in a city of skyscrapers
lies a sanctuary
for the introverted
leather binding and worn pages
thumbed out by eager readers
and patient bookworms
the smell of crisp new pages mixed with
beloved classics quietly sitting side by side
wooden tables and a kindergarten mat
spread next to comics and Clifford
haphazardly placed signs
signaling areas
outdated computers and shelves of movies
hidden corners away from librarians' prying eyes
put to questionable use by teen volunteers
whispered words and
clasped hands
library days.

To forget what sand had stirred
in the dark of night.

To empty the dregs left stagnant
of yesterday’s wine.

To see as though through lenses
brand new.

To discard the tethers that had
bound us tight, skin to spine.

I raise my glass
to you, dear woman
across the horizon
out where the water rises;
here's to all the years
I've spent waiting,
to all the miles I made
myself across, a life
spent wandering in haste,
wondering just how
your salt would taste.

darkness,
*he doesn’t want it
the silence, stillness
the vacuum, emptiness
that comes with it
he doesn’t want it
then there comes
a little spark of light
that slowly radiates
more than the sun
could ever shine
so he chooses it
well, what can i do
bright lights are blinding

I saw you yesterday
Smiling from ear to ear
You were so happy
Because you were with her.

My tears cascaded from my face
The hue of my eyes lost its vibrance
All because you;
You were happy with her.
You are happy. You are.

I wasn't your happiness
I finally realized that
The moment I saw you
Pierced my heart like a million solid dust.

If sensation is not perception
I demand to see what you have seen
before my eyes met yours,
before my feet stumbled
across the hands of yours.
before my voice played
along the sound of yours
and your feet passed on all the routes
for me forever left unseen.