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His
V Mar 2019
His
Her scent was subtle like the amber candle
I sometimes lighted up on solitary
She wasn’t that simple but secure,
well-rounded one could say

———

Where I was,
well I was a lopsided renegade
A somewhat lost cause —lost to myself that is and not to others
Those around me still had faith in me but I never quite got beyond the futility of it all
For even those who convert upon their deathbed have ‘faith’ for a second before they fall or perhaps fly into the anonymity of death
But isn’t this the most futile of epochs, one lingering whisper towards an anonymous deity and all is forgotten, I think not

I suppose then the reason I give those who seem to have faith in me such a hard time is because I sense them as seeking to affirm some element of themselves within my own absurdity
This in turn merely multiplies the absurdity of such a faith until we find ourselves sacrificing our nearest and dearest

I suppose then that it is most absurd of me to smile as she greets me in our first met
She moves closer, a big accordion smile juts out of my seams
Rather bashfully I tip my hat
A tune springs forth signaling my surrender
We converse, I laugh a lot
She never stops seeing my eyes, while I ******* my cigarette

I suppose then that her enchanting complexities security now becomes perforated by my own absurd faith

What a contradiction

She takes my hand. For now, I forget.
V Mar 2019
You once favored me to write, I said I don't want to
Now I even could not stop writing till morning hoping it'd heals
I cracked my fingers but somehow were not enough to tend your troubled brow

My sandpaper touch across your subtle face pushed you further
Further away from me and back towards her
Too much past no enough to present, yes, something like that

And now I stand at the edge of this seamless desert watching you fade
The proximity I briefly felt was a mirage,

I always deceive myself.
V Apr 2019
This is home
2 AM
‘funny valentine’, droplets of rain falling past the bedroom window
loose hair
bare shoulders
the impossible heat of your body in the dark
whispers bare as thread
memories and memories.

— The End —