zooming down from space:
it's a gleaming drop of tear;
drying up too fast!

i feel like there is so much love left
when people leave us
and we have no idea what to do with them
so we keep them in boxes,
we store them in drawers
and sometimes,
we wear them on cold nights
when no one is watching.

all around us we make sure
we live in a place
with no trace of what has been
yet every closet is filled with the bones
of a dead love
and every corner is a reminder
of where we got lost

we hide the things they left behind,
we create mausoleums out of our rooms
and call it “moving on”

even my room is haunted
with his hasty departure
his old sweatshirt,
his silk necktie,
and the ocean blue summer dress he gave me
gather dust as a relic of a past
i have exhibited in the walls
of my broken heart

i buy cigarettes
and try to remember the taste of
his nicotine mouth
i study my face in the mirror
and try to remember the look of the girl
he fell in love with
i stay in the nights longer
i skip all the cracks in the pavement
i keep wishing he come back

one day i woke up
in a cold bathroom floor
filled with my tears and *****
that’s when I knew
where all the leftover love goes
it seeds hatred
then grows into despair
and finally bears the fruit of grief

there is no reasoning with a broken heart
only grief

and grief is the greatest leftover love there is
it spills all over
and seals your chest tight
until you feel no fight
and no other

so i waited and wasted away
until my ribs cracked
under the pressure of all the grief flowing out

and one day
i realized
i left one of his jackets
in my old apartment abroad
i couldn’t bring it any longer
my luggage is filled with so many new things
and his was a heavy garment
i just couldn’t carry anymore.

Ever since I was a child,
I have held near and dear
Fairy tales and whispers of More
Not often faithful belief but joy,
Wonder, lessons of morality mental pearls
That I might string, lively, worrybeads,
Which turn, fixed, Princess Periezade's grief,
No healing waters for transformed princes,
For the Magic has gone out.

It is no wonder that Pandora
In that box containing all plagues
Held too Hope, broken-winged, fragile, dull
Worst of all evils, to Nietzsche,
I understand him much better now,
It does truly prolong the torment,
The taunting cruelty that some tomorrow
May be better, but not tonight  
For the Magic has gone out.

You are alive.
This isn't Frankenstein where life isn't real.
You are alive. And that,
is the true gift.

You.
Are.
Alive.

With video games where you're reborn,
to movies where life continues in the afterlife,
you are constantly persuaded to believe that,
nothing ends.

Everything ends eventually,
including you.
But as for right now,

You.
Are.
Alive.

You might not fit in,
and you might not be perfect,
but you are yourself,
isn't that enough?

Isn't being alive on a planet,
where it was a miracle for life to even begin,
enough?
If it isn't,
then what is?

107,000,000,000 people have lived on this planet.
and you are one of them.
Take that and run,
or take that and stand.

Speak your mind.
Don't ignore opportunity.
Do what you desire.

Because one day,
you won't have that chance anymore.
You'll be silenced by the epidemic of the universe,
death.

I’m not supposed to be grieving
My Baby wasn’t supposed to die
How did this happen
How did I wind up counting dead roses
How did I wind up being reminded of proper funeral decorous
I can’t explain what’s going on
Something happened when that boy came along
That boy who started dating my firstborn son…
What has that boy done?

I’m not supposed to be burying my baby,
Shouldn’t be standing by a pile of dirt with no one to clutch my hand
I shouldn’t have ice in my heart over my pride and joy as I hold his jersey
How did anything ever go wrong for us
How did a present, devoted, loving mother and a smart, strong, sweet boy end up here
How could God let us find ourselves in a cemetery we have no way out of
I can’t reconcile this horrible day with real life
Something went terribly wrong
When that boy came along

I’m not supposed to be crying this hard nonstop
It was all so nice a week ago, throwing big parties
I shouldn’t be making a speech about my son in front of everyone
He supposed to be grounded for when his music rattled the room every day
But he’s not home, he’s supposed to be with me but he’s not
How did that boy who’d been so polite to me bounce into our lives and end everything good
Everything was wonderful like a Hallmark card
Until that cursed boy came to tear it apart

How? Why?
Why, why, why?

The day after your
death it snowed again. I thought it was spring.
The cosmos created crystals of water as it received you.
Welcomed as another star
to the vastness we here
on earth can not know
but with our feeble telescopes.

This day after your death
I want to protect anyone else
from leaving. I want to cling to
every thing I know. Yet my tears
are evidence of everything I do not
understand and never will. You are the mystery
now John, my brother.

My mind will not
absorb your death as readily as my heart.
My heart seems to hold and let go
because it needs to, in order to survive.
My mind wants to greet my heart
but it just keeps snowing. Dreams
of despair.

You lived your recovery
like a man none other that I have seen. Lend us your strength, courage and wisdom
while in our sorrow. Fortune allowed us to witness
all your strengths.

You shared your weaknesses
so readily. I am stronger because of you.

If you are there please comfort those who have less strength. You were a pillar for so many. We still want to lean on you.
I feel so weak now
the day after your death.

When you left, despite me knowing you'd leave, the shock was still apparent.

The bedroom light is left on.
I take melatonin to fall asleep.
My stomach is always empty despite eating.
I fixate on your last breath.
Your chest rising.
Your chest falling.
Your quiet little sigh.
Your face tensing and then relaxing.
I make a mini shrine on my dresser out of your pictures.
I call my dad and realize that's gone too.
I dream of roads I've never traveled on.
I dream of flying to Texas and leaving here forever.
I dream of escaping.
The house is empty.
No one tells you of the shock or the trauma.
You just understand, that as soon as you can comprehend it, Death is for us all--young and old, terminally ill and seemingly perfectly healthy, parent or child, high school alumni or dropout, wife or fiance, girlfriend or best friend, young and old

I keep wilting carnations in my room.
Anything with an expiration date reminds me of the loss.
I try to remember your commanding voice and your loud laughter.
I try to love.
I try to care.
I keep your pictures to remember your face before...you changed.

Now all I try to forget are the changes.
I try to forget you saying you weren't hungry.
Your food scraping off the plate into the garbage.
You saying you weren't hungry.
You sleeping in until 10am.
How you used to get up at 6am sharp every morning.
You saying you weren't hungry.
You not talking anymore.
You...emaciated and frail.
You...changing.
Your pain.
The sound of the concentrator humming.
The mechanical noises of the defibrillator and its exhausted sigh.
You saying you weren't hungry anymore.
Your last breath.
Your quiet little sigh.
Your serene smile.
Everything was so tired, grandpa.
Everything was so tired...