so happy anniversary
of yesterfray

when I peripherally laid
my eyes on you

the day I
didn't believe
because why???

it didn't compute
so my brain pushed it
away away away

because how
could you find it so easy
to replace me and ricochet
between four arms that were
not me

that was my logic:
if you loved me, if it meant
- anything ever -

you wouldn't have
made those decisions
like a haphazard hellbat
rattling off the tracks

so it was
quite obvious
I was just hallucinating
just pasting my aching heart
onto some random guy
who was oddly
not dancing

the truth is deep
and I'm trying to not
have you OD but I think
it's time to increase your dosage
and we're getting closer
closer still to
a mouthful

and one demispoon is
I noticed you the instant
you hit my periphery
maybe 15 feet away

I guess by noticed
I mean my stomach
did a nosedive down
through my intestines
resounding repetition
internal to the tune of
this isn't happening

as you made your way
in front of me

I was petrified
losing my mind
it made no sense

but that feeeeling
had your name
beating down
my lips

and I even pondered
tapping you on the shoulder
to ask something as asinine as
do I know you?

so, here comes
another serum dose

it wasn't until I was
contemplating the potentials
of reactions by you
or not-you

that I remembered
I wasn't alone -
I was, how you say...
with someone?

and maybe you can relate a bit
to how I could possibly find
myself in that situation
so quick

dear Watson, I can certainly now
understand how easy it in fact is
to fall into the arms of someone
you have history and unfinished
karmic business with

when you're
so alone and lonely
feeling lost and hungry
for connection you bypass
all the utterly obvious
ill-fitting cardboard edges
that aren't even the same image
and just focus on the one or two
that click right in, so comforting it is
to walk down the same old street
even though you already know
how and where it ends

it was certainly
a welcome distraction
from picking glass splinters
out of crippled crimson fingers

and now I understand
how you did what you did
and that is why I came back
again...

because it took me that long
to let go of feeling
unloved

and realize
you did

I’m used to spending holidays
In the company of friends and lovers
The other day there was no other
Not even a hint of my little brother

I stood in a crowd of perfect strangers

Alone.

The sky was filled with twinkling lights.
All around the booms resounded.
People laughed and time slipped past.
I settled in

To watch,
To listen,
To taste,
To touch...

Inside my mind, I missed her touch,
Her laugh,
Her warmth,
Her smile,
Her love...

There on the trail beside the lake
I tasted all the happy sounds;
The scent of charcoal, blackened meat
The laughs of children, light of feet

Flowers bloomed in the fading sky.
Waves rolled easy on the sandy shore.
The moon rose high to greet the night.
While the stars lay hidden…twinkling.

All caught up in the sights and sounds
I pondered there for quite awhile
Behind these eyes the thoughts did fly
I cannot lie, I wanted more…

…To feel the sand between my toes,
Her hand in mine,
Our thoughts entwined.
To linger on that pleasant shore
And share our time forevermore.

But the past takes flight and now it’s gone.
Daylight drives away the night.
The sun shines bright;
My thoughts are light.
The blues have flown
With the red and white.

This is where we first met, on a blank page slowly filled with ink.
I wrote my words with you on my mind
and you read them with a peculiar style and grace,
as if reading were some soporific artform,
elbow on table, hand on temple, hunched forward,
leaning towards the paper as if the words
somehow became smaller the more you concentrated.
The first time I watched you read, you looked like a painting,
my hand slowly drawing brushstrokes in the air,
swiping your hair, blotting your cheeks, unfolding your eyes.

This is where we last met, an inked sheet washed clean with holy water.
Like shaking a Polaroid, you slowly appeared
but your image faded until just the outline remained.
I was only ever interested in what lay within that line,
the shape of your heart, the light in your eyes,
the soft glint of dew on your eyelashes when you were in pain.
A prophet came to me and told me he could resurrect you
but I saw there was no ink left in his pen,
his pencil blunt and his image of you was blurry,
seeing you through the cataracts of someone else’s memories.

This is not the time in history to be raising the dead,
they belong where they belong because that’s where they need to be.
My words would mean nothing if you were here,
reading in that manner I wrote about so much.
This is the table where I write your name out of nothing.
This is where we first met, a blank page slowly filled with ink.