How could I escape all our secret places,
dark hours,
physical fights,
and emotional negligence?

How could I pass all our memories and
the people who have some of your features,
as if I’m searching for your smile,
gaze,
and redheaded handsomeness
through all the passersby?

How could I pray to God
not to keep me drowning in our days?

I’m not okay
I’m yearning to write
something perfectly precise
to show how much I endure this pain of
being apart from you

I miss calling you “Dad,”
“Husband,”
and all those words
I wish I could call you again.

What if you already found someone else and
forgot about me?
What if I was nothing to you?

I loved you through all this havoc that
tears me apart and chokes me with
hopeless thoughts.

How dare you,
after all our fights,
break the habit you always had
— speaking to me,
shouting and promising you’d never leave,
that you’d stay by my side forever?

Today, I’m alone
—without you,
without any hope.
Like a lost child who needs a hug,
unconditional love,
and a forever sanctuary.

I miss you like a dying soul
seeking refuge in life,
like an open ocean that
longs for closure.
Can’t you feel me?
You are my twin flame.
You should feel how much we were born
to be together.

I’m eating alone,
wandering alone,
and I’m not okay.

What kind of spell
could scar my memory so deeply
that it shuts you down forever?

every time a poem completed,
its state of affairs, certified & feted,
the boys gather 'round, for serious
series of slaps on the back, and
drunken wisdom words,
"you'll never do another one, better, boyo!"
and the dread of correct
feels me up,
filling me up
with cream filling
whipped up
anxiety
of the now seizured defeated

as I grab a clean sheet from top of the stack,
and the retired muses overhear,
delightedly, whispering to each other
just loud enough to hear
me shaking tremble,
"and right they are,
and write they are!*"

and yet, ex-poet, still a fool…
9:42pm
Wed Aug 6
2025

It hurts when you realize
that you’ve never been enough,
and all your beautiful features
used to be treated like
they never existed
Let’s go back to
the hollow void
with all those voices of
ours being tortured and
splitting into piece
Memories are no longer great excuses
for dashing ourselves into
the longing trap
We are increasingly
accepting our loneliness