i didn't know how angry
a scar could be until i saw
one on myself it was something
like a pocket-sized chilean coast
dragged across my knee disrupting  
and hills still dispersing as an acl
torn but unseen like how the many
excerpts of dreams were wiped clean
the anger is always ephemeral but
it always comes back whenever
i want to feel breeze in hair perhaps
i just miss the delaware river scene
and a long ago when my pencils
moved too quickly for my thoughts
yes indeed maybe i just miss loving
the journey not for the end like the
part where i did not know anything yet
still believed that it was all for the better

i sit and watch you and wait like a dog
always just two steps behind you and
always just begging you for scraps

as if two seconds of your attention
would be enough to fill my empty, empty stomach
as if two mere seconds would ever be enough

but you can't even give that-
my friends say i'm too nice and you just call out my name
and when i see that familiar self-satisfied smile on your face

i just become a bad liar and i just look the other way
and i go back to pretending like your bare minimum
is enough to fix my bellyache

passports, abstracts, and cigarettes
i swear it was all just for the aesthetics
thin walls, smoke screens, and window tints
we crawled through one just for the hell of it

it's nineteen and nose rings, i got asked for an id
we're twenty-one in jersey, you like my con artistry
i borrowed a street sign and failed to book an uber ride
everything is so much messier than i would've liked

i tired of people pleasing, and you never reply
we don't really need to talk about it
i try my best to not really think about it
said that i'm conceited, hedonistic, manipulative

but some nights i just want to drink until i start to lie
see, if coping was a job and paid an hourly wage
i'd be working overtime, id have a career drive
and i'd be a millionaire after six shots, or maybe five

my mom called, i cried by the dhall, on facetime
been thinking about how lucky we are to be alive
even if to deal with mornings and swollen eyes
even if dad's always on the night shift, even with
this big rift caused by the distance and the lack of time
just because we made out once doesn't mean you're mine
i got glimpses of a pink top, my blanket of a jacket
i bet it would look classier if you were wearing it
but you're distant and cold and partying is getting old
i'm forever out of polaroid film and cheap distractions
so i took an amtrak home, straight from south station
the flight back to boston was short but still exhausting
and when i walk home alone, the silence is unsettling
seems we're both better than i thought at method acting

my friends are all laughing
and the weather has been kind
i am about halfway to happy

and it is okay if i look utterly
atrocious in every picture
you've taken of me

i hate my smile with passion
and almost all of the time
but i like to think that

my smile is most
beautiful and genuine
when it is mirrored

by yours

drunk kissing blurry faces under neon lights
i'm sorry that your party had to end with a fight
but that creep was overstepping everywhere tonight

after sharing reservations about people getting high
your friend won't stop asking for my marly lights
these cigs for aesthetics are going to ruin our lives

debrief time: your parents argue, divorce is in sight
romance is everywhere, you're convinced that i'm blind
hey, out of curiosity, have you ever wished on a satellite?

someone i know was stuck in singapore
when her father passed away in china
and lately, i think i've developed a fear
of flying, but for all of the wrong reasons

so while others' stomachs perform flips and
all the engines and babies incessantly whine
and while someone worries about their own death
i sit, wholly at peace with the possibility of mine

but still terrified for everything after you drop me off
i am so terrified to just board this plane and fly away
every time i have to turn and leave home again
i am terrified it will be the last time i see your face

according to einstein, time is relative
and by the law of jumping to conclusions
this means our lives are inconsequential

so technically, i could spend a forever in jail, or
you could spend a couple years in a hospital bed
and nothing would really matter all

relative to me, however,
one of these situations would be bearable
and the other not so much

i can live with my dumb decisions
like driving too fast for too long or
even ****** for a righteous cause, too

i can survive my self-destructive tendencies
but my world centers itself around you

while all the folks will be off beach-drinking
at ***** cana, or cartagena, or hiking through
a coast and helicoptering blindly into canyons,

i just want to be at home, cooking for you,
studying up new recipes, because i know you
pretend to like my chinese takes on western food

a little more than you actually do; you want me
to be happy, but my happiness stems from your
healing health and your returning appetite, so know:

a smile on your face and a happily-emptied plate
would beat the pride of reaching any himalayan peak
and warm my heart more than any southern sun or beach

to love me like how you love your
cheap hmart wine, to sentimentally sip
at me until you are tipsy and having a
good time; and if i have nothing more to
give, set my empty self on a distant shelf—
forever is a paradise, even if to only ever
hear your laughter from the sidelines

