There is this moment in the morning, this short, sweet period of time where you haven’t yet woken up but aren’t really asleep. Where your memories have not come crashing down on you like a thunderstorm yet and you can fool yourself for a few seconds.
It is at this time where I forget that you no longer love me.
It is at this time where my heart feels safe.
It is at this time where in my mind I am still your sky and you are still my stars.
I want to live in that time.
I remember once, before everything got so messed up, I looked into your eyes and thought “****, you have never loved a hurricane before. I am going to break your heart.”
You broke mine.
I overestimated myself and underestimated you.
You are the hurricane, the Milky Way that is scattered across your pale silky skin shines brighter than I ever could.
And although I always refer to myself as fire I have forgotten what it feels like to be burnt to the ground.

I have grown rather fond of being alone
I have found myself to be sublime company
I like to be secluded
In a dimly lit apartment
With a blanket
And a kettle
With tea
And a book
And my thoughts of course
And I am somewhat of a brilliant conversationalist
But occasionally there dawns a time
When I have run out of clever things to say
To myself
And I have finished every book
And drunken all the tea
And then there comes a moment
When I am significantly less fond of being alone
And I miss you

I pick you up in my hand
A red apple from the cart
I turn you over and run my hands along your curves
I see your beauty
I see it speckled with imperfections
Red so deep
Like crimson
You look so sweet
But there is much you could be hiding
I toss you in the air
and catch you
I see the sun reflect off your polished surface
I see your dark spots absorb the sun
I twist your stem and take it
I smell your skin
and estimate your circumfrence
All around me they are filling their bags
to be measured
piling them full
taking so many of you without a second thought
But I have many thoughts
I wonder
and I wonder
Who you are really
I don't see you like they see you
I don't know you like they think they do
I'm not like them
at all
Are you what I am looking for?
Oh, small red apple
Will you show me who I am?
Will you help me or harm me?
Will you liberate me or cage me?
Will I find in you my identity?
Are you what I truly want?
Perhaps I will buy you,
or
Perhaps I will leave you
or
Perhaps I will continue to hold you and wonder
until we both rot away.

Remember those old floral mugs
that we used to have.
I think they are in a box somewhere.
I never really liked them before
but I do now.
So do you think it would be okay
if I brought them with me
when I go?
That is
if I found the box they’re in.
I never really liked them before
but I do now.

I didn't say a word
but it was a race,
     You know?
And on the path in the forest
Switzerland is Germany is Montreal is Home
     and that makes sense.
And the people smile and nod
Smile and say Bonjour
And who among us is fastest?
Who will make it to the top?
I arrive all alone
     and that makes sense.
And the city smiles and nods
Smiles and says Bonjour
And I know,
     You know?
I know how
     Switzerland is Germany is Montreal is Home
And nothing has ever been more clear
Than that fact, and the wind at the top of Mount Royal, and the diamond breath that left my lungs, and the diamond sweat that left my brow
So I smile and nod
Smile and say Bonjour
Because Home is Montreal
                           is Germany
                           is Switzerland
              and that makes sense.

Oh, she’s a killer
A knife-shaped *****
She’ll rip through your guts
In the rain-stained
Metro station
Down-town east-end
Blood spills on the bathroom floor
And she just smiles
Beautiful
And familiar
Walking along
Coffee in hand
Going to work
When she hits you fast
Black arrow to the eye-brow without warning
Stamped in the carpet
Cigarette-**** burned and bruised
And just when you thought you could be ok
**** you, Nostalgia!
You know just how to play me
Just where to slice me
All the right words
At all the wrong times
I’m a sucker for your curved blade
I wear your scars and curse your name
Nostalgia
**** me quietly
I am always, only, ever yours.

Four old friends
Dead of winter small town
Germany.
Smoke rising from chimneys
From cigarettes, and pipes
From trains riding the rural rails
From city spires
And factories
From airplanes
Airplanes
and Airplanes,
From Airplanes.
Smoke dancing and laughing
Stinging and coughing
Smoke in my hair and jacket
In the pores of my skin
Smoke in my eyes,
Up the hill
And through the woods
Dead of winter
Small town Germany
Four old friends
Walk two by two
Three by one
Four and four.
Walk by the church,
Down the creek,
Up the hills, the hills
And through the woods
Small town
Germany four old friends
Dead of winter
Cigar smoke and beer
Cigarillos in a chain
Smoke from crystalizing breath
And fireworks
Smoke from bonfires
And tailpipes
Smoke from airplanes
Airplanes and airplanes
Smoke from airplanes.
Smoke stains and cigarette burns
Little circles in my jacket
Germany
Four old friends dead of winter
Small town
Smoke tears
Smoke promises
Smoke memories that linger
Like the faint nausea
Of what-the-hell-has-happened.
I watch the **** end of your last cigarette
Crumpled and fading
In the ashtray of that Badischer bar
And your eyebrow twitched
The heart-wrenching shiver
Of what-the-hell-has-happened.
And I whispered:
(airplanes)
airplanes and airplanes
I whispered airplanes.
That’s what the hell.

Last good-bye


Sitting here, I can't help but stare.
Your lifeless body just sits there.
Your lips are in a line.
You don't open your eyes.

All around you people cry,
Children stare with wide eyes,
As your you body lies there,
With your daughter by your side.

I look to my right,
Was met with curious  eyes.
Tears steamed down my cheeks.
"Why does everyone cry?" he asked.

I sighed, trying to hide the sadness from my voice as I tried explain to his six years old ears.

After sitting there for what felt like years.
His tiny hand grabbed mine as he dragged me up to our uncles side,
I forced out between my cries
My last good-bye.