#connections
We kept missing each other
by minutes
by moods
by trains
Like two umbrellas
in different rains
You called at night
Your voice sounded small
the way cities do
after snowfall
I said:
“Come over.”
You said:
“Maybe.”
The oldest word
for no
Outside
the traffic lights
changed loyally
red to green
green to red
Meanwhile
nothing moved ahead
Later
I stood in the kitchen
drinking wine
that tasted tired
The fridge hummed softly
like bad advice
Somewhere upstairs
someone dropped something twice
I thought of you
removing your earrings
beside some borrowed bed
The strange thing:
it hurt less
than all the words
we never said
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 10:26 AM UTC
It was not an easy moment,
nor was it pleasant.
I didn't like to be exhibited
like a product by a merchant.
Then I saw the client—
a man I didn't know,
whom I didn't like
and didn't want
to marry.
Yet the merchant,
devoted to his work,
forced us to meet and speak—
until we knew every part
of each other's life.
We started like
two weak magnets
both of the same pole
—slightly repelling—
then were like
metal and compass—
one pulled to the other,
fatefully drawn.
And so our souls were married,
and soon our worldly bodies
were too.
Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 5:08 AM UTC
leafing through my threads,
i thought about the cut ones, the ones that had been severed too soon,
too early, and only the frayed ends remained.
all entwined and tangled now.
i missed the time when they were all organised,
but now, i found my indulgent vermillion
looped between sage, violets and sky blues.
none the actual colour they claimed to be
and i sat as dusk faded into night and into sunrise
for days, weeks, months
time passed, or perhaps it stopped?
just for me, as i untangled my threads,
but desperate as i was
they only seemed to grow more knotted,
as though they had coils of steel
rather than the soft textile i was so familiar with.
but for all my efforts,
i had failed to see my own threads begin to unravel too.
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 2:24 PM UTC
winters long dark reach
clouded subliminal mysteries
creating universal experiences.
Feb 2
Feb 2, 2026 at 11:49 AM UTC
Present in body, yet absent in spirit-
that’s how the tides tend to roll.
But my spirit was in it,
along with my heart;
the body never quite made it though.
A stream once so ethereal-
A thin veil between fact and fiction,
dipping my fingers and toes
became my new addiction.
Waters once so smooth
welcomed a hurricane by low tide.
If only we were smart swimmers,
we wouldn’t have stayed in for the ride.
But the beaches along this clearing,
home to sand that changed time,
where love is never ending-
so long as pain and pleasures rhyme.
On this beach I built a sandcastle,
large enough for two.
Every time someone moved in though,
they’d fall right through the roof.
They never liked the seaweed carpet
or the beds made from debris;
typically they draw the line
at a foundation that’s structure free.
And how could we ever blame them,
for wanting something steady?
The girl who never felt like home
is the woman who’s never ready.
Oct 15, 2025
Oct 15, 2025 at 5:18 PM UTC
I dreamt we were in bed
Your arm draped lazily over me
tangerine glow dripping
down your velvet face. You marveled
at the earth-shattering gravity
of our coming moments, subtle smile brightening
your sleepy eyes, "how did we get here?"
how did i get here?
In dreams, you're all of it,
all of yourself, the best parts
of me, everything
that made me clutter past
lovers into this small space
in my heart.
In dreams, you're everything
I've ever loved about everyone
I've missed— the Frankenstein
father my daughter will never have—
But you're not real,
You only exist in the perfect space my brain's created
out of the fragments you left.
Maybe in a way, I loved you— absent from eternity;
out of gratitude for opening
my heart to the idea of love
with anyone who saw me
enough to feel it— Gratitude
for allowing me to love
myself candidly
in my revival.
I hold space for that
I still live in your shadow in some ways,
creeping through
the memories this town has
of you,
leaving my own behind
in my imminent departure.
I'll never be absent of you
I'll never be absent of you
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 8:37 PM UTC
my grandma visited a year ago
I think about it regularly
reminiscing on our joint memories
she'd never visited before
she said this might be her last chance
I assumed she meant to visit
that she would get too old to travel
but when her hug lasted two seconds longer
than I thought it should
but when I saw her eyes glisten
in the dim hotel light
but when her voice cracked
as she said 'goodbye'
I wondered if she didn't in fact mean that
this would be the last chance for her to visit
and instead it would be her last chance to see me
her granddaughter.
It wasn't that she was dieing
but we were never that close
not enough for me to make the trip to visit
a burden I always took on myself
even though she was the adult
with a phone she could call me on,
suddenly her efforts felt not enough,
and a little too late.
