I sit under the desert breeze,
under the tall palm tree pondering,
who I am, what I want,
  what I need, where I want to be,
      why do I live, why do I wake?
the desert sand on my toes, a slight reminder
  of living, a brief sign of my humanity,
        a simple touch. . . with no answers. . .
I am alone. . .
    not even my conscious answers.
          I miss myself. .
Why am I alone? why is my heart scattered
   upon the questions unanswered
          pondering; lack of living
                     I want to live; not p̶o̶n̶d̶e̶r̶

I am here in your eyes,
look at me, hear me, feel me,
better yet forget me
I am like you. . .
we are one in the same; one of many
we are nameless, due to our sameness
sparks, comets, eruptions, cosmic clouds fill the iris.
and yet we are all the same,
filled with darkness, filled with death,
filled with sadness
lost lovers, lost in the cosmic sea unaware,
of our loss of joy, loss of love , loss of fire
ardent passion filled flame lost to ashes,
we are dreamers, dreaming of the beyond,
dreaming of the cosmos, dreaming of love lost
dreaming. . . dreaming . . . dreaming. .
until the day finds us,
   time does not stop, nor is it forgiving.
       yet we cling to night, to our cosmic dreams,
as well fall into walls of depravity,
   on the foggy shores of life,
        on the train that never reaches the station,
we become fixtures, tied to our dreams,
   tied to the past we are s̶h̶a̶d̶o̶w̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶v̶i̶n̶g̶
.

The world is cold with you,
for the flowers that bloomed,
  filled with the hum of the bee,
turn , dreary and cool.

The city is cool with you,
church bells no longer ring,
   our future is bleak,
as the sky comes down to drown the trees.
life is obscure, dark, dim.

Life is cold with you,
  I lose my spark,
     my creativity, my being,
          I lose me.
What little beauty I defended,
is cut , hidden, gone.

The sun escapes my orbit,
   my skies grow darker,
      I toss and I turn,
          pleading for a light; long gone.
begging to return to me; me before you.

I'm sorry I am broken,
But I am not your modern day simile,
I don't choose to compete,
I don't choose to check off the boxes
I am broken, different, and strong.

Does that scare you?
I am not your definition of beautiful,
  I am mine, and that is okay I choose to embrace my flaws.

in the middle of my madness,
on the edge of life,
darkest of my days,
3:00 a.m. no clue whether its day or night,
clinging to your photos , sobbing, pleading, snorting, pretending to live my life.
I took back my life,
I started accepting that you are gone,
no words, no moments, no tears
will bring you back. . .
I needed to stop dwelling,
for as I spiral out of control,
I can choose when to stop,
I can choose when to change,
I can choose sadness or happiness,
I call the shots,
they are my own,
there's no point in meeting again,
you are gone. . . I am here. . .
your memories are here. . .
I am strong,
   I cry,
       I loved,
I will learn to love again,
for the destination I choose to find, is not where I hope to meet.
I am here. . . I choose to live. . .

As he leaves, he takes his memory.
His ways of being, his current of emotions,
His sweet honeydew smell, his way of being goodbye
and never.

Still nights, the superficial,
,
Without noticing you went from him,
to it, to a thing.
polished thing.
Falling, slipping
crying, sweet anguish thing.
Sweet thing, trapped in captivity of the entrails,
of the knot already forever binded,
blinded from the sobbing, you lose yourself
sweet thing.

Until one day, another stops the pain.
Stops it, and reduces it to an annoying
voice, a mysterious touch, to a resurfaced polish.
Offered, given, taken,
sweet thing the hidden loneliness all but awaits,
you fail to feel its quake as you play the game again.