you did nothing wrong,
it was me who loves the idea of loving you.

I keep avoiding the reality,
hoping that the idea of mine came true.
But the reality, it's far from happening.

I destroy my own soul.

in this crazed business of flighty gods and flitty humans,
this trove of love need,
this two way street for persons blind in one eye
thus they can see you,
the one who loves them
only when they squint real hard,

well it is a far better thing

to be next them,
to be seen and be seeing
than have the
ceiling be your horizon,
a pillow oscar-acting as a long lost love,
cold sheets and space heaters each losing the battle,
for when the moment occurs that

loving usurps loneliness
even for a moment’s moment,

it is a far better thing you do
than you have ever done before

8:41pm

She is like the sun,
She brightens up the room wherever she is, and like the sun, even though she is far away I can still feel her warmth- Lucia Airo

the space between
a sea of stars
dancing high
gliding far

the space between
a world
full of scars
stitched together in my heart

a space between
the unknown and true
leaving me restless
leading me straight to you

but a space between spaces
wasn't that far
for us to cross borders
on runaway stars

the space between spaces
isn't that far

Flesh of a lonely man
Needs make up
Wreaths on this list coming

Crossing out and ticking the boxes
We’re still holding the dust of souls
And ashen glances look like desultory glances

****** on the nursed streets
The streetlit howling winds can fly out of educated lives
We are only left educated minds changing their ways and stealing cigarettes

Feigining for the father figure
I hope we have had a good time
The night’s brighter with the vivid growth of the undernelly

Knell bells tolling, killing the bleeding
Sojourn the dress, and adjourn th court
Red crimson tresses sense the mallet of sentences marking forever

Those worst worshipping travelers of trafficking
Altruist, my forefathers are looking at us like it’s now or never
The darkeness is inevitable, but, the tunnel runs out with indomitable spirit stealing glances from the Gods of religions so decrepit
I had my luck in my pocket from these corrupt politicians, and reiterated that I’d run and reign and then run
Like the apoplectic season of the monsoons, teaming up either way

Up and down
Far and near
In love closest is tear.