i've always liked space.
the idea of exploring
the final frontier; beyond
and into everything.
when i was in university
i wanted to be an astronaut
with a literature degree—
i thought hey,
why take maths and science
up there, but not language?
not poetry?
it's all well and good if we meet aliens,
but what will they know of us
without first knowing how we love?
i would bring a book of love poems
to the extra-terrestrials
and explain that the finest human condition
is one of devotion.
science got us upwards,
but love gave us the idea.

i'll never be an astronaut.
i think some people are destined
to become the dust that made us;
that shaped us. some of us
are our mother's children,
born on earth to die here too,
but we dream. what are we
if not made of dreams?

at night, i look at the moon.
sometimes, it is so big and full
that my heart swells with it.
my chest bursts like i've stepped
into the light of a space station
without a space suit.
that tiny little moment before death,
in which i am one with the universe,
and it makes me so small.

but, oh. out—
out into the glow of a thousand suns.
little poet in the wide universe,
loving his way upwards.
loving someone so much
that he understands
what it feels like to take
such a great leap.

with her, i know the stars.

i have started to see my life
in shades of pink.
these days, it's all sunsets
and grapefruits
and a little extra blush
on a summer evening.

my life has never been
pink before. i have hit every pixel
on the colour wheel,
but never pink. never
smoked salmon mornings
and raspberries for lunch
and cranberry lemonade.
never happy; now happy.

one day soon, my life will be purple
as usual. close to blue,
closer to red, hitting the sweet
spot and resting there. close
to pink. closest to pink.
one day, when mania is over
and summer evenings
become autumn afternoons,
i will keep the pink in my pocket
and carry it everywhere.

you don't exist when
my eyes are open
you don't exist when
my blood's not poisoned
when my soul's at peace
when my gut is full
and when I'm in company

So you exist most of the time
dear muse

i watched you slipped away
slowly taken away by time
the morning
you died in my arms
i didn’t know i could die
a million times

i breathed you in
and filled my lungs
with every ash of you
inhaling every smoke of you
they say i’ll get sick
they say i’ll die
of too much cigarettes
but they didn’t know
i’ll die if i breathed you out





—you, my cigarette

come to me sad soul
i do not promise healing
i do not promise saving
just a temporary shelter
for your temporary sadness
come to me sad soul
together we are alone
together let’s feed our starving souls
together in this temporary bliss

tell me, how many
of your poems were about me
if those flowers that bloom
and colors your white paper
represents our happy memories
or if those gray clouds and rains
and hurricanes in your canvass
were our breaking points
tell me, those love poems
those hate poems, those drunk poems
those empty, those pleading
those happy, those waiting
tell me, how many
how many of your poems “were” about me?

Sweet angel, tell me everything.
I’m not afraid of anything.
Let your worst troubles speak aloud.
You won’t transform to a dark cloud.

Sweet angel, I’ve made space for you,
A safe place where you can be true.
My love has ears for what you say.
Your troubles won’t scare me away.

Sweet angel, we’re beyond compare,
But we’re more than a love affair.
The two of us want something real.
Stressful days are part of the deal.

Sweet angel, we’ve laughs and kissing.
There’s no fear our joy’s gone missing.
It doesn’t matter what you share;
It’s sharing that proves love is there.

Sweet angel, my love ain’t too proud.
A little sadness is allowed.
Don’t let your down times change to fear.
When those times come I will be here.