Creased lines in your cancer bed sheets
and red wine spills still remain
from that time you celebrated
your chemotherapy success.

Drug-blue cocktails were swapped
for beers from cans,
needles for straws and hospital-stock-
comfortable-armchairs for the advertised sofa in your part furnished floor.

Friends came with warm welcomes prepared
in the back of taxis coming from the city,
they came in wide eyed staring,
holding wine bottles remembering your once real wig of hair.

A low monotone ‘snip snip snip'
Drooping heads as in slumber deep
The mirrors reflect telling it all
The shedded strands quietly fall.

Goes on the buzz ‘snip snip snip'
Are they awake or in deep sleep?
Getting off-loaded here's no hike
Lines of souls sit vampire-like.

No one speaks it's nobody's call
Heads mildly roll, tissues fall
Shrouded white from world disguised
The snipper's spells have them hypnotized.

The stupor breaks once ends the ride
A cruel world is waiting outside
The spell was so short, it's a pity
Time again for reality!

Endless whispers make way, layered beneath star-lit skies,
The sounds formed in blissful flirtations, as tiny secrets composed of love…
Like the apex of an overture, encompassed by a standing applause –
An ode to the dedication of a honed craft, melded in artistic perfection,
We are but fireflies dancing in the darkened fields of life…
Illuminating sparks of matter, stretching our wings t’wards the heavens,
Each flutter of our ascension striking a beautiful chord,
A precise note of enchanted color, displayed ‘cross grass covered earth –
It is in this place we understand our magnificence,
Molded by those colors and sounds of feelings…
It is in those moments we found our immortality,
Created by the hearts of hopeless romantics and starving artists –
Defined by the words found beyond omission…
As if casted in series, structured in sentences of diaries and journals,
We are now infinite, our sculpted myth and legend etched in timelessness,
Our love forever told of its immaculate beauty –
We are…

I want so much to not want you.
It's safe to say I'm addicted to you.
A stranger, that I need to withdraw from.
But I'm a ****** and I need my fix.
You're in short supply, I try the other drugs and baby they don't gimme the rush you do.
I wake up wanting a hit, go to bed with the sweats.
I lean my head back and drink you, and feel you going down my throat, with tears in my eyes.
Lay back down, high as ******* you.

It is in those broken moments we find ourselves,

Torn to pieces, with no explanation –

A dark crevasse molded to fit our shape,

Holding our deepest thoughts, encasing our forgotten spirit,

We tend to allow ourselves to be encompassed by this abyss –

Explaining to ourselves the need to dwell on the darkened past,

Swallowed by its projection of memories,

Sprayed upon the walls of our mind like murals –

An endless catacomb of images, seemingly permanent in their manifestation…



It is in those broken moments, that we find ourselves.

Seemingly unbearable days, leading to sleepless nights,

Dreading the thoughts that creep their way to our dreams –

Resting in an endless adaptation of our subconscious,

Playing out their roles, as if upon a Shakespearian stage…

Each thought, acting its part with tragic precision,

Layer upon layer, scene upon scene…

Reaching back to grasp our inception of reality –

Griping its contents, and strangling the ideas to exhaustion; gasping…



It was in those broken moments, that we found ourselves,

With a weighted world pressed firmly upon our chest,

The ebbing soil began to crumble –

Giving light to the somber path traversed…

Filling the now hollow crevasse with purpose and meaning,

Each memory defined by the silver lining expressed in love –

The fleeting darkness, swallowed by the over-whelming feeling of home…

Finding it in the simplicity of a kiss, and the certainty of an embrace,

It is here that we find ourselves,

In the intricate details and delicate idiosyncrasies –