they say it's all in
my head — why do I feel it
in my LIMBS and CHEST

now I know my type
— I keep falling for someone
who won't jᵘmp with me

dip your long fingers
in me     — I'm a lake,
                                       deep,
                                                 dark
veiled,
            calm with desire

seated, my back rests
but calm deserted me when
you pressed my shoulders

talking in the dark
speaking only with our hands
I found warmth and light

no one told me that
aching for someone, for love
would be this painful

peal my layers off
eat me up and spit me out
plant me — I'm a seed

head on my chest, I
trace his curves with my fingers
like a book in ⠃⠗⠁⠊⠇⠇⠑‎

will you call my name
again, the one with double
letters where yours have

enter through the same
door he walked out of — that is
how
          you find
                           my heart

I was up, thinking
were you ever woken by
                    rain, at 2 am?
then I wished I was there to
feel your arms wrapped around me

our days came with rain
the cold kissed my lips — I wish
                           you did it instead

heaven's gate closes
the longer I keep you here
sunkissed, on my bed

inside the tunnel
the clown made you cry again
I promise not to

why does thunderclap
over a sunlit sky — feel
like an oath you'd break

but then the rain came
where each drop planted a kiss
on my skin — sweet, soft
and tender — exactly where
you promised each one will be

now each thunderclap
over a sunlit sky — is
hope I believe in

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

maybe it's not them
you miss — perhaps it's yourself
                back when you're happy

the earth was a wide
and blank canvas — now you're my
FAVORITE COLOR

microgravity
behold, this astronaut's set
to find V⊙YAGER

I can't tell him
he's beautiful
— because then
       he'll know
         why
           he's beautiful
             to me

the PARABLE of
the ALL-NIGHTER: "is sleep just . . ."

a SOCIAL CONSTRUCT

I'd like to take your
glasses off someday, and set
them on a table
then I'll lean forward, as slow
as the way
                        you
             stir
                        your
             cup

flowers and dried leaves
these GRAVESTONES neatly ALIGNED
  just like office desks
    and cars stuck in traffic jams
      and spreadsheets with empty cells

you ought to be hanged
for the way you stare — gold-framed
in a museum

they say looks can ****
but why does mine want you stripped
warm — and on my bed

our love can take a
different shape, HISTORY
— the one we shared — won't

YOU emanate GRACE
that to say — you're beautiful
would be           REDUNDANT

glorious rain — we
are a storm within these walls
made of two bodies

bridges look best when
you're in the water — best crossed
                             when with a lover

does it keep you up
at night — waiting for the when
in WHEN I GROW UP . . .

I might as well live
in my very own country
— PROCRASTINATION

even my own eyes
deny me of my own tears
— what else can't I have

if you didn't sleep
last night, did today ever
turned to tomorrow

things I left unsaid
walks the plank that is my
tongue, but they won't jump
and now roam my mouth — ghosts with
a LIFE more DEAD than ALIVE

this crowded room is
a battlefield where we take
turns stealing glances

even I can't tell
anymore, which of the things
                    I say are true / lies
but for some unknown reason
you're here, you know who I am

you make sense — like a
warm mug of matcha latte
on a rainy day
                      門

treacherous are my
own thoughts — for they are daggers
I hold on the blade

I was up, writing
my ink — cold and raven like
                               rain at 2 am

living alone, I
thought the sea was a distant
dream — 'til I cried one

confession: I thought
the THREE-BODY PROBLEM was
an old ****** case

I keep wanting you
and aching afterward — yet
I keep
            coming
                           back

the PARABLE of
the PLEASER:      "can you help with . . ."

YEAH
             SURE THING
                                       WHY NOT

dough in the oven
and a lover with their past
— these things won't rise if
you keep opening it up
digging it, calling them out

I am losing sleep
over the matter of why
I am losing sleep

fleeting orange sky
stop — before I sing sadly
through dark winter nights

keeping a secret
was a spark in my bare hands
'til it was  —  the SUN

up at 2 am
— chasing after something lost
like I'm losing time