as i walk down this road
with the moon shining a pale glow onto my shoulders
i feel weightless
empty
but in a good way
nothing is weighing me down
i’m like a bird
cloaked in feathers
airy
everything is clear
my thoughts
the sky
no clouds
sober
i understand now.
and i’m content.
i’m alone
in a way
but i’m okay alone
for now
because he taught me things
and i appreciate that now
and i don’t long for his name
i’m no longer mad
i’m at peace with who we were
and who we are now
and i hope so is he.

It was an atmosphere
It was an oxygen mixed with southern fog
Southpaw gloves tied in sailor knots
Waves of golden grains in ocean wind
The rolling hills behind property lines

It was the question you asked
not with words but in the way you breathed against the window glass
as I leaned against your Corolla
And we sang under the overpass

It was graffiti
It was graffiti
It was the cavernous concrete cats with purple hair and acid wash jean jackets
melting the light of their city's street lamps into the obsidian void of moistened pavement

It was the way the reverb spread the major seventh across the sky with burnt orange cascading into the violet of the minor ninth
which reminds me of crickets and summer nights (and violins and cellos and midwestern jazz bars)
and how bar chords are a guitarists way of flipping off a crowd-
surfing the web for an answer to why I'm still single-
handedly the handsomest man in my car currently.

It's the cloth in my empty passenger seat
soaking up the air of my A/C heat
and the scent of the soil spilt from the succulent I was given at a wedding last fall
and now I don't know if my trunk will ever smell clean at all

But I'll let this night be interstellar
I'll take a bath in the Big Dipper and write you a letter about Orion's Belt
or how I miss the stars sparkling in your eyes making contact with the E.T. in me.

Phone me home, darling.
I'm lost at sea.

-W.J. Thompson

She stares at the stars,
Her eyes nibble the Milky Way
Like that of a candy bar.

I have yet to see eyes that compare
To hers.
Aglow with lunar light.
Her gaze aided with crescent moon contact lenses.

And then I could see what she saw.
Her eyes…
They were infinite,
Just like the space she stared at.

No concerto of cosmic colors
Could tear me from her tranquil gaze.

I get lost in her eyes,
Just as she gets lost in the skies.

Empowerment is to stop begging you to come home,
self love is realising a soulmate would never leave you alone,
happiness is letting the loneliness fade,
fulfilment is realising the best lives are self made.

i collect them like some people collect buttons
jotting each one on whatever i can find
a scrap from a brown paper bag or a napkin
i'll forget them if i don't

i write endless lists of them
string them together and let them dangle like daisy chains
search for them on globes and in dictionaries
saving them for the perfect moment,
when they fit into place so perfectly
it makes my heart ache

I don’t want to be called pretty, don’t want to be thought of as pretty, don’t want to be pretty.
I’ve wasted so many years of my life trying to be pretty, skinny, girly, cutely, and another box of labels i tried to fit onto my ragged skin to no avail

Don’t call me pretty. Don’t call me cute.
I’m not.

I’m smart. I’m thoughtful. I’m kind. I’ve got softness hidden in the bottom of my heart and I’m proud it stuck with me for this long.

I’ve got tired happy eyes and a round nose and hair unruly, soft curves and thick thighs.

I’ve got scars that show I’m more than skin and bones, scars to prove I’m a survivor, a warrior. Scars to prove I’ve never given up.

I’m not pretty. I never will be.
And you know what?
I’ve never been more content than the moment i realised

i am enough.
without your labels, without your compliments, without your back-handed insults or catcalls.

i am enough.

in my dreams she was smiling,
a smell of her breath hits my skin,
and a touch of her hands began to slowly moved,
i began to see her glimpse of smile,
as she sway her hair in the air,
she grabbed my hands and kiss me slowly,
i embraced of not knowing a dream or fantasy,

i pressed my body against her body to the wall,
and slowly biting her lips and touch her tongue,
she moans slowly and after all its just another man's fantasy,
she says " Why do you stop suddenly",
then i replied " you were to  beautiful to break",

she hanged her hair against my neck,
demanded attention of a uncanny love,
pleaded the pleasure against my crotch,
i tasted her sweat from her skin,
slowly embraced her *******,
feeling shallow and emptiness in my mind,
i drained all myself to her.

imagine if everything was simple
we're all happy and living the life we desire
and we're all content with what we are given

and that satisfaction is genuine
nothing artificial or insubstantial
that's how we all wish life could be

maybe in another life, we would meet
maybe my hand would be in yours
maybe our hearts would belong to each other

if life was that simple, maybe we'd already know each other
maybe i would already mean something to you
but nothing is that easy

yet, i'm still happy with just the thought of you