Aug 19, 2025
Aug 19, 2025 at 5:37 PM UTC
And to say, “find yourself a fit woman running laps on your mind –
and catching her breath just means she’s sitting comfortably on
your lap,” is really just a sprint into pleasing the flesh, a race with
no real finish line. And to say you haven’t tasted her in a while,
where one bite makes you relapse – a crack in the glass, it takes two
to tango… but when she starts throwing shade, you start asking
about her love, and where did that perfect tan go.
Maybe I’ve had many partners, but truthfully, most only lived in
my head – my biggest problem was always thinking too far ahead.
A big head, as the women I never touched became intimate in
dreams, yet so intimidating in real life. My insecurity became these
imagined thoughts, and those thoughts made them always fly away.
As my love sickness was a cluster of flu – practicing patience, yet
overthinking until everything failed before it could even start.
A real lack of patience in the heart, and that headache turned into
heartache.
Sure, if I’d asked more of them out, we might have dated – but I
was so out of touch with myself that I felt so outdated. They could
have been less shy, but I was more convinced I wasn’t much of an
impressive guy. Expressive, _yes_ – more direct in invitation, but
never showing up to the party in the end. It isn’t easy for most,
but I felt like I had the most to lose – __a heart__.
Now I see: I was chasing love as a boy, not building it as a man.
And the truth? It lands heavier when you start by being truthful
with yourself –that’s the only way to fully understand.
Aug 9, 2025
Aug 9, 2025 at 4:47 PM UTC
I would like to see you again.
To stare at you for a moment.
To test if this is something I can undo.
Because, darling, I don’t know what you did, but I swear—
I’d give you my heart if you asked.
I’d let you explore even the deepest parts of me,
as long as it’s you.
But if fate is unkind,
then I’d still be glad just to breathe the same air as you,
to walk the same ground,
to see you from afar.
Oh, what have you done to me?
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 10:44 AM UTC
Reaching the end is no simple thing,
you need strength of body and a soul ready to give it all.
It’s not about dark feelings of the mind,
nor the friendly souls supporting you or not.
It falls on you to be prepared for everything.
It doesn’t have to be a lonesome road, though.
You find all kinds of people in your life
just follow the hum, the silent thread that connects
this world with the realm of bravery and grit,
and embrace the melody of reconciliation.
I’ve fought those shadows long enough.
It’s time to poise myself and fight back.
Be it the dark sickness or an ailment of the mind,
I will triumph over this and renew my world
for my soul is tempered, my body unshaken.
I rise anew, my world reborn.
Mar 13, 2025
Mar 13, 2025 at 8:56 AM UTC
Everyone I’ve ever loved
Is somewhere in my heart locked away
Parts of them scattered and mixed with my blood
Running through every part of by body
To my brain
Reflections of their persona escape as i speak
I’m everyone I’ve ever loved , that is me
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 4:56 PM UTC
I cheered for the President
and raised my hat to the great man,
he promised prosperity
for all his supporters,
then he started a war,
when the rockets came
they did not know the difference
between me and my neighbour
Feb 1, 2025
Feb 1, 2025 at 5:26 AM UTC
A walk
to ponder the nature of it all
sea and sky,
the tumbling waves which fall
gulls that call on outstretched wings
none of these are separate things
Jan 31, 2025
Jan 31, 2025 at 11:23 AM UTC
Conspire to inspire,
Inspire to admire,
Admire to aspire,
Aspire to set fire
To your demons
That conspire.
Jan 30, 2025
Jan 30, 2025 at 1:50 PM UTC
Ironic, isn’t it,
To be seen by so many,
Eyes upon your every move,
A window to the world,
Yet a door locked shut.
A false sense of connection,
More friends than ever before,
Likes that flood your screen,
But how many really know
The you behind the mask?
Fingers swipe, messages blur,
An endless stream of faces,
Yet in the quiet moments,
Who remains?
Who hears the whispers of your soul?
So hold to hope, and trust the few,
Who see the world beyond the view,
For in their hearts, you’ll find a place,
Of genuine warmth, a true embrace.
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 7:44 AM UTC
LOST:
A dream about a staircase with no top step.
Last seen circling my brain at 3:14 a.m.,
with no place to land.
Reward: One uninterrupted night of sleep.
Contact: [email protected]
FREE TO GOOD HOME:
A laugh that doesn’t fit anymore—
sharp, too loud,
like it belongs to someone braver.
Please take it before it cuts me deeper.
Contact: [email protected]
MISSING CONNECTION:
You—on the other side of the street,
waving like it was still 2015.
Me—too slow to cross,
too afraid to shout.
If spotted, please circle back.
