How do you come to hate,
The ones you loved?
You don't.
They tend to turn on you,
Either that,
Or they weren't real at all.
I forsake any shard of regret I had,
From leaving you,
I regret any feeling I had,
From loving you.
If anyone lost here,
It was you.
Because you'll fall back into emptiness,
Trying to replace it with people,
But I, I will not.
I'll continue to cradle my own light,
Which you came so close to taking.
I'm done sacrificing pieces of me,
In order to receive nothing.

i was small when you chose me.
a ribbon tied beautifully around my neck,
shaking in a box
the sun too bright for my eyes.
you smiled,
and i mistook it for kindness.
my forever home.

i learned quickly
that love can wear faces.
that hands can come down hard and still call it discipline.
that food is not promised, even if you sit.
even if you beg.
even if you try to be the best boy.

the chain outside never rusted faster than my hope did.
i stopped barking for help when no one came.
just curled tighter,
colder,
quieter.

you taught me fear by name.
it was yours.

when i peed on the carpet,
it wasn’t defiance.
i just couldn’t hold it anymore.
you never let me out.
but you held my head down like my lungs were made to drown.
and i thought,
maybe this is what love feels like to monsters.

you forgot to name me.
so i named myself sit.
so i named myself stay.
bad dog.

i chewed the furniture once
not to destroy,
but because no one left me toys,
and my teeth ached with the loneliness of growing.

do you remember when i licked your hand after you hit me?
i do.
i thought maybe if i gave you all of my love,
yours might finally stay.

they say dogs are loyal.
but what they mean is:
“we forgive the unforgivable
with our tails still wagging.”

i would’ve died for you.
but you made me live like this instead.

and now i sleep in silence
a small grave behind the shed,
where no one visits.
where no one remembers.
but i remember.

i remember everything.

and still,
i hope your next dog knows only warmth.
and that if ghosts have teeth,
mine are dull.

because i only ever wanted to be good.
even if you never said i was.

Haiku - I Love You
How can I love you
More and more every day
That is the only way

Haiku – What’s Good
I don’t know what’s good
I only know what I like
Maybe you like it

Haiku – Question
I had an answer
What question did you ask me
Can you tell me now

Haiku – Bring the Light
If the night is dark
Will the sun still bring the light
Where will the stars hide

Haiku – Old Poet
Maybe an old man
Might still learn some old tricks yet
An old poet writes

Some feelings are shallow, some feelings are deep.
Some make us smile, some make us weep.

Some we love, some we don't.
Some we'll savor, some we won't.

Some grounding, some uplifting,
Some long-lasting, some constantly shifting.

No matter what feelings I'm feeling today,
I know tomorrow is only a day away.

This day’s solemn grace,
In shadows deep, in sacred space,
An eternal tale of sacrifice told,
Whispers at ancient, mysteries unfold.

Through darkness pierced by light divine,
A pathway to redemption and that very sacred sign,
In blood and tears, in love profound,
Hope rises from the buried ground.

The veil was torn, the earth did quake,
Yet in the silence, a promise awake,
Resurrection!  New birth!
Good Friday's sacred space.

My mother talks about you
a lot
almost worships you like
a god
Heard her talk about you
on calls
Always screams in my face
telling me to be a lot
like you
But listening to her
talk
I don't think I really like
you.

Do you know
how butterflies come to life?
It’s more frightening
than you might think.

Born crawling
a caterpillar,
close to the ground
naïve to the sky
simply existing,
tasting the world
leaf by leaf.

And then
it begins.
A hush inside the body,
a quiet undoing.
Behaviors shift,
instincts sharpen,
the soul sketches its wings in secret.
The old self unravels.

Did you know
that little caterpillar
melts into goo?
Not a creature in waiting
just formless, floating cells.
And from that
a butterfly emerges,
grown entirely
from what was already there.

I’ve been stuck in that goo
the nowhere between
trauma and metamorphosis,
neither alive nor lost,
just suspended.

But this summer
brought tears as ink,
and from the scribbled ache
came liberating wings
fragile but certain,
drawn from silence.

I've started flying.
But I still glance down
when I shouldn’t
afraid that my pride and joy
will be mistaken for arrogance.
Yet I’m proud
proud that I can love again.
Proud that flying
feels so familiar.

I like to land
booping noses of dogs
showing up beside strangers
on quiet benches.
To hear their voices
for the very first time
to sense the tremble
of their own becoming.
And when I look,
I see it:
a shimmer in their stillness,
a whisper in their pause.
The butterfly
still hidden in its goo.

And I hope
they’ll pass it on
this softness,
this seeing.

That ripple we call
the butterfly effect

They ask, “How are you?” I say, “Good,”
as if one syllable could
undo the unravel,
as if calm were a place I could travel
just by saying so.

As if good meant whole.
Not hollow. Not holding. Not holes
in a voice note from days ago,
when goodnight meant don’t go,
and goodbye meant I already have.

See, “good” hides in the corners:
in tired good mornings sent across borders
where time zones tangle like limbs once did—
I say good,
but I never meant for this.

Good grief is grief in a Sunday suit.
A tidy way to name the mess.
A eulogy wearing perfume.
A fire dressed up like a candle.

We stretch it over pain
like bedsheets that don’t quite reach the edge.
We say it for comfort. We say it instead
of I’m lonely, or I’m losing,
or I’m learning to lie to myself gently.

There’s good in goodbye,
but only when you don’t look back.
There’s good in goodnight,
but only if you’re sleeping side by side.
There’s good in being good,
but only if no one asks too much.

So no—
I’m not good. I’m practiced.
I’m polished.
I’m passable at pretending.
But ask me again,
and I’ll still say it.
Because it’s easier than explaining
what "good" could never mean.

Feed your demons,
don't starve them,
but don't stuff them with food too much neither.

Find a balance, keep them satisfied.
That's how they will remain in the line
and obey you.

Love them to some extent.
Never show them
that you hate that they hate you.