in the quiet hours
I told you to go and you said no
taking up the space for yourself

a sloth begging for a branch
squeezing imaginary flora
that was no longer there
until your hands gave out

time enough for me to meet
strangers on a deck
find my body
everywhere it could stand
see every dead end

I escaped to a string light backyard
where I heard words I’ve never heard
murmured under songs I didn’t know

they liked my scent
in the quiet hours

I used to think I was a gardener
sowing lifelong seeds
pruning the leaves to ensure
I had the pleasure to grow old with them

I learned my precious plants
can choose to leave
I even learned they knew
how to wilt themselves into the dirt
I watched as nature took some before they even bore their fruit for me to see

I used to think I was a gardener
but I am just the sexton
to their graves

turqoise and bright spins on the ceiling
while i pack the uncomfortable thoughts
into the comforter we don’t share
tucking another day into “waiting”

i read more romance than ever
fantasizing about being touched again
my late intimacy lay in bed beside me

i got you everything you wanted
are you happy?

Early on I knew we were not suitable
But still I grasped for every moment with you
Water for a thirsty desert traveler

I followed you on a journey that went nowhere
If only just to walk with you

Parallel lines never touch
But they never leave each other, either

hey

hi

can you hear me?

I think your video is off but yes

okay

task one

item three

did that just happen?

earnings call tonight

I voted during lunch, too

task five

item eleven

what happens now?

I’ll share my screen, can you read it okay?

glad we’re almost done with the project

what happens next?

I pick up
he screams, I don’t know what
he threatens, he spins thread
I plead. I say sorry, I don’t know why

“have you taken your medication?”
wrong question, wrong time

I receive a list of tasks to perform before sundown
1. remove these friends
2. admit to these things
3. give up my dreams
3. …give up me

swallowed by the waves, never to be seen
smiling when he chose me

he doesn’t take his shirt off anymore
he never really liked to, but now he never does
“I’m sagging. I have wrinkles,” he says through beautiful crows feet and a sad grimace wrapped by dimples lengthened through smiling as hard as he lived
once, he was young
messy, poor-intentioned, headstrong, mean
when his smile lines started staying
it was new

are you ashamed you became an antidote?
or that you were once poison?