White-grey skies encapsulate
an overgrown fir tree
and tightly curled cat

I am not happy
Except for moments of
mindfulness

******* in the darkness
Rapid conversation
A walk outside
Beautiful songs about loss

Everything feels out of focus,
When we're not in the same room.
Spinning smiles of the hopeless,
Grip your words like an heirloom.

abundant whiskey
clashing teeth
highlighted magenta
I'd like to kiss ya

11:11 stamps your wrist
babe-
it's your cologne I missed
But quiet, this love's second rate
And I'm always one minute late

Red plastic beneath my thighs
Brick against my back
I'm thinking about home.

A chilly New York pool
to Oregon's straw meadows
to cicada wings
sounding loudly this Oklahoma night.

Home has never been a place.

a piece of glitter stuck to my cheek
coffee steam in a crowded lecture hall
tipsy strolling past street lights
a splotched paint palette.

Moments that piece together
in a fashion that transitions
with the moon.

My gaze is set
on a dim crossroad
And I wonder where I'll bring
Home next

You say we’re at two different points
in life
So I imagine you there
While I am here

I see us sipping morning coffee
By a black desk
Furrowed brows
As we set new bills aside

Straining eyes studying
Used textbooks
I see you take medicine
And check my pinned photo
While I linger in sheets
I chose for you

You say we’re different
But I say we’re intertwined

Please check my photo one last time
Because I keep seeing you
Each point of me
Running parallel for us

it's been 22 days since we last spoke. 1 month and 2 days since you decided we shouldn't be together anymore.
     I'm ashamed about how long it's been, that so much time could pass without the earth shattering.
     I never expected you to come back running. I know that when you make decisions, you make them concretely. My shame is in living each day normally, although you aren't here anymore.
     A little over a month--that's how long it took me to tell you I loved you.
     Do you think of me too?
     Because it's been 1 month and 2 days, and all I can say is, "I still love you".

We own a black loveseat
I hear you wonder, “Do you still love me?”
There is no doubt in my touch
I pull you in, night after night
And we never drink alone.

Cup my face, hold my waist
I like the way you ask how I’m feeling

A record humming
Occupied guest room
And small swirls collecting in my chest
Our clasped hands knock down city lights
We take pleasure in the bursting sparks

Cup my face, hold my waist
I like the way you ask how I’m feeling

I’m happy at my day job
But I’m happier with you
You curl into me,
So I don’t wonder about the future.

And we never let go of the black loveseat


…Boston