Door locked, key slide through the mailbox,
Memories left to scatter in the wind of change,
Mail cancelled, potted plants discarded,
Plans left in favor of someplace better or new.

Photos glanced at and appreciated.
Relics of old at this stage,
Shirts sniffed, folded and placed in the drawer,
Leaving familiar for something better or new.

Beds made for later, letter propped on the table,
against the empty milk jug.
Floor swept, dirt pushed under the rug.
Obligations dismissed for a challenge better or new.


First step taken on the winding staircase.
I thought it would be busier, I guess comfort zones
are final resting places for the content or down beaten
I was once like that but now I hope to be better or new.

i was watered like a garden
then drowned in all the rain
they said it’d help me grow
but it just dilutes my taste.

(i was brewed like a strong *** of coffee
but i didn’t know how to say no
when they asked if i needed more ice cubes)

Knowing turned to loving
Loving turned to comfort
Comfort turned to silence
Silence turned to hurt

The pain
It comes and goes
A startled shame
That nobody knows

Four months today. Since he became mine.

4 months of peeling each others layers.

Layers of love, layers of conflicts.

Some almost fell off, some were a challenge to even budge.

We fell apart, only to collide once again.

The hard collision brought the toughest layers with it.

And here we are.

4 months later.

Honest, bare and exposed.

Closer than ever before.

No matter how hard our fears tried to stop us,

we can't fight destiny.

Sitting down.
Most of what we do.
Except for
the exceptional few.
That's beside the point.
Trinkets and
******* games.
Nothing else Is but fuel,
right, Harry? Right, Harry?
Blessed be. Nothing is sacred.

Sitting down.
Thinking about
what I want to do
before I bite
the big one.
I'd rather avoid
most people
than the
thought of an
abrupt decay.

I don't spend too much time there.
I know when I've had enough.

(...)

Think I'll leave my house
and then pass downtown
on foot headed to the freeway.

(...)

Think I'll slow my stroll
and then watch sunset
plummeting from the overpass.

(what an ill consolation)

You made me rediscover poetry as an art form of longing,
You make me comb my hair every morning.

You made me want to choose again my verbs and nouns with care,
You make me spray a bit too much perfume, to be fair.

You made it worth my while to know all the random facts,
You make me want to work more on my abs.

You made me a better person.
And even more so than before, you make that person
I carefully choose the verb: desire
I carefully choose the nouns: your hair, scent, body, and thoughts.

One carefully chosen pronoun: you.

I know you think I’m mad at you
Because I stayed silent when I dropped you off at your house
But if I’m honest
I knew I’d either cry or scream
If I opened up my mouth.

Mad? I wish I could be.