Three years ago to this very day,
I signed something of my soul away;

But that is love that doesn't last,
And present lives the longing past,
Though nothing of your face remains
In aught I look at, and the pains
Are well-healed scars, and I did best
To put all mementos to rest,
I even ceased to sing your songs,
Then made them my own, for these wrongs;

And still something of your prosody
Remains in my voice's melody.

Somedays I wish I were your mirror
For days you doubt yourself and your lips start to quiver
The days you second guess your outfit
To me, just to see you would be more than enough profit
From your encapsulating gaze and river-like hair
Would keep me staring at you for hours
Wondering are you faring well
Every remark causing me to dispel

To every outfit too tight, bright, just right
To every single compliment, gorgeous, Insatiable, a delight
I'd rarely be blind Justice, you'd look good in everything
Wishing moments like these were everlasting
On your off days, to your worst
Whenever you feel cursed
The reflection may be blurred, but never lies
Your tears only bring out the beauty of those portals
to your soul, gateways to the brain
Not being able to touch you would be insane

If I were ever punished to become any object
I'd choose to be your mirror and never object

Your lips whispered a curse
and brushed against mine.
Soft, like sparrows' wings,
inebriating as wine.
I know I am lost now,
wandering so many city streets
wondering if you'd find me here
and take me off bare feet.
I am calloused, I've become raw.
How can you, so far away
remember me at all?
The street lights are turning on now
it will soon be dark.
Tell me how
to live without a heart.

I once looked into your eyes, and felt time stop.
I once looked into your eyes, and saw nothing but black.

I’ve seen you soft, glowing and free;
I’ve also seen things you never wished for me

You turn as though caught in the phases of the moon;
full of light, half dark – a black hole in the sky

And somehow, every time I looked up,
you just never failed to catch my eye

And whether love is long lost,
and our futures set in stone,

I keep your memory tucked tightly away,
so that neither of us can truly be alone.

And I could just send him that poem
Because I know it's up his alley
I could, but it's a love poem
And we remember well what happened last time
I sent a love poem to his alley:
I lost it, until it returned, smeared in grime,
Torn up, upon the wind that carries the tumbleweed
And all my hopeless songs that I carried at the top
Of my then hoarse voice, now silken, sleek, with the greed
Of the alley-cat who knows how to survive the outcrop
Of shallow inconveniences like love, papercuts.
And we all know papercuts only hurt kids.

I love the smell of that oil
the one I rub in your hair
the one that clings to my hands
and to my skin
slowly seeping in
I can almost hear it.....
nestle in my molecules
becoming
becoming you.

I love the sound of that door
the one that scrapes
on the hardwood floor
the one that announces me
and lets me in slow..ly
I can almost see it
lodging in my brain.
becoming,
becoming you.

I love the taste of that lavender
the one that we killed...
the one that clung to your breath
and to your fingertips
delicate
I can almost smell it
settle in my bones...
becoming,
becoming you.

all the time.
The night I let myself
love you entirely.
The way my brain
broke down from resistance
to the time left.
I've never FELT
that out of body.

i’m glad that i met you
but i'm not sad
that you left.

officially it has been two years,
unofficially one.

I am happier elsewhere, and I can imagine you are too
still you remain
my inspiration for poetry,
art,
and my thoughts.

when I see her there with you,
I am not sad,
and I am not not happy
mostly, I wonder —

do you think about me still?
do you compare her to me?
I did, I compared him with you

even though I promised to him and myself
that I wouldn’t

but the mind does what it wants

do you fight like we used to, loud and aggressive?
or does that require years of confidence built up by baby love

do you love like we used to, admittedly & comparatively selfish and shy?
or was that our teenage bodies remaining in us past our 20th

mostly I try to remember how being freshly loved by you was
so much intense frustration, in all ways,
endless giggles, but often nights with dawn sorrow.
of course, I need to remind myself that there was bad
my mind tries to only highlight the good with you

mostly I wonder how such intense fighters
could turn to such formal friends
and mostly, I am disappointed that you haven’t
told me about her yet.