this
prison - where is
his rope or knife.

-t.m

The paint
Black
Purple
Blue
Red
Scatters my pale
Frail
Delicate arm
Tonight
I am the canvas
I am the mess
I am the tortured

In general
You want to leave
People
And places
Better than when you found them