This isn't him,
This can't be the face he's left here,
This isn't the face he's used to seeing,
Solidified in the mirror.
It can't be the current one,
Or even close,
It's not at all how he recalls from the ponds he's known.
Not the one admired,
On crystal clear days,
Or the one sang with,
Through some humming nights.
Maybe his memory is just fogged up,
Maybe this reflection is just blurry from the showers,
They'd have burned others skin.
Still this can't be the face.
Not with the potholes for eyes,
Waning moons for lips,
And cliches for brains.
Or maybe things,
Maybe they do just change,
Maybe sometimes somethings sink in the earthquakes,
And are never swam in again.
Maybe sometimes there's no hope for reversal, redemption,
Or some rectifying light to right what's left,
Only hope in surviving the new.
I guess that's all there ever was.
If only he had it sooner,
He would have thrived in the old world,
Found melodies in the days and more mirror-less memories for the nights.
Only then could things be better off,
Different.

The buildings of Upper East Side swell with exhaust fumes
and the roads sweat foul-smelling tar,
while Central Park drips green and magenta,
as friends **** on strawberries
beneath the last of the summer sun.
Butterflies chase children,
children chase kites,
dodging marigolds
that suffocate between blades of grass.
Bird song and police siren compete for centre stage,
and clammy suited men seek shades of green on their lunch break
escaping their lives between midday and one.

In the sky
rafts of white cloud crafts the arrival of autumn,
the park drinks the last of September’s rays.
Maples blush as October lures in the park with a lullaby.
Once-glycerined green leaves
burned by a summer sun
form parachutes that glide
left  
        to
               right
and spill like coloured pencil shavings.
Warm currents retreat the advancing brisk amber sunsets,
submerging the park in an oily gold blur.
Clouds, swans, boats,
all float upwards
as Autumn peacefully carries Summer to its end.

I wonder when I'll hear from you
Will I hear from you?
I guess these things have their own rhythm
A course of actions
Unfolding at the precise moments
That they need to

A cadence
Sometimes so bold
So quick and fiery
It makes me melt
It makes me bend
It makes me feel conscious again

Then it fades
Goes cold and crumbling
It's as if
The landscapes of our fate
Were barren to begin with

In this time of fluidity
Of movement and transition
I want to feel grounded

I want to feel like I belong
Together with you
Do I?
Or am I just waiting?
For these moments that seem like they're fading

To conflate into a meaning
A purpose
A feeling
That I've been missing all along?

I wanted to grow
Transform
Expand
And just...
Move on

And when I hear you speak
With joy and sunshine in your words
I can't help but wonder
How all this light
All this love
All this joy
Came from the ruins
Of a soul once burned black

This liminal romance
I am transformed
Reborn anew

She said she didn't mind
If you stayed for a minute
A season
Or a lifetime

I'm on my way
Towards feeling the same

Perfection is a virus
You have to survive it
Flaw by any variant
whoever  makes it apparent
Misery loves company
Sorta like an infection

Oh boy oh boy
Are you listening now
When I was young and misunderstood I made my vow
When I got older and grew bolder
I became a clown
And as things headed south
Well they are still headed south
Im just old enough to know better
Whatever better is
And still young enough to not really know what to do right now

They say love is many things
And you can love three times
They say its a chemical reaction
Then after that it takes time
I dont think I've loved like that before
So i don't mind

I've been hurt by my past infatuations  
I'm human
So there's a hole in my heart where that part use to be

And i know there's a hole in your heart that's filled with the very part of me

I don't mind this thang
I dont mind it at all
For anything to bare it's fangs
We all just get older

Growing pains...