I never really noticed you for the simple fact that
That men grab at me all the time, when you do I
Thought you were one of them but…..I felt the
Love in your touch….. turn around and see you with your
Darkly and dangerous good looks  I want ed to talk to you
But I had to finish my dance after that I talked to you … you
Kiss me softly as well as well as your touch I still don’t know
Much about you.   But yet I loved  you being with me
Or love I thought was going to last that was until
You said that we could not I insisted to be with you
That drove you insane, the idea of being with me
Instead of you job
It hurt more than you strangling me
Why this betrayal of me
As I stilled loved you to the last breath

I thought I found love but
Only found my self  dead
On a hotel bed in a ******
Hotel room,
Murderer was the
One who I thought loved
Then I wake up in my own bed room
It’s 2024 and I am safe I think I am
But I am not sure
Memories of a past reincarnation

In another life,
perhaps it was
you and I—
there, we laughed
a little more,
held on
a little longer.

But here,
we’re fragments,
familiar faces,
strangers in the heart.

We spoke of other lives,
but, I wonder—
do you see
we’re bound to this one,
with only one chance
to learn our way through?

When the apocalypse comes, I will remember the days I was not allowed to be myself.
When the land will tremor, the insects inside me will crawl towards the edge of my soul.
The regrets beneath me will lay out like a web of cracks on an aged wall with no end.
When my body will be underneath the fallen ceiling, I will wail remembering the burden of my emptiness that once felt like nothingness.
When the keepers of my soul will put a name to my existence, I will designate it as "life",
And if they tell me that reincarnation is real, I will still want to be me but with a different mind,
And in any parallel world, if flowers would fall from the sky, I will want to be me but with a different heart,
And if they will tell me that life will be short, I'll be a chirping bird in the eyes of my cat.
I'll be the sound of dripping water that fascinates a little girl.
I'll be a saccharine melody in the times of war.
I'll be a moment of an autumn leaf falling onto a bed of dry leaves.
I'll be a nimbus cloud to a deserted barren land.
I'll be a book in the bag of a poor boy.
I'll be a candy in the hands of a child,
I'll be the essence of lilies to a pleasing garden.
I'll be a beam of revolt to a captured slave.
I'll be a proud smile on a martyr's mother.
I'll be the infinite possibilities of incarnation after the apocalypse.

I call to my own depths
and the love of my life appears
and manifests my long ago forgotten dream.

So now I live the dream
knowing it is illusive and imagined
and infused with the flavor of realness.
Yet, only I am real and it
is seen by no one that this too is
an unreality. Nothing sees itself.
Nothing yearns for nothing.
Blank void cries and laughs
at its own reflection and
make-believes its world to exist
only for its own amusement.

Come play, my only friend!
Go away then come once more
to me and let us dance and laugh
and sing again and again in being
all the varied endless waves.

there's this theory, my mom once told me,
that liars are always reincarnated as dogs
i've been thinking a lot about people dying lately
and i've also started counting time in dog years
according to such, it's been about two long dog decades
i don't miss you anymore, and i'm about done grieving you
(you would've just called me out- i'm a liar through and through)
and i found that if i drink enough, you're still here, well and alive
your mom never cries or loops your old playlists when she drives
your dad never comes over to gift me souvenirs from your life
your sister never learns to shape grief into an essay in one night
no, you're still helping her brainstorm what exactly to write
we stay up together, on facetime, stressing the the entire night
and she chooses premed because of a torn ACL, not a torn family
and we spend hours debating if she should submit her SATs
and grief is only ever-so-distant, yet only oh-so-familiar
we have it our way: it is never more than a recognizable stranger
i write you in present tense, you agree: dogs in our next life
i gaslight, i lose my mind, i'm convinced anything's worth a try-
so, how many poems do you think i have to write
for it to be enough to bring a friend back to life?

I have not grown wiser in my waning years
more bitter
more disappointed
more beaten
'what's your advice to me old man?'
advice?
while the world crumbles around us?
let's just hope that there is more than what we know
for if the world is left to drift further into the abyss
without intervention
then who will see these words?  
or come say a prayer over your memory?
I always thought it cruel that if our soul moves from one to another
we don't recall the previous life...
or is it just one life with no memory?
I want to remember for we shall certainly leave the ashes of this dismal place...
soon
and all those memories will be lost
in time

(R.I.P. - Rutger Hauer)