Contact: my number’s the same, but maybe you deleted it.
FOUND:
A treasure map to nowhere, folded into my coat lining.
No roads, just dotted lines,
and an X I’m scared to dig up.
No need to claim; it’s already mine.
Contact: (don’t.)
MISSING CONNECTION:
You—wearing a yellow raincoat,
laughing like the storm was yours to own.
Me—stuck in a doorway,
too afraid to step into puddles.
If you see this, let me borrow your courage.
Contact: [email protected]
FOR SALE OR TRADE:
A reflection that doesn’t belong to me.
It moves slower, smiles at things
I haven’t thought of yet.
Will trade for a mug that doesn’t drip.
Contact: [email protected]
LOST:
The way my name sounded when you said it,
soft and certain,
like it was the only taste there was.
Reward: The strength to stop listening for it.
Contact: [email protected]
FOR SALE:
One fractured moment in time.
It split clean down the middle—
half yours, half mine—
and hums like static when held.
Warning: Reassembly not guaranteed.
Contact: [email protected]
LOST:
The ability to distinguish between a memory and a dream.
Last felt in a room full of books and musty yellow light.
Reward: A map with all dead ends marked in gold.
Contact: [email protected]
MISSING CONNECTION:
You—crossing the street as if it didn’t exist,
leaving footprints in the air.
Me—watching from behind a pane of glass that wasn’t real,
wishing I could step through.
If you see this, tell me if the other side is softer.
Contact: [email protected]
FREE TO GOOD HOME:
A mirror that only reflects your mistakes.
It’s cracked but still works.
Perfect for someone braver than me.
Contact: [email protected]
FREE TO GOOD HOME:
A scream swallowed too quickly,
leaving the weight of what it couldn’t say.
It hums at night, sharp enough to cut silence,
soft enough to still feel human.
Contact: [email protected]
FOUND:
A version of me I didn’t know still existed.
She’s smaller, softer,
but hums with the ache of wanting something bigger.
No one’s claimed her,
but she feels too familiar to let go.
Contact: [email protected]
FOR SALE:
A jar of lightning,
trapped mid-flash, flickering faintly.
Warning: It won’t light your way, but it might set you on fire.
Contact: [email protected]
MISSING CONNECTION:
You—standing in a crowd of people who looked like you.
Me—shouting a name I wasn’t sure was yours.
If you see this, tell me which one of us got it wrong.
Contact: [email protected]
FREE TO GOOD HOME:
A shadow that moves faster than I do.
It drags me to places I swore I wouldn’t revisit.
It’s loyal,
but it doesn’t listen.
Contact: [email protected]
MISSING CONNECTION:
You—just out of reach,
your voice fading like a star going nova.
Me—chasing echoes through rooms I don’t recognize.
If you see this, tell me how it ends.
Contact: [email protected]
WANTED:
A gas station map that folds wrong.
Not one that shows the way,
but one that erases it completely,
leaving only the thrill of getting lost.
Payment: Breadcrumbs I don’t plan to follow.
Contact: [email protected]
MISSING CONNECTION:
You—at a bus stop,
Me—watching you disappear before I could prove myself.
If you’re still waiting,
I swear I’ll catch the next bus.
Reward: a Metrocard, but refilling it costs more than it’s worth.
Contact: [email protected]
FOUND:
A photograph that doesn’t make sense—
faces blurred, the room stitched from dreams:
a log cabin leaning into splinters,
a Vietnamese superstore where shampoo and morning glory
share aisles with áo dài and gnocchi,
my first-grade classroom—pine-needle air,
metal chairs sparking against old carpet.
The photo shifts,
but the context stays the same.
Contact: [email protected]
FREE TO GOOD HOME:
A moment of clarity that burns too bright to keep.
It sees everything,
even what you wish it wouldn’t.
Take it before it blinds me.
Contact: [email protected]
FOR SALE OR TRADE:
A clock with teeth.
It eats seconds like they’re starving it,
but spits them out just wrong enough to notice.
Will trade for a moment that doesn’t bite back.
Contact: [email protected]
WANTED:
Someone to tell me if it’s too late.
If the road I’ve walked is the only one I get,
or if there’s still time to take a left,
a right,
or turn around entirely.
No qualifications necessary—just say something.
Reward: My charge to pay attention; ***** coins and all.
Find Me: I'll be wearing a yellow rain coat.
Contact: [email protected]
Dec 12, 2024
Dec 12, 2024 at 3:10 AM UTC
a window of time:
wind sneaks in from behind like -
her breath on his neck.
Dec 9, 2024
Dec 9, 2024 at 8:03 AM UTC