It was on November,
when you stopped writing me poems,
giving me notes
and singing me songs.

It was on November,
when your hugs
felt a bit lighter.
When before,
They used to be so much tighter.

It was on that month
when the fall began.
When the ghosts of the past,
came hunting us back
In the form of someone.

And I watched as you fell,
on the graves
of an old love.
Leaving me in pieces.

I buried you in peace,
Not a single tear I shed.
Because you said,
it would be a shame
to cry for a man so lame.

So I never did,
I never cried.
Now, the ghosts no longer comes back.
And the only ones that never cease
on hunting me,
Were our memories.

- Juju

Something happens every night at sunset. Blue turns to yellow. Hot fluorescent pink and red. Do you watch the sunset every night like I do?

I want to chase you like I want to chase the sun across the sky. All the way to Oklahoma and across New Mexico, pink mountains and ochre deserts. And then to the ocean, dazzling light on every wave. I'll chase the sun all around the earth and never live in darkness. One perpetual morning. A fresh cup of coffee that never goes stale.

And then somehow it flutters open again. The memory of the way you made me feel; the way I felt; that it's all so fleeting after all. Why do people go away?

The creek runs heavy in spring. Rushing, rushing, rushing. But, I can't place my finger on what the stream is, after all. Each particle moving so fast---it's gone before I can perceive it. A current, moving in a constant state of change.

I stared too long at the stream last week and that night I dreamt it as clear as day. I dream of you, too, sometimes. My face buried in your neck. You smell like a memory. Like an illusion.

Now the moon is full like the street lamp. This is the hour when parents get scared and call you in. Every shadow plunged to deep velvety blues. The smell of grass on my trousers. Crickets singing up the stars. Am I safe in this moment? Am I safe here?

We're laughing. It's the moment the laugh rises. I want to reach out and put you in my pocket before the release. Before it's over. Please don't go.

This. This is craving.

Love is something very very least expected. Love is letting go. Love is the exact opposite of the fear of losing. Love is wherever you are, wherever I am, cool and calm and going with the flow.

I'm numb, i can't feel
I want to feel pain
at least thats an emotion
Tears no longer come
my eyes are dried out

I've lost sleep
I want to feel guilt
that too feels like a stain
I want to scream
an empty echo follows

I question my choices
am i not deserving
All i ask is to feel human
acknowledge my rights
am i seeking too much

Faces of strangers haunt me
It hurts to close my eyes
So i made a choice
To sit and feel
To hold on to anger as fuel
To let go but never forget
I can't stop, won't stop
I chose Confidence.

It wasn’t “I love you”
but at least it was goodbye.

I held on so tightly, white knuckled , until it felt like it was impossible to let go.

And everyday I thought it was getting better but in the back of my mind my fingers were starting to cramp.

Eight months is too long to hold on to what could have been, what should have been, what isn’t.

The phone will not ring anymore, my screen will not light up reading your name.

The empty promise of you always being there can finally be laid to rest.

Because I don’t need it.

It’s time to relax my tired hands because it’s been too long since I have reached out. for something new

I  complete myself
never needed
you to feel complete.