You will forever be the essence of my only sun.

I will love you till the day I die, I will say a prayer to you every night.

No matter the time of day I will always talk to you.

Every. Step. Of the way.

You are the essence of my sun  because you could bring the whole world to its knees with just your smile.

I would do anything to see you again..

And I hope you know that.

I need time
To be normal again —
If I can ever be the way I was

I need time
For those thousands of emotions to settle —
If they can ever settle  

I need time
To not cry
To beat the sadness
To sleep well —
And not to wake up with an aching heart

I need time
For my mind to clear
To function logically

I need time
To smile again
To tell you that everything is okay

Because it’s not okay
I am not okay

So don’t tell me to move on just now
Don’t tell me to not hold on to the past
Don’t tell me this and that

Because I loved deeply
And I love deeply

Because I am grieving —
And though for someone, it may be one less person in a world of over 8 billion people
To me, she was my mother, my world

Some departures we choose,
and some departures are forced upon us—
They arrive with the weight of mountains,
practiced in hesitant steps,
as if dragging the entire world behind us.
We move forward a little... then glance back a little,
for behind us lie things, dreams, souls,
to which our hearts remain tethered.

it doesn't sound as terrifying
if you split it into
a million deaths,
a million lives, lost individually.
we're wasting our humanity
on empty background noise.
we're forced to lock our gates,
avert our eyes,
pay mortgage with our souls.
it doesn't seem quite as finite
if you just take your pills
and track your progress,
while they wash all the blood
off of the hands
that hold our future hostage.
a million deaths,
a million possibilities,
surrendered individually.

I have forgotten what my mind was like
before I met you.
You are the first thought—
and the last.
Who was I before?
Did I write?
Did I laugh?
Maybe.
Maybe my life was simpler—
a quiet loop,
a routine with a predictable rhythm.
Maybe I woke up sad.
I can’t remember anymore.
I looked for her—
the girl I was—
in the books I swore I loved more than you.
In the moon,
but it never looks the same now.
Not since you.
Your words haunt me.
They live in the corners of things.
They ruin songs.
They ruin sleep.
But it’s okay.
I let them.
I look for you in other bodies.
I tell the same jokes.
Nobody laughs the way you did.
I get new answers I didn’t ask for.
It’s silly.
Stupid.
Obsessive, even.
I spent more time missing you
than holding you.

I was given a gift, a tender thing
A heart that knew the songs to sing.
So full of love, so soft, so true,
It held a cure the cold once knew.

It cost me more than I could pay,
Yet still, I chose to give that way.
To thrive, it needed hearts as kind,
With gentle hands and quiet minds.

I wandered far through souls and faces,
Through empty halls and crowded places,
To find a heart that dared to feel,
To break, not hide behind what’s real.

But all I found were sharpened minds,
With pride and reason intertwined.
They saw its cracks, they mocked its beat
Too soft to win, too quick to bleed.

Each time it met a colder flame,
It broke in ways I couldn’t name.
I tried to guard it, held it tight,
But it was born to lose that fight.

And then I saw, with aching eyes,
That I, too, judged it, cold and wise.
I weighed it not in love, but thought,
And killed the grace that can't be taught.

A gift too pure for minds so keen,
It dimmed where coldest thoughts had been
So in the dark, I dug a grave,
For all the love I couldn’t save.

And there it sleeps beneath my chest
A precious gift, laid down to rest.

Both sending letters,
they tore their love apart—
each line like a "don’t leave me,"
they looked like real love letters.

Reading between the lines,
you’d see who played the part.
The strange thing is, the culprit
was not of either heart.

Jealousy, the silent fire,
gave context and reasons,
possessing their prey,
it moved without control.

Can love be found again,
by one who shared the blame?
Can a fractured soul find wholeness
through forgiveness, love, and name?

Your sorrowed letters shake me,
each farewell cuts me through.
Some of us never get letters—
not of friendship, nor of loss,
much less of love from you.

A coffee swells in waxy skin
The city squints through windowed glare
She’s creased inside a wrinkled dress
Her shape hangs limp in laundered air

A payphone rang, one ghost, one ring.
No one moved. We all just knew.
A siren dragged its echo past,
delivering a distant queue.

Fluorescent hums a migraned god.
My coat spins slow behind the glass,
zipper beats like trapped bird wing.
A sock grins dumb from wire racks.

This street is lined with yellow stain,
lights too bright for folks this small.
I sipped, I burned, I thought her name,
it drifted in suburban sprawl.

She’s someone else’s Sunday now
in fresh-washed light, her hair tucked neat.
Vanilla steam and honeyed bread
laughing soft in kitchen's heat.

The dryer stops. A broken chime.
Just silence, stretching like a neck.
I crack, not loud. Just wide enough
to feel the break beneath my breath.

Here my soles are worn too thin
A half-full cup, a sleepless eye,
no grace, no hand to lift away,
this curb, this ache, this grayer sky.

when you make another one
don't forget to recycle what's left of me,
don't forget to pay the copyright fee
just in case i rise from the grave
to reclaim what's mine.

when you look in her eyes,
does the lack of knowledge excite you more
than all of my suffering could before?
does she still respond to my name
or do you get to pick a new one?

she's not me, but i wish she was.
see, it really was you and me both
tired of the lack of variables,
but it felt like we were getting close.
now it's your turn to figure it out.
and if worst comes to worst,
do remember,
you can always make another one.