What remains in the aftermath of love?

As streets are built without sidewalks
As neighborhoods no longer have use for streetlights

As parks and sunsets turn into myths
As the stories of lies and deceit become the only nursery rhymes we pass on

As *** becomes as mundane as eating bread
And ****** become larger and more frequent than church communions

As ***** become cheaper than blood

As faces become so interchangeable they're impossible to remember
And names turn into secrets

What remains?
When everywhere is no man's land

When childbearing is just a rare, yet escapable punishment from God

When children migrate in swarms between families like birds escaping winter

When love is just but a militarized weapon used for enslavement

When humanity is emancipated from their emotions

Shall we celebrate our independence by clearing our contacts list and changing numbers?

Shall we start each new year by picking a new stranger to stave off our hunger for the night

When we stone those who learned each other's middle names

When we lock away anyone greedy enough to keep someone to themselves
And the married are sent to live in the madhouse

When the war of love have ended
And no one's heart returns home

What remains?

It's such an odd feeling;
When you start talking to someone new

The way that you exchange war stories;
To see who's "ex" left the deepest bruise.

Just to remember,
The time that you did that with them too.

Like,
I'm not really sure what's up from down.

I have felt this way before.

Then the darkness hits.
That's when life is almost like a mirage.
Like, is any of this real?
I specifically told myself that this isn't the way to deal.

With loneliness,
That's a feeling best described with the lights shut off.

this world poetry day
is meaningless,
Maya, Charles, Sylvia, Allen
never even thought of it
it breeds more seed of
ego and monstrosity
deep inside those men
to lift their hands and
push us down the drain
to ensure that
we are stuck in between
honesty and reality,
forever.