there is no good in goodbyes,
nor the rendition of the universe in who comes and goes,
when the lights have dimmed and I close my eyes,
I venture a seemingly lonely path when the cold wind blows,
there are no memories easily disposed,
from a soul who made me love my own,
for whom now may be the subject of my prose.
we savored the view of the sunrise,
and as the sun sets to dripping polychromatic skies,
I realized my soul was tethered with yours,
filled with a beautiful, dangerous, and impeccable force,
when words so widely known fail to express,
music and poetry were our language,
philosophizing life, death and even happiness
we begin to venture the chaos of our minds like a sage.
when the old wounds are pressed down to reopen,
and apologies begin to slice like a knife,
a sweet misery for an aching soul to resort to a pen,
weeping for time to heal what reason cannot.

the sunset is over, and as the darkness engulf us
I quietly cry and smile, our hands untwining
with such understanding that maybe this too, would pass
but how do we know when goodbyes become a new beginning?

IA

sitting across from you
at the white kitchen table
or cross-legged on my side of the bed
is someone hollow.
not as sweet as a fig. not as dead
as the inside of a black rotting trunk
but close. i do not hold beautiful things
like a terracotta vase. inside my head
is a seam ripper that splits everything
down the middle. sometimes
you are standing in front of the bright window,
glowing like a saint. sometimes
i let you fall into an algae-lined pool
that i will not pay to have cleaned.
everything is floating within me.
i haven’t figured out
how to anchor this stuff down.

no one ever taught me how

I am losing my passion to fear
Slowly succumbing, steadily sinking
Safety is a pin bursting a balloon
That is too cowardly to float
To be so faraway untethered
So shakily afraid of the unfamiliar
It would endure the blandness
The dullness
Of the safe and the known and the nothing
But the emptiness
That accompanies the dull ache
Is heavier than fear
And stronger still
Is the wind, the will
To taste the clouds
And touch the sky
It cuts clean off the string.