when my ancestors told me
that life always
hangs in the balance
I never imagined
that what my soul
was hanging from.

am I an outstretched arm
waiting to be pulled?
or is a
metaphysical noose
tied around my bodiless neck?  

constantly grasping for breath,
always in the shadow of death.

- n.t.p.

from my lipstick
stains on your coffee mugs
to lipstick stains on your cigarettes

no matter how hard i try to hate you,
i can only feel sorry for you.

What if we are
Like universes crossing

Eerily similar
But not the same
We're the same in almost too many ways
For it to be just a coincidence

We've met and re-met too many times
For it to not be fate

What if our timelines are linked
Just not in the way we want them to be

What if I never see you again?
I would much rather spend every day

Noticing your eyes
And smiling because they stay the same