i wanted to write like josé olivarez,
to love, plain and simple, and to let
the light in, shamelessly, for all to see

but she wanted a t.s. eliot, maybe a surrealist
portrait, or a picasso to my pissarro, and a tiptoe
around the elephants, for a look into me, endlessly

as if always in search of some deeper, divine meaning,
we parted our ways, but now i no longer feel like me
i have lost my rhythm, though i have not stopped reading

i fall into ignorance; i am called out for perfunctories; so
other than a casual fear of forevers, i now also know: my love
tastes like cheap prose, and an atrophied fondness of writing

i wince because you wanted me
to love you tenderly and tirelessly,
but tragically for you, all you ever did

was waste my precious time. so, sure,
you can twist my words, do it for
your own self-assurance, but i will

note yours down accurately, for my
own sanity and art; i can handle being
publicly contempted, but we both know,

deep down, you are still attempting
to be something you are so clearly not

i hate how you're so utterly perfect
i wonder if other people also notice it
how your scattered freckles mimic the stars
little dipper's tail has made home by your lips

i hate your contagious smile, that look in your eyes
for your perfect boyfriend and his indie rock band
i am no longer myself; i am hopelessly tossing coins
and wishing to hold a constellation in my hand

in the morning, i will feign ignorance,
pretending to be fast asleep and unaware
as you pull on your shirt and socks

we should have been theater concentrators, like,
if we never talk about it, it just never happened
you're just so nonchalant, and i'm just melodramatic

and i'm never satisfied unless it's something tragically comic
so tonight, let's pretend to be enemies, let's become lovers,
let's drown in shared regrets, get too familiar with each other

after all, tomorrow, when we wake, it'll all be over
your missing friends and my crushing hangover
will, once again, inevitably, reduce us to strangers

i fall asleep in the back of ubers, to the sounds
of middle-aged drivers talking to their loved ones
giving advice, the smell of spice, my temple on the window
just playing a mental jeopardy with the meanings behind
those accented words of languages i don't understand
perhaps, once upon a time, i did, but now, no longer

i sleep like a stranger in my own home, climbing
into my bed without caution, with atrophying bones
it's a debilitating exhaustion, it's characteristic of aging
of falling and forgetting about the friendships and benefits
that broke through my bed slats, plus the flash-lit attempts
to fix the unfixable with feminist texts and crumpled cash

i dream about my mother as another, and her neck
remains untouched, perhaps only adorned with pearls
so wide, and so bright, and the garage door is always unlocked
it's comfort, it's nostalgia, it's the furthest i've been from home
and when the radio turns on, i wake to unfamiliar laughter, and
"i miss my dog, and i miss falling in love," and everything's amiss
and all i can do is sit here, tipping a stranger as i reminisce

there's this theory, my mom once told me,
that liars are always reincarnated as dogs
i've been thinking a lot about people dying lately
and i've also started counting time in dog years
according to such, it's been about two long dog decades
i don't miss you anymore, and i'm about done grieving you
(you would've just called me out- i'm a liar through and through)
and i found that if i drink enough, you're still here, well and alive
your mom never cries or loops your old playlists when she drives
your dad never comes over to gift me souvenirs from your life
your sister never learns to shape grief into an essay in one night
no, you're still helping her brainstorm what exactly to write
we stay up together, on facetime, stressing the the entire night
and she chooses premed because of a torn ACL, not a torn family
and we spend hours debating if she should submit her SATs
and grief is only ever-so-distant, yet only oh-so-familiar
we have it our way: it is never more than a recognizable stranger
i write you in present tense, you agree: dogs in our next life
i gaslight, i lose my mind, i'm convinced anything's worth a try-
so, how many poems do you think i have to write
for it to be enough to bring a friend back to life?

