You're swirling in embered light
Gravity breathing out of your pores
I am a comet, burning ice in my wake
And you are the sol I come too close to

If I could breathe anything, it would be lilies
If you could hate anything, it would be air
You are so bright that when I close my eyes
I can see nothing but feathered fire

At the center of the universe, there's a tree of souls
Eris and Phobias collect its molt
They rain it down through the smog 'till it shatters on concrete
I watch as you catch it on your tongue

I found you on the drenched roof
Pale and glowing and still
Stars clinked in the sky with a diamond jangle
One had fallen, burrowing under your skin

And you told me you were sick with trying
And you told me that it hurt to burn
And you were cold and apathetic
You were you, but not the one that knew me

You flamed and flamed and flamed and flamed
You crashed and told no one at all
I miss you and I love you
Though you shine so differently now

If you are uncomfortable when you look in the mirror,
keep in mind:
We spent thousands of years
trying to convince the earth
she was flat.

We wrote her maps as evidence of the things we saw;
and she believed them.
She cried tsunamis, and had earthquake breakdowns.

Keep in mind: the Sun never gave up hope.
The earth will keep spinning and breathing
the star-dusty space void of encouragement.

Next time you look in the mirror
and second-guess your potential divinity,
remember you will keep shining and living.

Because the Sun is out there
believing in you,
compensating for lack of the human capacity
to treat each other empathically.

You don’t need proof or approval
to be exactly what you are;
Eventually everyone will see
your infinite beauty.

Use the
hot water
to burn
his touch
off your
crying skin.

                                   Fog up
                                   the bathroom
                                   the same
                                   way that
                                   he fogged  
                                   up your
                                   unhinged mind.

                                                                         Drain your
                                                                         bathtub just
                                                                         as colours
                                                                         have drained
                                                                         from your
                                                                         bland existence.  

Pour water down the same patterns that his fingers drew on your spine.

Some people think
So much about dying
They forget in their lives
They are living

Some people live
So much for their lives
They forget, in time,
They’re going to die.

Some people end the lives of others,
Symbolically or literally
Some, the former initially,
And the latter not much after.

Some people decide to end the lives
Of their flesh, blood, the essence of themselves...
Some say that is the only sin
An all-loving God could never forgive.

Some die before they live.
Some half-way through existence
Most live before they die
But some die to live again, they try

Some die as children, untouched by shame or corruption
Some die with children, hearts swollen with the love their lives taught them
Some pass in their sleep, life with only regrets
Or not a trace of them at all

I suppose I cannot say.
But,
Answer this, if I may ask
When the time comes,

In your place to bask,
When you are about to die
Can you be sure that, once,
You had truly been alive?