If we meet again
and I think we will
maybe in another lifetime
you won’t remember
what you did to me.
Not the breaking,
not the silence,
not the way I begged with eyes you never understood.

And still,
I’ll try find you.

I’ll walk through the lives I’m given
searching for the shape of your hands,
the way your voice hesitates before lying.
I’ll know it,
even in another language.


Some loves aren’t meant to be safe
just permanent.
Etched into the soul
like a name we forget
but still flinch at when it’s spoken.

But if I catch a glimpse of you
on a crowded street
or in the eyes of a stranger
I’ll stop.
I’ll look.
And I’ll let my heart break
all over again.

Because loving you
was never a choice.
It was a sentence
I accepted
lifetimes ago.

I’ll look for you
Even in places
I know you aren’t.

Because love like this,
doesn't just die
even when we do.

i fear
that folded
slip with my
father’s stages
chronicled
in fading
script and
quiet list
of my
mother’s
final
condiments,
whatever
might make
death taste
less bitter
i don’t
want grief
to tear
anything
our parting
should be
like clouds
drifting in
shear
soft and
undramatic.