"Use more symbolism in your works," they critiqued.
I replied, "I don't need to,"
because he, who i write about,
represents a far greater part of me
than they ever cared to comprehend.

My works are what I believe in,
and that is in writing about
what means most to me.

He is enough.

Give me back the breaths
you stole away from me.

Write back all the translucent words
I was too afraid to spill the first time.

Erase the bittersweet memories,
destroy the projections of us
for we are nothing now.

Teach your tongue to behave,
twist it in all ways
except for the curl it makes
when trying to say my name.

The paths we wanted to pave?
Dig up the bricks
you are not the way I want to live my life
we can never make homes out of people.

I want them back
but not you.