perhaps i kept you like a secret, but
you spilled and overflowed into everything i did
lingered oh-so-noticeably, like an expensive perfume
perhaps you left me, but you also left your presence
like coffee stains on my journals, like, despite my wishes
all of your reserved enunciations and misspelled mannerisms
still shadow alongside every line that i reluctantly write
my parents say i am selfish, and perhaps they are right
my friends say this is hopeless, i hate that they're always right
perhaps i still sing about how we were "right person, wrong time"
perhaps i still write about a different us living out a different life
one where getting to love you is still a privilege of mine
perhaps i've finally stopped writing about the day we reunite
perhaps i can't move on, perhaps i lie, perhaps you'll understand
when i tell you over lunch, on the verge of tears, that i'm afraid
that i will suffer a case of unrequited love until the day that i die

cheap perfume, dreadful news, i pay my dues while
miss drunk and deluded decides to trip all over my shoes
i'm her champagne flush, a nicotine rush, and her unrequited crush
but the only thing i ever notice is how the crowds hush

when you start humming tunes, singing blues, like you always do
your smile subtle, warm, holding far more joy than it ever used to
i sold your ring to the highest bidder, but my best friend actually likes you
he persuaded me to donate it all, it’s what you would've wanted me to do

so while tonight is all cheap perfume, dreadful news, and paying dues  
when miss drunk and deluded once again steps all over my poor shoes
it's easy to smile and stay calm because i'm drunk and deluded, too
and when i dance with my eyes closed, i am slow waltzing with you

humming tunes, singing blues, dancing jewels
miss looking for love is dancing all over your leather shoes
over uneven pavement, over failed engagements
i sent your ring back, i couldn't bear to see it, nor sell it

even now, my six-eight time signatures are still bringing
your custom-length tailcoats to a Viennese waltzing
all while your upper-echelon friends keep pretending
like they don't find satisfaction in my subtle mourning

tonight is all humming tunes, singing blues, and dancing jewels  
i am still lingering, still humming our tunes, still singing our blues,
i am still feigning ignorance, and my finger is still missing a jewel,
i am still center stage, but someone else dances with you

i pledge allegiance
to the flag
of the united states of america
and to the republic
for which it stands
one nation, on stolen land,
under a foreigner's god
divided by fear, religion, and greed
ruled by the richest at
the suffering of the poorest
with liberty and justice
to all who may afford it
excluding the women,
the lgbtq+, the non-christian,
and the non-white
god bless america, and
the caricature of democracy
it has become

note: some people may choose
to add at the end, another
"god bless america, and god save us all"

it is one thing
to follow her into the dark

it is another thing
to borrow her fragmented words
and hold her in one hand
and a scale in another
and call it justice

but, by God
(whichever one you’d like to cite today
the kind one, the cruel one, and so on),

it is a whole different thing
to seize her by the neck
and rip the words from her throat
and twist them into cotton *****
and dip them into holy water
and force them back into her mouth
until she can no longer breathe
and no longer live and no longer exist
without drowning in a sense of helplessness
because we, the people, will always remember exactly how
you took your greed and shoved it into her mouth
and down her throat, until you stifled the cries of
‘my body, my choice’ with a book of myths and a man’s voice
weren’t you supposed to be our voice?
what was this all for? was the money so loud that
you could not hear the echoes of pro-choice?
our rage—will it be worth those thirty silver coins?

the romantics
after meeting you
will idealize love

the poets
after loving you
will romanticize loss

seasons are changing
and miracles are coming
do you understand the signs?

(or do you misinterpret them
the same way that i do
every godforsaken time?)

i never thought that the
big apple could feel so small
and i swear that sometimes
it feels like you never left at all

because, claire, even as you stand
3000 miles across this country
flipping your mic next to the big stars
partying in mansions with big money

it's our love story from so long ago
that echoes down these midnight streets
and it's your voice in your songs—i admit
i listen to them and they still drive me crazy

it's how your voice haunts me
at every single stupid house party
and how your words still remind me
during my every attempt at peace

i begged you to stay even when
you were already walking away
and when i whispered those words
you didn't even know what to say

i'm not the only one who knows that
that one song is about me
and at this point, i'm sure
even my best friends pity me

everyone knows, in fact
you probably even know
since you've moved on now, the real question is:
how the hell do you expect me to ever let you go?

before i bought these airpods
we used to share earbuds
and sit on the swings—

there was a nice and calm
between us every time we laughed
even as my phone fell and its screen cracked

you know, i hated beautiful clichés
(and i loved romanticized tragedies)
until we became one

they say it's a god-given right
a necessity, meant to be
a part of the American life

but tell me, do you know what it's like
to have to the cold steel of a barrel
pressed between your innocent eyes?

in a single heartbeat
i lost sight of our surroundings
everything fell into focus

even now, i am tangled in your web
and the only words i had found always held you
on a pedestal, at the foot of which i bled

my love for you will age
like your mother's finest wine
growing only richer with the passing of time

here is something that is easy to forget
yet somehow so difficult
to find and recognize

the lights of the brightest stars you've met
are sometimes mere residuals
of unsaid goodbyes

even eve, wise and
pure as she was
saw the beauty in lies

then, would you have
also dared to explore
the great unknown,

to conquer the beauties
and untangle the secrets
that laid beyond eden?

