We always joked that we wouldn't be **** buddies.
Anything involving *** will not work for an asexual.
We'd be cuddle buddies.
The second we'd meet up, we'd hug and cuddle.
We wouldn't do as most long distance 'couples' would.
We'd just cuddle.
Maybe I could finally fall asleep.
Something's changed between then and now.
You've changed.
When you stopped caring, I'm not sure.
But you did.
You stopped caring about me and that's okay.
Something got in between us.
Not just distance
I still can't help but think how nicely our bodies tessellated.
Even with 1047 miles between us.

How do you say goodbye to someone you can not live without?

Loved you like sunshine loves earth as it spins,
touched you as softly as shades feel your skin,
kissed you as much as seabirds grace the sea,
talked with you easier than the closest twins,
viewed you as a desert sees water beads,  
needed you as much as trees do their leaves,  
held you with care, as a nest keeps its egg,  
hugged you a lot, like a fruit does its seeds,  
thought of you as highly as sky can be,    
trusted you like birds have faith on the wind,
waited for you like gardens long for spring,  
yet you turned me into old memory.

Laundry spinning and the humming of
other tenants.
I am drinking wine again.
There is a pattern.
Don't let anyone tell you differently.
The world is made up of shape and sounds and colors and
clocks ticking towards the end of another day.
If this poem is depressing I am sorry.
My sincerest apology to the past and the future.
The present isn't looking for another sin.
Always genuflect before entering this house,
the owner watches.
Do what makes you happy and
watch the TV fade to another show.
Yesterday the curtains refused to open,
the weight of the world is on their shoulders.
Forget the candles burning,
hot with anxiety and
go to sleep.
Frame the world in dark wood and ask the God,
any God,
for strength.
Laundry spinning and I rock in the chair,
thinking of eternity and how mice fit through such small holes.
Flip the channel.
Pull back the sheets.
This could very well be the end.
No mints on the pillows,
no courtesy calls.
I'll let you be the judge today and remember the shapes of clouds.

My left hand has poerrty
My right hand doesn’t know about.

Out of the night that covers me,
      Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
      I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
      My head is ******, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
      Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
      Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
      How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
      I am the captain of my soul.