what do i do with all this love left in my heart for you?
what do i do when i found my favourite person but the world doesn't want us to be together?
why did we meet only to be separated?
grief is love with nowhere to go
and with all this love left in my heart for you
i will never stop grieving

Miserably, I'll cling to the fading moments
I spent with you in my bed.
Fed up with things ending too early, I'll constantly
be fending for those soft touches and empty hushes.

Empty.
What a word to describe how I feel knowing you'll
be gone by Sunday, without waiting for me to heal.
Monday will come and my heart will shudder.
Flutters, that soft, delectable feeling that I felt in my stomach
will drop and stop, halting all pleasantries.

Finish
me off with one last kiss,
Make me miss
you until I fade from the confusion.
The pollution
that you have caused to build up in my chest
Best be worth the final touches you caress
onto my skin.

Sin-fully,
I'll compare your clear brown gaze to the
murky lust, dirtied by others.
I wonder if you ever had any room under your covers.
I wonder if I ever had any pull on you, ever.

Never,
Ever
will I ever want to weather that weather-y storm you've
measured with buckets of rain
painfully, locking onto my chest
glued to my teeth
Mistaken.
Misled.
My soul feels erasably unfed.

I bled.
I bled. I ******* bled when you held me in my bed
and the words of your utter denial
Cried out between us, causing a separation
I wanted nothing to be with.

God, just three weeks. That's it.
Three weeks, peaking my emotions to their
utter, serene, intoxicating HIGH.
My, what kind of magic have you poured
into my veins.
I didn't think you could ever be the cause of this much
Pain.

Wait.
I didn't want to be another one.
For me, I've always been the detached one.
The one with a dismissal attitude, a missile
of self-confidence and independence.

Impermanence was all you were ever offering.
While I always was offering you my everything.
Foolishly, albeit. Albiet, foolishly.
I'll be it. I will be it. I swear it. I'll be yours.
But **** it, you don't need it.

So?
Now what?

...

I'll go back inside and recreate
that tall, thick wall of utter
strength and unwavering singularity.
Single.
No more tingle in my bones, woe me.
Woe is me, all right.
Hope for me, that I can fight with all of my might.
If only I had the power to push you away
before it's too late, before I hate even a cell
of that specific date.
May. Thirteenth.

SUNDAY.

My wedding bands,
my three gold,
three strand
wedding bands
don't fit any more.

They remain unmoving
with no room for turning.
They don't hurt, they're just tight,
because they haven't grown with me
as they might have,
could have,
should have,
would have done
had I paid more attention
to the coming undone.

They remain,
but they don't fit anymore.
My three gold, three strand,
stuck-in-the-80s wedding bands
don't fit me anymore.

He reached into the paper bag his friend handed over and pulled out a small picture frame.

“Do you want it?” his friend asked.

He turned it over carefully to see what was in the frame. Through the glass, he saw a beetle mounted in cotton, displayed along with a strip of paper that held its name. It looked like something good to have hanging in his room.

“Yeah, but why?” No one just gives away nice things. At least no one gives stuff away without a reason.
“Why, what?”
“Why are you just giving stuff away?”
“Oh,” silence, “I just don’t need it.”

It was a non-answer, a truism, something people say just to get people to asking questions without lying. That’s not enough, he thought. If there was anything he knew about his friend, it was that he liked to talk.

“Wait, so why don’t you need it?”
“Just take the whole bag. Maybe just give back the 3DS games”

He turned the frame around. There was a mark in the back, like someone tried to open it up with ballpoint pen that ran out of ink. Whoever made it gave up after one try but still managed to leave pinholes in the cardboard.

“Are you sure?”
“I think you’re asking too many questions for free stuff, guy”

He looked through his friend’s bag, wondering what else was inside. It was clothes, mostly, and ruffling through it wafted up a scent. The smell and the fabric, it was decidedly feminine to him. He had more questions, more thoughts to investigate.

A car, pulled over next to them. “My ride’s here,” his friend said.

He looked at the beetle. Its wing casings were a sickly yellow. He saw a few writhing brown dots come from under it. He felt sick. Maggots, he thought.

“Carlos,” he called out, handing back the bag, “I’ll keep the beetle”

His friend turned back, took the bag and left.

rested, sealed in a cloud.
through the panes of my reflection,
she lay still. preserved,
at a point in time.

carefully, it was made
a heaven for her,
black, against the snow,
a delicate frame.

freedom, hers was sought
in a vain attempt,
too easily, given up,
it left a desperate mark.

made to cut her loose

unnoticed, beneath her.
her eyes looked forward,
unrelenting, yet absent.
my gift remains pristine.

faded, her elytra
are pale and sickening.
yellowed, they conceal
many writhing guests.

unmoving, she remains,
but a stranger to life.
a gift, she is,
rotting from the inside.

my love, life is enormous

life is a creature with eight tails and six heads
life devours suns for breakfast and eats moons for desserts

you and I are the specks it feeds upon,
and at the same time it feeds us,
so life is made of people: friends, enemies,

loved ones,

so, love, life cannot be lived without people.
life cannot be lived without living all it has to offer

because life is enormous.
it is a creature
with more hearts than tails or heads