I read a book about men and anger —
and it clawed into my chest like guilt with teeth.
Not just the loud eruptions,
but the quiet fires I never noticed burning,
the way I smoldered
while pretending I wasn’t heat.

Was I the villain in our ruin?
Is that why I wake up with her face aching behind my eyes?
Why I weeped this morning
from dreaming of her warmth beside me?

Yes, I shouted.
Yes, I shut down.
Yes, I swallowed rage until it poisoned everything we tried to build.
But didn't she light matches too?

She pulled away —
a distance I could feel, even when her skin was close.
Was it all a plan?
was she really “just waiting" to be rid of me?

I wanted forever.
Now all I have is this loop —
the smoking remnants of what was,
what might have been,
what may never come again.

I walk to breathe.
I walk to scream in silence.
I walk to stop myself from picking up the bottle.
From spiraling back into shame’s embrace.

What does it mean when two broken people call each other home?
Was it love? Survival?
Or history?
A scar we made sacred
as she paid the price.

Am I beyond saving?
Is this silence permanent?
Is this pain just penance in disguise?
or is it the weight of change dragging me forward?
The truth is—if I change,
I want it to be for her.
Not for the next empty word called “love.”
I want it to be real this time.
Not performative. Not reactive.

We were passionate, raw,
a force to be reckoned with.

We waged war with hearts still tethered.
Fitted like puzzle pieces carved in chaos—
Two magnets caught in a dance of push and pull.

Still, we were a team. A twin flame.
Bonnie & Clyde.
We loved with force and vibrance.
Peace, and malice.
Wicked and delighted.
We were not the calm,
but the storm that washes away the pain.
So, I pray in the quiet corners of my mind
that she’s somewhere, doing the same—
growing, healing, hurting, hoping.
That this is the cocoon phase.

Before the miracle of us begins again.

s.
   s o n o r a ,
n.
   n o t  r i g h t  n o w
a.
   a m  b u s y ,  c a n ' t  t a l k                  
p.
  please don't leave
d.
  d o n ' t  g e t  a t t a c h e d  s o  f a s t
r.
  rare is true attraction and rare is reciprocation. how quick you are to dismiss it
a.
  am I to go on with my life as if you are not a steadying force? you will let me stumble
g.
  g u e s s  ******>.
.
.
n.
  now is the end? love is irrational but you don't understand

I didn't love you
I know that now
Hindsight is 20/20
And my rose colored glasses
Are off
The relationship ended
Long before
The official end
And I'm not sad
Because I never loved you
The way you loved me
And I should have left
Should have ended it
But I didn't
You hurt me
A lot
In many different ways
Just like
I hurt you
No one is to blame
Except both of us
But what we had
Is dead
Any sign of life
Is gone
And when something dies
You bury it
And move on

why did you have to make it so hard
why did you you grasp onto me
like sticky rice on a fork
i hate that i had to tap the side of the bowl
instead of pour you out
i didn't get to do it slowly
it made a noise
and now you have to live
with ringing in your ears
it may have been loud
but at least it was fast
either way
you had to let me go

I still have your letter,
the one you wrote me for my birthday,
I keep it in my wallet along with your picture,
I will cherish them as long as I breathe my love.

Your presence is always
on the tip of my consciousness,
every part of every day
you're always on my mind,
you never seize to dissipate
from my foggy brain.

I love you,
I love you with every piece of my shattered heart,
lost and maybe never to be found.

Every night I write and delete,
but I hope that these lonely words
will somehow reach you,
perhaps weaving your dreamy visions
that you forget when you wake up.

I will write in vain,
and you will live hopefully,
joyful, oblivious to my sorrowed existence
amidst the crashing of day and night.

My precious,
you are the curing pain,
the never-ending desire
destined to never be fulfilled.

I howl
as I realize that insanity
is consuming my senses.
Hysterical laughing is looming
in my dark horizons
like a predator stalking a desperate prey.

I may know not my way,
I may get lost
between the brightness of the world
and the darkness of my rotten mind.

I may become the fool
that you pass by someday
and not notice.

I may fade into the shadows
and never to be seen again.

But it's all bearable
because I yearn for you, my cutie pie.
I'm still feeding the flame that you started,
I never let it die.

I sit and I watch it burn
in the emptiness of my purgatory.
Warmth costs pieces of me,
but it's all bearable and forgettable
when your smile flashes
on the murky surface of my memory,

and when the revenant sound of "I love you"
rattles my walking corpse
as I walk to my grave—
the grave I dug myself.

This is where I belong
without my love.

As the light fades from my soul,
I will be shedding tears of joy
as I watch
that you have found the one that you love.

Content by your radiant essence,
I will die
with a smile.

woke up  
on tuesday morning,  

one foot  
in front of the other.  

no rush,  
no hurry—  

just me,  
blue and under  
the weather.  

i used to find  
sunshine  
in so many places,  

but i lost  
the best  
i’ve ever had—  

and now,  
the sun feels  
a little colder
now.

i wonder  
whether  
it gets better.  

i used to be  
a goal-getter.  
now i’m in overdrive,  

short-term PTSD—  
nerves wrecked,  
spirit stretched.  

so many days  
crying,  
wondering if  
this ever ends—  

’cause i’m tired  
of living  
a bittersweet story,  

and tired  
of being  
down bad.  

you were  
the best—  

the best  
i’ve ever had.

a glass wing kept beating
behind the wallpaper.
i fed it honey
through the seams
and called it mine.

on the third thursday,
the moon blinked out.
you spoke in echoes,
spilled mirrors
across the floor.
i swept them up barefoot.

every silence
was a string in my mouth.
i pulled it,
thinking it might unravel you.
instead, it sewed me
shut.

the garden grew
upside down.
i watered the roots
from the sky.
you wrote your name
on the underside of a cloud
and said you never meant permanence.

meanwhile,
i lived beside the sound
of an unopened door—
**** warm,
hinges aching.

you said the map burned.
i said the fire had your handwriting.

now, the bird has left the wallpaper.
it’s made of smoke and backward time.
i watch it spiral
into the somewhere
you didn’t take me.

You tell me you'll love me forever,
More than anything,
forever.
maybe "forever" meant something else to you,
like "until next month".
unfortunately when I promised forever,
I meant the "forever" kind of forever.