do you feel better
now that you are distant
and detached
from every single emotion
you have ever met

i may be losing my mind but i hate how
our dancefloor is illuminated by streetlights
and your whispers of "i love you"
sound something like a bittersweet goodbye

if tomorrow never comes
it must be the end of the world
and i know i won't be ready for afterlife

i won't say a final goodbye
but i know you're the kind of person
who likes defined edges and endings

so i'll settle for a compromise
when you say goodbye, i'll say goodbye
goodbye, that is, until next time

she's like my midas, incarnated
golden just for me, i know she hates it
but she likes me though
she says

she'll call me baby, call me crazy
when she's the one cursing at me
but she likes me so
she says

and i'll be back everytime
like a sinner drawn to wine
i'll let her touch me, oh
i'll let her drown me in her liquid gold

call it toxic, call it comic
but all i want is this

she's like my midas, her touch is blessed
makes me golden, feeling euphoric
and she loves me so
she says

if this ain't love then what is?

and it's always the same
like a moth drawn to flame
i'll let her touch me, oh
i'll let her burn me 'til we're liquid gold

so she could love me for a bit
hate me for a bit
my love's been being cold to me

so just love me for a bit
i wanna be your *****
and it would feel like gold to me

my friend called the other night
all tangled up in a thorny mess
but i found no words that helped

or reassured him as he drove down 95
the voice automated system, his sole companion
the gps signals, amplified his shaky breaths

the scene was so ******
they barely identified his body
is this guilt that sits on my chest?

lapping at my heart like a dog
who sits in silence, waits in silence
for a friend that will never come home

it was a puppy sort of love
but we were young
so it felt much deeper

perhaps it was the reason
why we were so hesitant
to let go and move on

thus, i found myself cutting corners
so i could fit myself into your box
and in the painful process of loving you
i made myself become someone i knew i was not

summer slipped through like a snapshot in time
and in the midst of this chaos we call life
i've lived a little and learned a bit more

so if the price of faint crow's feet aligning with my eyes
are a couple of scars and a couple of cut strings
i'd do all it over again just to feel this happy

how did i romanticize this in such a way
there were no soft whispers, no shy touches
we moved quick, with staggered rhythms

neither of our hips lined up properly
we sounded more animalistic than anything
it was good, alright, a good ****, alright, but

this wasn't quite what i was looking for
lust wasn't quite what i was asking for
you weren't quite what i was hoping for

if i had told you how much
i hated this stupid santa barbara pier
you might have stayed for centuries

was it not you who said
was it not you who promised
you would be here for me if i called

all i say now is this:
i still see your eyes
in the blue of the skies

i still hear your laugh
bouncing off the high tides
i still hold millions of memories

that play on an infinite loop
fading images of your expression of shock
of you, forever sixteen, never changing

i can still feel your breath
the way you whispered for me to leave
how could i have left?

did you think i could just go home
wash your blood off of my hands
and sleep in a half-empty bed?

i wish i had told you how much
i hated this stupid santa barbara pier
if it meant you could have stayed

isn't it crazy how august flies by
these scars from summer that i thought would never fade
they've blurred together and paled with time

it took me two years to get back
on a train to the lower east side
back to the starting ground

but when i arrived this morning
in our little corner of this place
it felt something like a ghost town

so many faces fluttered by
but not a single one i recognized
i felt like a stranger in my hometown

i left to chase my dreams of permanence
but now nostalgia and memories ring aloud
and all of our old apartments have been torn down

what is left for my wandering heart?
not you, not home, nothing else in this town so
i bought a ticket for the next train, and i'm leaving now

laughs carried down by an ocean breeze
we spin beach umbrellas like strip poles
as the world spins beneath our feet
your smile is contagious, and i know

i have the worst tanline in a history of tanlines
but this is the best time i've had in a long time

snap back to reality
where we sneak out of windows
and bike down the midnight streets
with weary hearts and unsteady feet
to meet each other
in the middle of the night
the only time we can hold each other
without being burdened by judging eyes

a cardboard closet just for you and me
in the corner of the universe
where we hide silently, waiting
for the planets to align, waiting
for the stars to align, waiting
for some kind of sign
simply just waiting while
we are lost in each other's eyes

