Today, 4/9, turned 29;
in '94, 9th hour born;
4 craves stability,
9 thrives on change;

if you believe in
that sort of thing.
But like the dogwood,
its burnt-edge blooms;
the same each spring,
abscission looms.
Roots in the past,
leaves up for the storm
in '94, 9th hour born.

i felt miserable,
the crushing self rejection,
that a lover cannot fix,
the acceptance of being what broke you before.

but,
i stopped,
and realized i wasn’t alone,
for i was surrounded by garnets.
Twinkling, beautiful, crimson friends.

maybe it’s not so bad after all

A new love, could it be?
A chance to start again
We have not spoken, really
And you know nothing of me
Yet you say those words
“I’d love to get to know you”
Those awful words
Awful as they sparked a hope in my heart
A hope that only grows over time
Despite your late messages
And our dry conversations
And the fact that you are much better than me
I still cling the idea
That you and I could become something lovely
Do you think so too?
Is this the one chance I have?
It feels more real that the last time
But every moment is crushing me