the end
drew me back to
the unknown
into grey matter
before anything turns
I ran away,
I took all of them
as if all memories are to throw

renewing the thoughts
deleting the past
saved on my camera roll -
your crystal clear candid shots
into sleepless metaphors
the nights you stole

with our brief barely breathing history
time seemed to align
where it flew
I was not sure how it went
the drinks, the laughs
those that came out our lungs

and the gust of sighs where i lost my mind
with our touching eyesights
we began

the walls you've built -
they are all falling
i can feel the crumbs and blocks
between
each kiss you called
accidents

I miss the rushing of words
that my fingers have troubles typing them all.
I miss the unending spree of thoughts
my mind cannot fathom one at a time,
but what I miss the most
is the touch of you
in every left-aligned poetry
your face reflects
transfixing all of me
stealing my own
memory of what
real beauty is.

I don’t want to be your weekend getaway, babe.

I want to be

the reason
you can’t get up on a Monday,
the struggle to let go
of a night we shared together

the coffee break on a Tuesday afternoon
keeping you awake,
warm, and alive

the paper cut from all the pile of work
of your Wednesday night,
as the pain reminds you
of how it hurts
not to be with me

the suit you prepare for a meeting,
or an occasion you wish
to be wearing beside a red-dress wearing woman
your arm wrapped behind her waist
on a numb Thursday

and that bottle of beer you've been drinking on
a Friday evening, with a hundred people around
you search for me,
but I’m inside your grip,
and inside each of your thoughts

not just your weekend getaway.

(jacky)