There's a difference between being with someone, and loving someone.

There's a difference between having a place to sleep at night, and having a home.

There's a difference between being lonely,
and being alone.

They're pushing you to do it-
To finish what you started.
They're giving suggestions and making edits.
Performing audits.
They're saying,
"Maybe if you just changed the wording here, the theme there, the meaning throughout, added more heart to it."

It's clear, and to be honest,
They care about it more than you ever did.

i've grown accustomed to having no one in my room.
i've learned to love the shade of my curtains.
mom gave them to me since i kept waking up earlier than when i should have
and that my eyes adjusts hastily on the light that felt
burning, heating, loathing.

what a span of three years does to a man.
but a force in my subconscious drove my hands and feet
i finally tied my curtains.

i let the dust settle in
like an unwanted foreign aunt on vacation
but i was taught to be hospitable.
the despicable sunlight seeped in fastly
and there was this hug that i felt

like my mom the week before chemotherapy
she always said it felt as if
her mother was looking over.
a guiding hand, she feels.

maybe this is what i was missing in my mornings.

so, i welcomed it.
i'm glad i tied my curtains today.

150 years ago was the 1870s

Namaste señoras,
          namaste

and it says plenty
enough now
placed ahead
of a breathing soul

what odd limbo
to be drenched in
though a *****
of expectation

makes a private
red welt
or silent sinking
for your second best

I'll take you up
on your suggestion
to dance
in spring meadows

and even if our feet
are bare we'll wear
silly smiles
on our faces

because it's this
we must remember
when the days thaw to blue
and melt to black

the ignition of a touch
familiar as a pulse
young spinning tops
in the parentheses of our love

The choice you have made

is the heart of the matter:


your free will, acting.