if I can only
be happy for you and not
happy with you — f

to see you smile like
Sakaguchi Kentaro —
that's my sun and sky

oh how I wish to
be kissed like I'm his first and
last lung-full of air

when my palm is on
the side of my face
and my fingers curl
at the back of my neck
I can't tell
which
feels which

my skin is foreign
land — just as my hand is a
foreigner on yours

not in my room — yet
out here in the midst of this
storm — I feel at home

I hear rain coming
like heavy footfalls of my
favorite person

Mondays are for things
often left open from the
night before — close me

made of soft mornings
humid noons, quiet evenings —
I dream of summer

infinity slow
yet certainly numbered — this
makes summer sweeter

you're the summer months
I spent in Grandma's house —just
infinity slow

you hear my nightmares
because no one would take them
and you would tell me
you had one too last night as
if it's not mere chance — but fate

**** I keep losing
you in the crowd, guy who looks
like Kido Taisei

thank the gods we're in
a crowded room — I would've
confessed* where I stood

(*or came out)

days — blurry, nights — hazed
time poured in a glass-like stream
unremarkably

if you wish to know
me, start slow — I'm an image
still painting itself

can't tell if it's the
cold air — or disengagement
that makes mornings hard

you only listen
when you hear the alcohol
talking — in anguish

I can explain the
concept of infinity
better than I can
comprehend the breadth and depth
of the space you keep for me

in the end it's not
the time difference but the
difference in us

your kind
of gorgeous
brings me
to my knees
so hard —
it shouldn't
be allowed

got so depressed in
the middle of changing sheets
I slept without one

you came to take your
stuff — you can take everything
just take me with you

getting rid of your
memories made new ones in
need of forgetting

how many mails left
on read are too many — to
consider stoping?

sarcasm demands
shared intimate history
for it to make sense

W,

When I talk about
my past lovers,
it's only with
the intention of
making you
jealous.

Love,
ML

some nights I wish you'd
just knock — it's not just my door
I'll let you in through

when people feel trapped
sometimes they're the prisoner
sometimes they're the cell

the sound of rain on
a moving train makes me wish
the trip was longer

what does it mean when
the time they used to give free—
ly, we beg for now?

infidelity
can be to one's own self for
choosing another
person's happiness over
being faithful to your own

let me
want your future —
   one that's
   certain and sturdy
and need your now —
   where we're
   calm and quiet

where waking up
   doesn't hurt
   anymore
   because it's
   no longer
   just
   a dream

slow mornings are for
taking his time to hold me
like a lazy cat

it started with his
voice — deep — then it was his eyes
when he smiled — honest

deep voice drew me in —
close enough to inhale his
secondhand stories

I can change the room
but every time you enter
all the noise softens

I chase with my eyes
what my hands cannot touch — I'm
left empty-handed

head raised to the sky —
in a way, praying you won't
stop what you're doing

the world's a tightrope —
I fear nothing when we're each
other's counterweight

the real sin is not
in two men in love but in
choosing to hate love

I have yet
to understand
what it's like
to have
had touched
and tasted fire —
raging

to have
had melted
from a warmth
given off
by a source
other than
my own

and to have
been molded
into the image
and likeness
of a space
I didn't
create

I have yet
to gain
the CONFIDENCE
to cast fire
that comes with
having had
tasted you

on my knees — in a
way, praying that you won't take
your hand off my nape

don't be surprised if
my heart is at the bottom
of a barrel of
flowers and pointy daggers
— mind the cuts as you reach down

of GRAVITATION —
I want you near just as much
as you want me close

I don't wish to be
where you're not — your absence has
embittered life there

is it because I
have yet to taste that I have
yet to
           understand

lying beside me
you're the sound of heavy snow—
storm in December
just the reason to stay put
curled up by a fire —
                                       your fire