I miss the late night calls until we hear the morning birds sing
I miss the late night walks to your house when there's no one else awake
I miss the comfortable silence between us or laughing with you until it hurts

Now I look at my phone and months go by since the last call we shared
Now I walk and pass by your house, both of us awake, but living separate lives
Now the silence between us is tense, only small talk of "how have you been"

I miss you even when I'm with you, because when I'm with you I feel like I don't know you

Being on everybody's tongue, being
furtively watched by the prettiest girls
is the advantage of boys
who work their way up laughing

at the expense of the concern
of their former friends
who do not understand
the betrayal and withdraw

in a hurt longing
for the former intimacy
(Some guys exaggerate
  their toughness, they overshoot

  the mark, so
  that everyone suffers
  a loss, no
  a person can't be worse)

Being your allies

friends notice: we are needed --


as adversaries.

Mistaken for brothers, and maybe that's true
Before our departure, I’ve some things to say:
Don't die with your music still inside you.

From boys to men, together we grew,
Nostalgic memories of how we’d play.
Mistaken for brothers, and maybe that's true.

Twenty-five years, each version brand new.
I’m proud of how you’ve carved your way.
Don't die with your music still inside you.

You stayed close when I switched my crew,
Loving a man we once called gay.
Mistaken for brothers, and maybe that's true.

For you, there's nothing I wouldn’t do.
We’re growing older, slowly turning grey.
Don't die with your music still inside you.

I’ll always be there, even without a clue.
Live your life fully, don’t let it decay.
Mistaken for brothers, and maybe that's true.
Don't die with your music still inside you.

I used to knock
She would answer
All around the clock
She never asked
Why I was so late
And with a smile
Opened the gate

Always had space
For the quiet ache
I couldn't erase
We talked for hours
Went for walks at the lake

I wore out
The welcome in
Now I doubt
If I should knock
And if I do
The once open door
Stays locked

The Battleground Beneath Her Skin
(A Physiology of Light and War)

Before it reaches her;
even before her breath draws it in,
I break myself down..

  not as surrender,
  but as choice.

Each particle stripped bare,
each atom exhaled
made clean by the reckoning
of my own dark,
infused with the stubborn
weight of light
earned, not borrowed.

Within the responsibility of what
  leaves me,
I enter the quiet union—
the kneeling choice
to align with the hand of God,
to let even my smallest fragments
carry His capacity to heal.
Every airborne particle,
accountable,
deliberate,
refined enough
to cross the distance,
to enter her

without deception.

Beneath her skin,
a war unfolds.

It is not loud,
not made of swords,
but of smaller things..
things unseen by eyes,
but never missed by the marrow,
the blood,

the quiet trembling of cells
that have known both wound

  and wonder.

Light and dark..
not in theory,
but in matter
thread themselves through every atom,
every strand of her being.
Not metaphor,
but measurable:

the way shadows lean into the soft chambers of her lungs,

the way light, when chosen,
can rewrite the blueprints etched into the bloodstream.

This is the battleground..
her body,
her breath,
her most involuntary places.
Where no poetry of
seductive manipulation..
no whispered counterfeit
can cover what is real.
Only substance speaks here.
Only intent.

Only what survives the fire of accountability
earns the right to stay.

The particles come;
stripped down,
atomized,
refined.. not by accident,
but by the slow, steady grind
of volition.
They enter her;
through breath,
through pores..

through the quiet, relentless openness
that even fear cannot close completely.

And inside--
the war begins.

..   ..   ..   ..

Mitochondria spark—
tiny engines deciding

what stays,
what burns away.

Capillaries widen,
rivers branching through her like
tributaries
willing to carry
what is real,

what is earned,

what is Light.

The counterfeit falters here.
Pretty words mean nothing
to oxygen.
False portraits
dissolve beneath the chemistry of truth.
The cells remember;

  they choose.

And as the Light infuses
the quietest corners of her..
her thighs, her hips,
the soft stretch of her waist;
there is no seduction,
no trickery.

Only the hard-won intimacy
of substance made pure.

Not by the blending of oils,
not by the friction of skin,
but by the deeper,
unseen alchemy
of what enters,
what lingers,
what refuses to bow
to darkness.

The battleground is hers now.
And though the shadows  will not
yield easily,
they cannot claim her;
not where light
has been chosen,
earned,
metabolized.

The war is not over,
but benea.th her skin,
within her blood,

Light has begun
to rise.

I wake, to the rhythm, of you
breaking slowly, behind my ribcage.
The orchestral swell;
the auric light, of rosy dawn...
blooming, to new life.

More, than a phantom.
More, than a phantasm.

I yearn, to be wound, around you,
in long, lingering threads,
of bruisy, purple-gold daylight,
and pull tight, as I knit myself,
around your stretched form...
soft-skinned, and sleepy...
pulling you so tight to me,
that your body barely rocks
upon the edge, of the tapestry needle.

Let my legs, be the woven fabric,
that ensnares your hips,
and pulls you, even closer, to me.
I want to feel, your rippling laughter
burble, through your chest.
I want to swim, in languorous strokes,
the fathoms, of your aching mind,
with the ease, of turning your thoughts:
flipping through its dog-eared pages,
like the well-read chapters,
of a readily studied, book.

My arms, seek to hold you,
and cradle you, to me,
lips, pressed to your skin,
plush, and satin pillow soft.

I want to devour you, in rapacious,
repeated kisses...I want to feel
the spring-coiled tension,
above your shoulders, snap, and unwind
relaxing, in helpless surrender,
at my nymphic touch,
as the rest, of you...hardens, like resin
and then melts away,
between my own spread,
buttery thighs.

I want to be so filled,
with the full, of you,
that you spill over, and escape...
I want to clutch your face,
in the tenderness of my fingertips,
and lose myself, in the labyrinth
of your lovely, dreaming eyes.

I need you, like flowers,
need gentle rains, to bloom.
I desire, you...like the prime, of night,
awaiting the the rising moon.

and I wait, for you...
like the guitar string solo,
in a beloved tune.

I could skip a heartbeat, and I would survive.
I could be in a car crash and still be alive.
The clouds could fall out of the sky.
The oceans could disappear and all turn dry.

These things in life are all bad, I know,
but there's far worse things, just thought you should know.

Life would not be the same without someone like you.
You're there when I need you to help me through.
Through the good times and through the bad,
Be them happy or be them sad.

I don't have to be with you to know you're there.
We don't have to see each other to know that we care.
We could be apart for years upon end
and still remain the best of friends.

Life goes on, and people change,
And through it all, our friendship shall remain the same.
That's such as life and how things come to be.
Just thought you should know how much you mean to me!

i saw something
on tiktok today
that would've made
you laugh --
for a moment there,
i almost sent it.

...

then i remembered,
we don't do that
anymore.
not out of hate.
not out of frustration.
not out of spite.
just distance.
just time.
just change.

...

but i still miss you
in the quiet ways
and like a silent burn --
like reaching for a hand
that isn't
there anymore
and one that never
got the chance to say
goodbye.

I now have faith
to go to lands
I cannot see
but in time
I hope to go
and fulfill
my dreams
in Tokyo…


friendships now…
they cannot fade
but sometimes
mellow away
peace of thought,
hope of heart
we walk anew
a brand new start!