some nights he wonders
why his fingers are
lonely branches in the
breeze, why no thing nor
person is tight around his
waist, why his college acceptance
rate is a charming 1%.
he knows it is just a
mirror — he walks
closer anyway and
pretends he's in love,
says it won't be like
this, that only he'll love himself
forever, that only glass
separates them; he believed
every word, so he leans
forward and kisses those
cold lips tasting of
breath, musk and never;
the universe was cruel but
this was nice, he thought.
he left his lover without
saying goodbye, knowing
someone would always be
waiting for him.

Living isn't enough; every
breath is an appreciation
of the divine that winds our
hearts. Every second is a new
miracle that fits neatly in our
palms: many of us hide them in
pockets. I've discovered the
electric charges hidden in our
fingertips—how a touch can spark
life and transform us into something
more. We're here in this moment
together, our souls written in the
present tense. Kiss me into the
earth, letting me feel the curves of your
rivers. That's all I ask of a name.

the way sweat
lingers on my
eyelids makes
me wonder if the
sun loves us all too
much. the world is
a crowd and he is
not a river—just a
hailstone tailed by
blue. twice a week
my eyes watch for
opportunities encrypted
in that spiral pattern; i've
only seen it's crystal
shadow. my light shines;
i love too hard;
the sky begins to drip
while I gaze; we melt; i
wish i could be moon.

fall to pieces on the
carpet, disembodied
fragments, pretty pink
petals making messages
as they waltz with air
particles, spinning in
cyclones oscillating in
orbits before landing a
curtsy on the cotton,
each shard of us a
miracle dancing to
earth song and reverie

i speak from a dark
place but i know light;
i've balanced on the
tightropes of esctasia
and feel the physical
support of tension
kissing my heels—yet
all i do is look beyond
the nets below and
find myself enabling
disaster before one could
ever hold me.

they massacred my
words, little infants,
reduced a family into the
most valuable survivors
to publicize, capitalize
upon, and, once seized,
demolish all tangible
ties to its siblings its
heritage its truth its
web of conversations

love has a language but no
gender; i'm fluent in long
stares into the windows of a
soul, but lately i've been
out of ledges. i kneel beside
the glass and feel the wind
fly flush against the clear
nothing that separates me
from his stormy arrival—
the welcome brewing in my
bones. The minute i find him,
the second his spirit ossifies
into olive skin, the moment
i feel my roads heading some
where that is not my own
darkness, i will capitalize my
i's, enter the unknown and
excavate, feel the rush of the
earth as it spins me in the
cradled grasp of the atmosphere oh
yes; i see him holding up the
horizon, though he looks like the
sun — in time, i will spill into the
sea to meet him at the water's edge.