I felt,
My lungs,
Collapse,
My heart,
Stopped,
And all you did,
Was look,
At me,
With blank eyes,
And no thought.

Bodies belong
in the cold, cold ground
Bodies belong
in the heat of flame
Bodies belong
wrapped with me

Tight, and pressing
recent death to flesh.

rationing myself out
after giving you my everything
to place yourself in the hands of someone
knowing they can ruin you
is the ultimate gesture of trust
and when neglected and unwanted
the plunge of death
when your heart finally gets handed back to you
broken
beating irregularly
scared to even flutter again

how could you be so sweet
and leave me so bitter
now it makes sense
because salt looks a lot like sugar

She was like art a foundation of happiness with a dash of crazy fulling the creativity of her mind and soul. A product of pure genius she can become any form she creates becoming a library of masterpieces giving the liberty to show the world who she truly is. A masterpiece of a woman disguised as a blank canvas

i saw her fiddling with her ring in an effort to dodge my eyes and avoid conversation. our parents discussed their philosophies for life and plans for us.

she tucked a stray curl behind her ear, and only looked up at me
when i was speaking to answer her father's questions.
she laughed at all my jokes,
she watched me drink my orange juice when my eyes were averted.

"that's a lot of pressure," she says in the kitchen when her mother tells her to help prepare lunch. i want to get up to help her. i have no appetite. i just want to hear her voice more than one sentence response at a time.

i'm sitting in the living room, legs crossed, eyebrows raised.
she's fiddling with the same ring on her finger, and i think to myself
as i watch her, that i want to someday,
place a very specific ring
on a very specific fingers of hers
someday

proud parent of a closeted gay kid

my honour student has clinical depression

crybaby on board

if you can read this, this is the closest thing to intimacy i have experienced in weeks

the voting system is a fraud. i think we should reconsider the infrastructure of the american government before endorsing a candidate via the back of our vehicles

how's my driving? validate me please i'm so sad

doesn't matter how i hold it,
liquor in my hand brings shame to the man

i've sat at hundreds of dinner tables,
watched the women politely drink their water,
nobody stops their husbands from making fools of themselves
and my father takes pride in never having asked to be picked up from a bar
there's so much more i expect in a good man than sobriety

i drink to forget, more often to mourn than celebrate
i am classless, i am not marriage material anymore

it's 1:15 in the morning, and i see brown curly hair
and heartbreak wearing it like a costume
approaching me

6'2" and probably a little younger than me
still, he gets to be the tower
even though i've been here longer

you can't hear wedding bells in a place this loud
i took a (tequila) shot in the dark, and kissed him like i meant it

This blank page haunts me
Daring me to fill up the lines
Defining words
To try describing the universe
Transcribing between the lines
A little tool too often used
Softer than a whisper
Sharper than a sword

Blasted manifestos
Speeches lapped up by leeches
Letters of love
Declarations of hate
Signatures for war
Who am I to dictate?
From the scrawls on my little page

But present still is “what if”—
When script fails
What is left?
Nothing but smudges
Faint remnants of faded pasts
Moving to fill blank spaces
Nibs dancing across white pages