and alone, i rediscover my old habit of making out stars from the trenches
and finding the road of your childhood home changed
sky to sky
and you are not    the first snow
but you will witness the snow fight
the boys spoke no other language than their own
they threw, and fell, and built larger shadows of three
inseparable ever since
laughter disappearing into walls
i rediscover city lights flickering off
closing shop, on the bed singing into a screen
‘goodbye’
‘you will see me later’

I know the wind
cries for me.
The birds sing of
my loneliness from
the sky.
I don't even see
you in my dreams
anymore.
Your red dress
hangs from the mahogany
coat rack, and the
storm clouds in my mind
never go away.
Baby, these miles
and miles are making
me soul sick, and this
trumpet will be the
death of me yet.

i wonder
how we managed
to convince our hands
not to hold onto each other
when we said goodbye.

now, i'm writing
inside this flying can;
thinking this might be the closest
to a home.

these small seats,
with even smaller legs space.
these funny-shaped windows,
where all you can see are
white clouds,
and sporadically
some lights.
tiny houses,
with even tinier people.

and us,
tiny giants,
reading overpriced perfume catalogs,
listening to mispronounced english,
using disposable low-fidelity headphones,
inside low-light low-love low-cost
low-everything
airplanes.

So you're happy now
with another man
at home with our son
I will always be his dad
you told me
and I thank you

Just so you know
I never stopped loving you
I never stopped being ****
but I never stopped loving you
when your skin is liquid
and your teeth rattle in your skull
I will still love you

When the earthworms
use your eye sockets as tunnels
and when all men have either forgotten
or are too scared to speak your name
I will still love you
you deserve to be happy
and you are right to move on
if you feel as though your dreams with me
are truly dead and gone
just know that I still love you
love the father of your son