Summer ice box, bolted to the block like a hustler’s ambition.
King of the corner. Hand to hand to every family man or,
A fiends fever dream. Metal mattress for the meek.
Chill spot on the streets,
For a late-night congregation of labeled freaks;
To people passing by at least.
Neighborhood staple. A practicing painters graffiti canvas.
Crowned with empty coffee cups turned bank accounts for the beggar.
Bent from stray bullets, but never broken.
Stalwart, abandoned bodegas
But the ice box remains.
The signature of a city that speeds away, but
Will never change.

Well, what did I expect?

How am I remembering you so clearly?
What your voice sounds like,
Your fragrance,
Your hair that I used to cares it in-between my fingers,
Your palms running down my waist as if you're shaping like clay,
How you'd smile in different occasions.

How am I remembering all the little things about you so clearly,
Yet I have forgotten how much I loved you;

I have forgotten my reason why I started to remember every detail of you.

I can't recall how I felt about you.

Was it the crook in my neck,
Or the tension in my back
That set me off course
To start the day?

Was it my sore feet,
Or the dust in my lungs
That sparked a thread
Of anger inside me?

Was it, perhaps,
A dream I had forgotten
Before my eyes blinked awake?
I could feel my heart racing…

The stars seem more dull,
The sky, a tinge more grey,
My step with less motivation,
And mind, less patient.

I’m missing something
That I don’t remember now,
But I feel it when the wind
Runs around my neck.

You can see the goosebumps emerge,
And a sigh of relief push out
With a moment of tilting back my head
And eyes closed.

Today, I’m missing something
That I’ve forgotten,
But I miss it now more than ever;
Can I make it stop?

after death
is there anything
but the soft patter
of the kitten's paws
against kitchen tiles
searching for its owner

is there anything
but the children
who run across the playground laughing
unknowing of what awaits them
what overturned tables
what fogged car mirrors

is there anything
but the memories
falling like gentle snow
across graveyards and families
who will be there someday
forgotten as well

is there anything
but silence in the unloved
early hours of the morning
as the stars blink
out one by one
finally above the weather

tell them to me again
One last
I will still
I will be present
Whisper so it's ours
We two
I need to
Fall once more into
The song spell
Your voice
I plead and confess
An oath
This will be the last
I saved a place  
to cradle
the best most missed
Cherished
Thoughts like honey
Of then
When I was
Desired and wanted
Please I will be
Quiet yes
I will be present
After this
Never again

The words I could never say
Fall as silent tears now
By tomorrow theyll be forgotten
But I can only escape them for so long

I bet no one’s called you that in a long time!
You'll always be Moony to me.
I guess it was so much simpler back then…
when we pranced around on stage and could hide behind names that weren’t our own.
Reno and Moony, the stars of the show!
Anyway, I guess those days are long gone now.
Even if I still remember them clearly.
Your hands were torn but your hugs were warm and no one thought to connect the two.
The smile you hid behind was similar to mine, but you wore it better.

Anyways, it’s really been a while huh?
Since we used that stage like it was a therapist’s office.
Better than therapy, actually!
Backstage we could share tears and laughs that lingered in the air.
That ugly, patchy couch that absorbed our secrets...
I bet they’re still in there if we went back and asked it nicely.
Although, maybe we wouldn’t want to know.

I guess it’s okay that we don’t talk as much anymore.
As they say “friends grow apart” and all that.
I never thought it would feel like losing a part of my soul
when you decided I wasn’t what you needed anymore.
Do you remember dancing and singing our worries away
on that stupid high school stage?
Did you know you were the closest thing to a best friend I’d ever had?

When other friendships have been forgot,
ours will still be hot!

I still sing that song in my head from time to time and wonder
if you do too

Forever,
your Reno

Journals stack up around me
Words upon words upon words
Does anybody read the lines that took me a lifetimes to write?
Does anybody feel the emotions that I felt?
When I filled these pages with a thousand words

Journals stack up around me
I keep them in storage box
Will anybody open them when I am no longer alive?
Will anybody realise what it meant for me to write?
Or will these verses simply fade away,
Forgotten?