The steady hum of the radiator
Is now our only constant.

Your angry heart is coursing blood so quickly you’re colored red,
Thumping so audible that the dog confuses the tremor for an earthquake,
He’s barking,
You’re barking.

My own has shattered into such a sadness that it is skipping beats
Akin to the now wrecked records splintered on the floor,
They’re past scratched,
I’m past scratched.

The radiator didn’t acknowledge the war,
The radiator stayed as steady as a surgeon’s hand,
The radiator didn’t realize we needed to cool down,
But, oh, how I wish that heartless thing did.

At best you’re a rusty melody
A lyric gone foggy and distant
But don’t fret my poor lovely
I’ll  tune you right back to existence —

We’ll take on the world one song at a time,
We’ll pour our unconventional love into our rhymes.

He’s disembodied
Lives solely in his head —
His dance is chalk against a board
His feet are autopsied and tagged “dead” —

Science is
His beacon
His faith
His love
His life.

But what good is just a mind full of formulas
When not mindful or exposed to other arts?
Appreciation stems from sentiment
Making subject hierarchy harassment.

Reincarnation teaches
Empathy for all past beings.

Don’t apologize,
I was you once
I understand the distance you travel —
To you, sacrifice comes natural
To you, break downs are routine
To you, hope is expressed through help.

You encompass an almighty humanity.

I let the bananas rot on purpose because I knew that would bother you
But unlike every other time you aren’t here to store them properly
Or hurriedly down them before slightly bruised turns totally expired
And I’ll confess a pathetic truth –

Since you’ve left I’ve been so lonely
I look to the company of fruit flies
But the bright yellow has blackened
And there are still no signs
Of even the most minuscule life.

So I’m left wondering if anyone’s ever sued another
For stealing everything alive…
My heart,
My soul,
My ******* fruit flies.

My desk is splintering –
     Each time I go to pen a poem
     I end up with pinpricks and in pain
     Wooden needles dwindling my thoughts into half nothings.

But wearied words keep bubbling in my brain –
     Like fermenting fine wine
     Dazing my work with stray sounds
     Their dull fiery fury only serves to slur my speech.

The page is inked with nonsensical rambles –
     An unedited outlook of my inner mind    
     A canvas confettied with crap
     Everything was purer as a blank slate.

I destroyed us
To salvage me.

Before accusations fling
About that being a selfish thing…
I had to get out with a shred of sanity.

         Remember when storm struck
         The sturdiest of ships
         Refuse to anchor lifeboats.

Let’s let it go
Let’s let us breathe.

        It’s time to d r i f  t   a   p    a    r    t .   .  .  .