I keep falling in love with ghosts
They flitter in and fade away

Three little spirits slipped wetly into my hands
****** and beautiful; we called each other family
The foundation cracked and poison filled the gaps

They used to laugh and call me daddy
Now…silence and estrangement
That name is reserved for another

Everything in my life was thrown into a heap
Misunderstanding and pain collided to spark the flame
I walk through this new reality, ash covering my feet

Yes, bartender, I’ll have another
And another

///

A wraith tall and handsome extended his hand in kindness
I reached with my entire being
Poured my heart into his chest

For a moment he washed me clean
We laid bodies entwined as poetry spilled from his lips
A summer zephyr under my wings
I was a phoenix

Balladry devolved to insult
He removes the dagger and ashes spill out
My brokenness is scattered everywhere

Yes, bartender, I’ll have another
And another

///

Splintered, scaly hands attempt to rebuild
A heavy mind sits in an empty room
Passing by houses filled with the ones I love
Never fingers to grace cheek again

I’ve become the stranger that can’t find a home
Saliva stretches as lips part 
Lungs evacuate and heartbroken cries disappear into the sky

This hollowness haunts me like an apparition
Love…the ultimate curse
It’s previous forms have burned me to ash

Yes, bartender, I’ll have another
And another
.
.
.
I’m in love with ghosts
They flittered in and faded away

I always wake during the strangest of hours. Time is supposed to be a foundation—something in which to measure and organize our existence. For me, it slips through the fingers of an outstretched hand and dissipates into vapor. There is no comfort in its passing, only a fleeting shadow of an old friend. I recently drove through the worst fog imaginable; every moment was a struggle to remain between the worn-out lines. I squinted even harder and my singular headlight tried its best to help illuminate a path. Its efforts were valiant, yet meager. This is how it is for me now. This is how the days flicker by; in fog, in a haze, no true distinction from one to the next. I squint. It is in vain.

3:00am. I abruptly sit up and my eyes dart around the room that has become mine for but a little while. My conscious mind is still unscrambling data—separating dream from reality from memory. It all comes into focus and my chest heaves as I remember that my children are 539 miles away. They are in their own temporary rooms. My fingers touch the place on my bed where my son recently lay and told me how much he loved me during our last night together before the Five Week Separation. I cognitively continue to process the situation while simultaneously repressing it into deeper and more distant caverns.

My feet touch the floor and I find something to eat. I watch a movie to distract myself, but only feel all the more hollow. I shake my body into movement. I dress myself and head outside. An introspective playlist accompanies me as I walk along the Rock River. I drink in the breaking morning light until I become intoxicated by the sheer beauty of every single moment: the couple walking quickly by; the glow from a nearby kitchen window; the fishy smell of river water. This is the town of my youth, and in a few short weeks, I am leaving it far behind—yet again.

I walk the familiar streets and enter a café that is filled with countless memories of old friends, love, and laughter. The tables are now bare and the chairs empty, but I can still see the ghosts of memories projected throughout the room. The owner asks me how I am doing and how many kids I have now. I respond in as few words as necessary without being crass. I pay for my latte and scone, then turn away and wonder if I will ever buy coffee here again as the door’s abrasive dinging announces my exit. I slip my headphones back on and turn the volume down on the world around me. Everything seems more cinematic when I am orchestrating the score. Cars rush by and my scarf flutters in the breeze as a violin crescendos and a banjo jangles.

I trek back to the place of transient residence. Enough self-reflection for today. It’s time for some productivity. Everything is so very different now. Strange and painful, yet beautiful and mysterious. I am still me. My children are still my children. I think of them as I breathe in the damp morning air and slowly look around one more time, trying to record every detail in my memory. Everything is calm. I exhale deeply. As the breath escapes from my mouth it leaves a vapor that dances upward and disappears in a second. In that moment, time seems tangible again.

Three gilded gifts
Shimmering in rays
Corn silk hair dancing
Arms wrap and
Fingers graze

Giggle harmonies
Dip and swirl
Maternal mantra:
Hate this
Love that
One boy
A girl
And a girl

Two souls adrift
Firelight glance
A love spurious
Yet sincere

Picket fence and
Living room dance
The Void
The Great Elephant

Her fist
To his chest
Children from window
See her testament

Hundreds of folk
Gather in droves
By tongue
Garner community

Elitist *******
You burn like stove

Wooed by dark whisper
She surrenders to fear
The demon of cult
Death kisser

One man
In a room barren
He sees
No boy
Nor girl
Or girl

Drug into a life
Without sharin’

Birthdays
Are dagger days
Loss
A neck-roped anvil

Recalling fingers
In hair of
Maize

It’s been some years that we have grown
To think of all that made our home
The nights are worst, or so it goes

