I would describe this feeling as pain,
but it doesn’t quite hurt like being burned.
And it doesn’t feel like being completely incinerated either.
No, it’s a dull ache. A deep feeling of loss.
Even my body doesn’t know how to process it.
Not that my body knows how to process most things.
My stomach is bad at digesting dairy and anger .
My ears don’t interpret conversations very well,
And my tongue can’t stand spice.
Spice burns. A pain I can identify, but can’t tolerate.
Heartbreak aches like a black hole. Cold. Empty.
What was once a burning star has been changed,
Rendered into an all-consuming, lifeless nothing.

Despite the night’s serenity,
calm is far from what I feel.
There is only a slight breeze
as the storm inside rages on.

A year has passed since it
happened. Beginning and
ending all in one fell swoop.
Even now I don’t know the…  

Truth is a feeling, an under-
standing that seeps into your
being, that brings peace.
Or so I thought.

This truth only brings a storm,
a hurricane whipping around
my mind as I want to scream.
Truth does not always bring
peace. Sometimes it brings pain.

One man’s outbreak
Another man’s breakthrough
It struck us all
In different ways
It struck us all

We lost many
Despite our best efforts
Still mourning
We are all
Still mourning

We tried to connect
Through screens and masks
Locked inside
While we were
Locked inside

I wish i was here, still,
i wish i was here.
I wish that this thrilling film
had lasted for more years.
The minutes and hours spun,
your palm was in mine, warm,
It was always the second hand
i wish i had held on.

The quiet is now loud,
a life has been muffed, well,
i hear in this dead sound
a crippling church bell.
I see it, the golden domes,
white walls and the old fence,
with my lips as the closest for
the silence to speak itself.

Oh, like gaffed dice in street craps
are the seconds, how they fly,
and only a picture traps
her in a moment of time.
But the mirrors are covered now,
the chambers of heart - locked.
Isn't it strange how
life constantly gets mocked?

Yes, life constantly gets mocked,
with its loves and its hot teas.

I wish i was here, still,
i wish death has mocked me.

We dance and we stamp

our tears into the plank floor --


crying together.

I heard you cry for the first time
And I hope it lasts a little while
There were no tears
Just loss
It's like you're in search of a great sadness
There is none to be found
It's so peaceful here

And yet, you are still looking back
At the person you used to be, that you moved on from.
They carried you well, and they deserve to be mourned.
Regardless their weight
You've always held them lightly.

But others carry you now
And there is a responsibility to being loved
It asks us to be better and we should not refuse.

We're back in his house,

and my shoes are on the shelf --


And his shoes are not.

Condolences can

be a battle: whose loss, whose --


sorrow is greater?

thank god for the dead memory.
thank god, that it died while it was still good.
thank god, that it still resembles something i might’ve prayed for.

thank god, that i prayed for the death i didn’t know.
thank god, that my tears couldn’t well up
for the spring on the other side of your death’s door.
thank god, yours was the first rain that taught me
what umbrellas were for.

thank god, that thanking god is such an empty phrase.
thank god, that it won’t grant you afterlife praise.
thank god, you’re now only a picture on a wall.
thank god, the effigies i bear in mind cannot be canonized,
for the things they’ve never done,
and the people they never were.