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Happiness
Is too safe,
Too ordinary.

It deprives me of my verses.
Of years gone past.
Of the parallel universes.
Of the mirror ones
where second chances are available,
as well as butterfly effects.

This world is so ordinary
it isn't capable
of giving my desire to me.
I'm enjoying it.
I'm delighted.
I actually revel in it,
like a regular human being.
To S, for the first time.
So, I went to our old place
Days after you flew back to the US.
And all I can think of
are the various ways
to brace myself.

Then I opened the door.
Then I smelled us.

And that was life
this afternoon
here in the Asia Pacific
in our old place

with all our dreams
and all our books
and our tiny bed.
To Nick, whom I met here in Hello Poetry, and who traversed the world, with autumn leaves, to be me.
Been trying to drink a glass every round
because there is nothing left
in my stomach.

Hurts.
Because I wanted to try a classic method,
I bought some wine.

As I foster my alcoholism,
Edgar Allan Poe
please hold my hand.
Cheers to sleep deprivation!
Nicholas.

In the middle of my thoughts
You arrived in blaze and found
The remnant of my drunken, bleeding heart.

You were relentless
In pursuit of re-existence
From ashes and fragmented hopes

That exhausted afternoon
At scorching 4 o’clock
In the corner of the room

On the creases and the pillows
We shed our clothes
And re-assembled eternity.
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