We have a single nightstand
It is a good, solid nightstand
It has a lamp that gives just enough light
And the surface holds just enough things

We talk about having another nightstand
You know, so maybe we can expand
He agrees that, yes, maybe it'd be good to have another nightstand
We part thinking having a second nightstand is the plan

It'd be brighter
And there would be space to unpack more things
A single nightstand is good
But not enough for two people, it is unequal in the service it brings

I wait to hear his thoughts for the second nightstand
And I keep waiting, starting to question his intent;
But no, he knows. And besides, he said he wanted the second nightstand
And there was no reason to lie about how he felt

I think of reminding him about the second nightstand
You know, the one that would give us just enough room to expand
But turns out that wasn't actually his plan
And all he wanted was the one night stand.

Part of me pines for you.
The practical side tells me to move on.
I don't know what to do, except what I've always done: act like nothing is the matter and stay strong.

I fear though that that might hurt things,
Make it seem to you that I do not care.
But then who knows if this even matters to you?!
I'm probably stupid and foolish to think this will all work out fair.

And there I was laying, my head in his lap. And there he was looking like some sort of Buddha. That's how it went, with me looking up and him looking down. That moment summarized everything we were. I aspired to his level, respect, superiority; he tried to change my ways. There were times when I believed in his power, his creed, and was avid about it, about him. But there were times I struggled to make sense of it all. Was it really what I wanted and what I stood for? There's a time when you are losing your religion where you still go through the motions for a bit, either from fear of change or in a desperate attempt to regain your former fervor. But eventually going through the motions becomes a chore, and then there isn't a Buddha anymore.

The drink
To drink?
No drink.

She drinks and is happy, elated;
She doesn't drink, she cries;

She drinks, she lies;
She doesn't drink, she dies;

The drink
To drink?
No drink- do the right thing and believe in tomorrow;
Tomorrow might just relieve the sorrow.

Bright and shining
Golden yellow all over
She's a dancer swaying with the light and breeze
A force to be reckoned with
Contained, she's pleasurable and warm
Mesmerizing to watch.
Unrestrained she can bring down cities
scorch you to the core
Always feeding on something
She's a death trap, she'll eat you alive
And she'll just keep going
It's what she has to do to survive.
So many think they know her
They have seen her do her work
Yet she is a mystery- a fascination to all who have ever encountered her.
Who is she?
What makes her able to add sparkle to a room,
Romance to an evening,
Dread to the eerie situation,
Confidence in the dark?
So malleable yet so strong
She is a dancer
She is a fire