“come to me,” he said. in this hospital ward, we are all plagued by the same fate. there he sits, writing us off one by one; a cancer in his own right.

“come to me,” he said. the doctors remind me that the bright lights are harsh on any skin tone, and mine is no exception.

“come to me,” he said. will it hurt? will it be like dreaming?

“come to me,” he said. you’ve already taken so many. why do I have to be one of them? why now?

“come to me,” he said. I don’t want to leave; I never want to leave. regardless, he will be the second cancer to take me.

“come to me,” he said. it was time.

I give in to the silence because it will be my home longer than the twelve year’s I’ve spent chasing the sun.

gas stations and vintage t shirts
and never saying “die,” I think
you stole the sun’s shine with
the sparkle in your eyes.

it’s a **** good thing that I’ll never kiss you,
because I think that my heart
would jump out of my chest.

I never believed in any sort of higher power,
but when I saw the color of your eyes, I thought
that, just maybe, I was wrong all along.

“fear thou not,” I whispered as she put on her makeup. she was just as beautiful without it, but she didn’t believe it.

“fear thou not,” I whispered as she slipped on the red dress. she decides that the red of the fabric will soak up the red of her blood and all will be well.

“fear thou not,” I said as her mother told her that she’d see her later. little did she know, this was the last time that she’d see her daughter’s bright fleeting eyes: wide open and sparkling against the summer sun.

“fear thou not, I bellowed as she climbed to the top of her apartment complex. as she admired the pretty Portland sunset, I thought, just for a moment, that she might change her mind.

“fear thou not,” I bellowed as she breathed in for the very last time. she must hear me. she has to hear me. why isn’t she listening?

“fear thou not,” I whispered into the wind as she fell into the infinite nothingness that would soon become her. I tried my best. heaven knows you can’t save them all. my right hand can’t hold her anymore.

Her eyes,
Like many others,
Are the color of a turbulent sea
Her voice,
Like many others,
Is gentle, yet forceful at the same time
Her words,
Like many others,
Bring kindness and laughter to the world
Her thoughts,
Like many others,
Are full of demons that she rarely shows
Her mind,
Like many others,
Is a medley of music and poems
Her heart,
Like many others,
Sits squarely in the right place

The little things about her,
Individually,
Are nothing special
But by some act of serendipity
They have coalesced
And I am thankful every day that they did

You are so much more than a collection of adjectives
You are my best friend (and probably my soul mate)

there’s a long list of boys that she will kiss
by the end of October, **** on her tongue
before you even learn their names.