If we meet again
and I think we will
maybe in another lifetime
you won’t remember
what you did to me.
Not the breaking,
not the silence,
not the way I begged with eyes you never understood.

And still,
I’ll try find you.

I’ll walk through the lives I’m given
searching for the shape of your hands,
the way your voice hesitates before lying.
I’ll know it,
even in another language.


Some loves aren’t meant to be safe
just permanent.
Etched into the soul
like a name we forget
but still flinch at when it’s spoken.

But if I catch a glimpse of you
on a crowded street
or in the eyes of a stranger
I’ll stop.
I’ll look.
And I’ll let my heart break
all over again.

Because loving you
was never a choice.
It was a sentence
I accepted
lifetimes ago.

I’ll look for you
Even in places
I know you aren’t.

Because love like this,
doesn't just die
even when we do.

Addiction, Obsession 

I don't know the difference

Nor do I really care 

You're so toxic 

Yet here I am 

Asking for more

better that the dome of night shiver
below sinful seraphim, their nacreous orbs fuming laws inferred,
epiphany pooling like molten steel
in the tarnished bloodstream of a lone truck bed,
besainting dearth as chrism oil,
alluding that running became sacrament,
that being torn asunder was a humility,

than to lie dumb beneath haughty asterisms
seeking evasive sonants on steamy glass,
where “love” thawed like an eidolic oath,
and i, benighted author of crave, parrot
your rebirth as if invoking an evensong,
loath to forsake the vow of your dawn,
because to conceive oblivion would be the true heresy.