To you, the ground beneath my feet
Every step I take,
you support me.

You stand with me,
in my times of trouble

I am warmed by your embrace,
as I become entranced in your outfit of lace.

Nothing could be more finely crafted,
than my connection with you.

The ages may wear on you,
yet you remain the only one
my sole longs for.

For you truly are...
My favorite pair of shoes.

there are so many of you
that i would love to sit down with;
maybe over a milkshake and a plate of fries;
and just talk.
i want to ask you about the boy that hurt you,
about the anger you feel deep inside
over a father who said he’d come back...
and then didn’t.
i want to run with you through pages of words and say
“oh that’s right, what a lovely metaphor.”
i want to see all your smiling faces and
thank each and every one of you for showing me kindness,
for saving my life.
i want to collaborate on novels of poetry
and laugh with you through the tears of our pasts.
so until we sip those milkshakes and eat those fries...
thank you, to
some of the most beautiful people i have never met.

You are my wedding
reception for death
a heart beyond doubt
floats in your neck
like a compass
past lovers
holding close
a stethoscope
to my chest
and the final mist
of mourning
in your eyes I
am wondering
will I be missed
or just another
season in your life
passing like
summers turn
to autumns' leaves
falling one
     after
               the
                        other.

It pains me to think,
that in the grand scheme of things
I am nothing.
I mean nothing, I’ll be forgotten
more easily than I’d be noticed.
If anything,
I am a disappointment.
There was so much potential in me
when I was young.
Too bad I never had a passion for anything,
growing up.
Too bad I never had natural talent in the first place.
We blame natural circumstances like it’s nothing,
because it’s easier than looking
inside ourselves for the real reasons.
Too bad I never tried hard.
Too bad I never stuck with anything long enough
to actually gain skill and expertise.
Too bad I realized all this
way too late.
Now the realization comes like a disappointment,
a shattering heart made of
Hopes and dreams.
The vain but natural desire to be recognized
for some talent we have, for something,
anything.
We search and search
for something we can do.
Some accomplishment we can brag about,
letting our vanity get the best of us,
just like we are taught not to do.
Too bad our desires come crashing down with reality,
taking our hearts with it.
It hurts to know that we really don’t matter to the world.
The Earth will keep turning,
the sun keep shining,
the stars still twinkling,
long after we’re gone.
Truly, it hurts to realize that we are
a disappointment to ourselves,
most of all.

We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Almost.