Remember all the bad days?
How they would shift sideways?
The two player mind games,
The nicknames, and proclaims,
The blames, claims, the shame.
And we always agreed on one thing,
Everyday was never quite the same.

The good days were memorable,
remarkable, but often forgettable.
Putting you up on a pedestal,
Was my way of being humble,
Even now, as I stumble and fumble,
To remember the cuddles, the struggles,
the subtle mumbles, as time crumbled.

Those days were neither good nor bad,
Neither purely happy nor purely sad.
They were days we lived, felt alive,
Though short-lived, somehow we survived.
And one day we will strive to revive;
To reclaim the days together.
Refusing surrender, remaining tender,
Always and forever; together —
In our hearts.


— Sincerely, Boris

Some days are good days
Some days are bad days
Some days I simply exist

You are my good days.
My full belly laughs.
You are my safety.
You are my cant eat, cant sleep, cant think.
My smile, reaching for my ears
the way you always reach for my hand.
However,
You are also my bad days.
My cry until I cant cry anymore.
You are my sore throat.
My frown lines etching themselves
into my face like they own her.
My contempt.
Oh how I soften when you pull me against you.
The beauty in your eyes.
Tender kiss landing on my skin.
I forget about the bad days.
After all before I met you,
I had so few
good days.

I have good days as well as bad
I'm still learning to love myself how I am
Self love is an everyday battle
But it's a battle that I refuse to lose

~sdr

I told you that you should always be
thankful, things are getting
better, the process
is just rather slow,

and I told you that the proof lies
in the fact that you still have some
sanity left today,
if things weren't getting better,
then what else
could you be holding onto?

my chest tickles
energy is an odd feeling after many months of emptiness
i sang to the birds today because i woke up and did the dishes
no i didn’t put a bra on but the dishes didn’t mind
my mother tells me i am a good girl, and i am
i smile without her knowing that is the greatest moment of my week

Sure, there are events
That mnemonically make sense,
But the entirety of that day, yes,
Slips as we take new steps
Toward the promised morning beyond our essence.
Trials become more, we grow to become less,
Something we need not confess,
For it cannot be concealed, even in our code of dress.
There are groans for the day to cease and those for the day to onward press,
How can this opinionized split be reconciled? Unless
Our own lives we assess
And remember those moments that still impress
Our minds and attitudes, this can we address.
When the day and our remembrance
Of it seem to fade in all hopelessness
Of retrieval, remember at least the happiness
That kissed you in distress,
That lifted you like incense.
A quintessence
Of what it’s like being on the fence
When time unleashes an offense
In weak defense
Against what we hold nevertheless
Not with hands, but with dense
Feelings, those with irreplaceable innocence.