Our ‘spring would be fifteen and nine
If we had let them both survive
The dogs would live with love divine
We could’ve swam with massive fry

Or sang again while we’re alone
At home or through the telephone
Basked beneath the wild skies
To give a laugh and take surprise

A hundred hearts, one day each year
And two to hold our loved ones near
Who knows what else would be, my dear
Or might’ve been in place of fear

And now I wait for something more
Til death doth part our lives before
The time has come, whence we’ll be sure
It wasn’t worth a life less pure

There sits an empty dresser drawer
once full but now it's not.
Everything that I love
has up and left that spot.
To see it now you sure would think
it's empty as can be.
And to you that might be true
but not so much for me.
It used to house my sons clothes
and treasures he would keep.
Like gems, coins, hot wheel cars,
and toys that whirl and beep.
But now he lives off with his dad
declaring that it's awesome.
While I sit here staring at
my empty drawer coffin.
Tempting me to climb on in
until my tears do cease.
Laying down in all it's not
May I rest in peace.

I’m moving through rooms,
Restless and roving
Searching for something
That I know I won’t find.
Not under the sofa,
Or under the rug.
Not in the vacuum,
Or tucked in the folds
Of my wife’s throw
In subdued forest green.
It remains unseen.

It’s not in her vanity
Or the basket wear our clothes
Would wind together like lovers;
Sweat-soaked and bitter-sweet.
It’s not in the cupboard with the dog’s treats
Maybe it fell from a kitchen drawer
To lie with the spiders
Hidden in the floor.
It’s not in our great wide bed
Where our sheets lay flat and wrinkle-free,
Future dust-sheets all.
Let’s face it, it’s not in the hall.

It’s not in the garden we planted
Or the shed we built.
It’s definitely not in the garage
Where she never went,
Not even for a minute,
Which I thought heaven-sent.
It’s not on the porch
Or the patio bench,
Where we spent many an evening
Trying to learn French.
It’s not in the car,
That’s my one you see.

Hers is not there...

The thing that I’ve lost
I won’t find today,
Tomorrow,
Next week or in June.
She may as well be on the moon.

We've heard a lot about true love
Seen it in countless movies
Read about it in countless books
But does it really exist?
Well, I'd like to think that it does
You see, I'm speaking from experience
When I first fell in love
I felt like a bird
That had just sprouted wings
And was ready to take off
And experience the sheer joy and excitement
That comes naturally with flying
Especially if it's the first time
I felt like every single day
Was something to look forward to
And I managed to derive some interest
Even out of the most boring lectures
You see, I was doing my MBA then
Anyway, cutting to the chase
It ultimately turned out to be a case of unrequited love
But, as they say
It was totally worth it
My second tryst with love, though
Wasn't quite the same
Arranged marriage, love *** arranged marriage
You can call it whatever you like
But it doesn't change the fact
That it was never going to end well
To put it plainly
We were incompatible
And the eventual divorce
Was a blessing in disguise
I thus learnt the hard way
That it is not enough to be in love
And that is absolutely essential
To have things in common
The more, the better
So, coming back to true love
Does it really exist?
Well, my answer will remain 'Yes'
After all, I'm a hopeless romantic
And I'm not about to give up
Just because of one bad experience
I also believe
That it's a question of when, not if
And I happened to learn
Through a Facebook post
One out of countless posts that I've seen off late
That you shouldn't worry about finding the right woman
Just focus on being the right man

Thirty two years and counting
I haven't found true love yet
And I am not considering unrequited love
I've been there twice
The first occasion was during my MBA
To cut a long story short
I simply couldn't pluck up the courage
To tell her how I felt
When I eventually managed to do it
It turned out to be a case of locking the stable
After the horse had well and truly bolted
The second occasion was an arranged marriage
Where the engagement brought us closer to each other
Or at least, I thought so
But the issue was, the girl didn't
And the pandemic pulled us apart
Metaphorically as well as physically
Thus, that didn't end well either
Now that I am single again
Thanks to this amazing human invention called "divorce"
The hunt for true love continues
Before we proceed further, though
Let me get this off my chest
I am a work in progress, not a finished product
And I have my flaws
But then, we all know the saying
Nobody is perfect
Everybody has some flaw or the other
In fact, it is these flaws
That separates us human beings from robots
Which are equally intelligent as we are, if not more
But I am going off-track
The point is, I need someone who loves me as I am
Of course, it works both ways
If I love someone with all my heart
I would do anything for her
I mean, anything that comes within the definition of "ethical"
And I wouldn't want her to change one bit
I mean, as far as her character is concerned
Now that we are all on the same page
It is time for me
To resume the hunt for true love
Of course, we all may have our expectations
But I ask for only two things
Unwavering loyalty and trust
And accepting me as as I am
With all my flaws
And when I do fall in love
I hope and pray
That it is reciprocated, for a change