you wake up
his hair is spilled across the pillow,
the sun slants across his cheekbone
and his breath is slow and even.
he smells like an open field
and his body is wrapped around yours
so he keeps you warm.
you think,
there is no moment better than this,
that he is too perfect to exist.
but you wake up gasping,
skin soaked in sweat.
you lie there for a long time,
in your completely empty bed.

You thought I was that type:
That you could forget me,
And that I'd plead and weep
And throw myself under the hooves of a bay mare,

Or that I'd ask the sorcerers
For some magic potion made from roots and send you a terrible gift:
My precious perfumed handkerchief.

**** you! I will not grant your cursed soul
Vicarious tears or a single glance.

And I swear to you by the garden of the angels,
I swear by the miracle-working icon,
And by the fire and smoke of our nights:
I will never come back to you.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

i wonder if my name dances round and round in your head like a mantra
i wonder if it pops up in the middle of conversations, if you hear the syllables like a call to prayer
i wonder if it makes you wish you were dead
no; i wonder if it makes you wish i were dead
i wonder if you wake up in the morning and for a quick second you can't remember why you hurt
then loud and clear it shrills, ringing in your head, a reminder of your destruction
i wonder if they ask you why you look so burnt
i wonder if my name whispers itself into your ear but you stay silent
i wonder if it laughs when they tell you that love is the answer
i wonder if it cries when they tell you that love is the devil
do you stand straight like a soldier being called on to the battlefield
when you hear something that rhymes with it
or do you crawl into a hole within yourself and let the moment pass?
does it lull you to sleep late at night when the demons play
does it scream in your head when you're somewhere between life and death?
do you remember my name, my love? do you remember it soft, loud, and alive? do you remember my name, my love, do you remember it well? do you remember my name, my love, because it remembers you. do you remember my name, my love, because it has not forgotten you.

i thought i was starving for home
the smell of the soul and the taste of the air
i thought my hunger was for all that sunshine
the familiar roads, the wind in my hair
but i sit on this ground that i have lived on before
waiting on home to accept me once again
loneliness and betrayal, this land is empty
hollowness and silence, there is no love here
i sit here in my nothingness and count the black sky
this isn't home
this can't be home

(i miss you).

If I saw you
I might burst into tears
I might start laughing
Hysterically
Or I might need to hug you
To know what you smell like