and after a long time
i finally realized
that the constellations in the sky
have always aligned
with lines of your hands
and the curve of your waist
and even the glow of dying stars
reflected the warmth of your skin

but snap back to reality,
with cameras in the corners
and sneaking out is like escaping hell
and with a window comes freedom
but free-falling fifteen feet down
and landing myself in the hospital
with a broken leg or a bruised ego
would just make things worse

so this becomes the reason why
i am choking on my breath under a dark sky
with a heart that has forgotten how to beat
a mouth that has forgotten how to speak
and lungs that have forgotten how to breathe
because i am trapped within a false reality
of what could have been and should have been
of what we were and what we could never be

i write out the letters and
i send them without shaky hands
is this it? is this growth?

hyacinthus, i am selfish
everyone already knows that
i would sacrifice the world for you
and not once consider turning back

the flowers you weaved into wreaths when
we were two boys in love with each other
they sat like crowns upon our heads
we were just two kings in a field of flowers

aphrodite warned me what was written in stone
that my father had given only one throne
she warned me that it could never fit two kings
but when my gaze landed on you, i disagreed

for you, i would have offered my throne
for you, i would have traded my crown
for you, i would have sacrificed the world
for you by my side, i would have let it all burn down

but for you, hyacinthus,
i will also learn to be selfless
i will listen to your soft, dying words
and upon river styx, i will promise:

i will not tear the world apart
to have you by my side again
i will be bitter, i will be vengeful
but i will not act upon my vengeance

for the sake of this undeserving world
for my love towards you, i will be selfless
for the sake of your dying wish, hyacinthus,
i will swear, i will promise:

i will let you go softly,
i will not be selfish,
i will let you go gently, my love—
gently, but not unnoticed

i will keep skipping stones in the dark until
my feet grow wet and my ears become filled
with the pitter-patters echoing across the pond

will these whispers reach your daffodils that sway so far away?
will your flowers feel the warmth that i offer to the breeze?
will the winds lay mercy on the hope that i hold so close?

so for selfish reasons, i ask you to look away, narcissus:
your love for that reflection has already dug you
a grave deep enough to smother apollo's sun

and i, painted forever as foolish, naive echo—
and i, who have already lost my voice and home—
my love, i cannot bear to lose you, too

i've been running from the truth
running up an empty staircase
yet somehow i keep spiraling down

i've been searching for love
for a droplet of whatever is left
a symbol of hope to answer my prayers

if i reach the top of these stairs
having finally escaped truth's poena
will you be there waiting for me?

or will it be deja vu, another infinite loop
of my heart drowning in deep waters
as you stand there, watching with a smile

my heart hesitates but my steps are steady
i run from no truth, i already know the truth
things are meant to fall apart

and every time, it is the same
and every time, i am always powerless
just a mere bystander to my own downfall

what a tragedy it would have been
if you had loved me when i had confessed
because now i know, i hadn't understood then

that my definition of love had been  
not so much actually loving but rather just
a romanticized idea of being in love instead

stranded at sea, and i am
surrounded by a lonely blue
with thoughts as my only companions
and guilt for my fallen crew

i bear colors of war against pale blue
sangria red and dirtied white
torn fabric and stained innocence
from choosing myself as the sacrifice

there was a golden age when
i was once hailed as a hero
but those days have ended now
delusions shattered by war's arrow

all i am now is a captain without a crew
a pirate with sinking treasures and ship
slivers of the person i once was
i have taken one too many hits

all i have is this broken, grey compass
the needle spins wildly, unpredictable, like the sea
i have finally lost sight of true north, or
perhaps it is time the world has finally lost me

change sweeps me through the sea
rinse, scrub, dry so, and repeat
gone the stains of another life
reborn again as a simple someone, just me

crimson blood washes into the sea
and a makeshift white flag flutters under the sky
this tattered shirt is all that is left of my fight
i am just another sailor, lost at sea tonight

call it hurricane season
every little fluctuation of the weather
makes my mood change quicker

than the flicker of a flame
my emotions run rampant and free
everything on my mind seeks the thrill of fighting

i’m not afraid of consequences
i hate the works of god and the words of men
i am the eye of my own storm and

the time is coming, the winds are changing
let the sea sweep the world to grey
let the earth bow before me and i will say

"your god is a mere bystander to my chaos
your prayers will remain unanswered
and his words will be left unspoken"

keep in mind, i make no empty promises
i will annihilate you, your people, your lands
destroy your everything with my bare hands