I remember the sound
                        of your September sorrow
Letters roaming the distance that stretched between us
Your words a constant companion to the coming cold
My lips wished every day to greet yours come morning
The scent of lavender and mint drifting through our room
Sunlight pouring gently over your distinct features
A heart full of love shining softly in your eyes
As you wake up to my warmth next to you
Some day your scrolled worship reads
I will be closer
                                            No more wishing
Folding your letters again and again as I pull them out to revisit
The gentle longing I can still feel in their varied stains of ink
            Give me a reason and I won't break down
Is the last line of the first one you sent
Still haunting and hopeful
          We have so much more to give
So much more in store 
*Some day soon

A morning flower                                                 
A heavy morning rainfall
Oh, eternity

Raindrops at rooftop
A stream in my consciousness
Pond of emptiness

We were misfits
the neglected *******
of a backwards world
that rejected us
not because we were sick
demented or dangerous
but because we didn't prescribe
to a preconceived notion
of what a functioning citizen was.

Not rotten enough to spoil
behind the bars of a prison
just competent enough
to work menial jobs
and drown our sorrows
at the corner pub.

We swallowed this hard truth
the same way we drank our shots
with no chaser
and at times it burnt
maybe even made us tear up
but we never let it beat us
(too strong for that)

We were beautiful
resilient beasts
that could carry the weight
of the world upon our shoulders
and it was heavy
but we would tell ourselves
"doesn't every world need an atlas?"
so we went on holding up the sky
when no one asked it of us.