days used to fly by
and maybe it terrified me
maybe because he terrified me
so it was better to look for the next thing.
but
days now crawl slowly
and it makes me groan
maybe because the next thing wasn’t there
and I was left to wonder why.

Here I sit
To write
and while the clouds move
The clock chimes
And I sit here
Still trying to write of you

Over margaritas
And FaceTime calls
She suddenly stopped
and said to me
he really is your ‘great love’
isn’t he?

to someone

my worst will be their best, and my best will be their 'meh'

it just means that a few of those someone's

were not meant for me

these so called strings
these chains on me
cannot contain
the person I'd be

the chains he wrought
are not yours to carry
these chains on me

Will have me buried

it’s almost like the sea
knew
that I couldn’t tell
or even recall
the day you met me
was the same day
that all those dreams
were swept
to sea

She told me he bought her silver jewelry for her birthday
and I felt like crying
because he didn’t ask her best friend
her sister
or her taste
and she had to sit through with smiles
simply excited for silver jewelry
while she wears gold.

But it wasn’t just jewelry, or cars, flowers, or jokes.
It wasn’t that hats, the stove, or the door.

she told me he bought her silver jewelry
so I sat there
realizing
that hadn’t happened to her before.

to wake up
in agony because i was dreaming of you
and it didn't last longer
to smack into a pole
because their laugh sounded like yours
or on days like today
when pillows
feel like interlopers
where even in the shower
tears won't grace us with their presence
and
I can't even drink my scotch
because it reminds me of you

I want to touch you
like it was that first night
I want to hear your laugh
amongst the blurry images
I want to say it's totally okay
cause what does the future matter anyway?
but mostly
I want to pretend like you're not a fish
and I a bird
just waiting for the other to give out

It is in these moments
Where I go reaching through the blundering moonlight  
That my soul shatters
Letting my mind rage
As it meets fistfuls of pillows
And shudders of stale air

When I can tell you are not there
And will not be before the sun rises
And my hear beat quiets

So I find fingers
Still reaching through sun drenched daylight

i don't know when
or why
but it changed

and it was in that heartbeat, in it's echoed refrain
i realized i would never feel like that again
about him.

and that was okay.

because the feel of my jeans grazing across his palms become better with repetition.
because the feel of his smile whisked my favourite lemon loaf into creation, filling itself with peace in this familiarity.
because the feel of his arms were not that of steel, but hearths; warming the depths of my being I did not know had gotten cold.

it would feel better

and that was okay.

I heard a little goose
in the starry sky
lost on his lonesome
not ashamed to cry.
He made me pause
as I had never heard such loneliness
echoing into the black expanse. his pleas,
I could feel his yearnings
the tickle in his throat
as he screamed to be heard
like that tree who fell.

I heard a little goose.
all by his lonesome
I couldn't help but notice, not a whisper of another
just his wings a flutter,
calling for another.

I heard a little goose,
I hope I am heard too.

i no longer believe it is brave

to sit in blood soaked misery

just so i may go out standing

instead of reaching out a hand

and asking for help

to live

in the pitter patter of the morning
I can hear my happiness
does that make sense?

the harmony starts as I hear it in the echoes of his breath
ostinato, full and lazy like a cresting wave
and in the whispers of the day
I lay awake, hearing the legatos
knowing at some point I must rejoin the world

but for now
I listen
as crescendos of happiness crest over me
and his hands staccato for me
and as his kisses draw to cadence
he whispers 'good morning'
a symphony just for me

it was simply
silent
Something never before touched
hearing the pitter without echoes on your skin
but not deafening
without millions of howls
not crippling
without thousands of demands
it was simply
walks along the sand with nothing to hear
but his heartbeat
and my own
except I was doing laundry
and the waves were simply constructed

I would say ecstasy but that’s the wrong prescription

it’s breathtaking
how love changes
growing and morphing and blossoming as we grow and morph ourselves
love goes from mums cooking to dads cocktails to friends hugs to lovers embraces
until it morphs
into 1:48am phone calls about which car soap because he always did it and I couldn’t find it anyway
and you realize soap was what mattered
Love changes
And it’s breathtaking

the knight
stands at the ready
Helmet down
sword up

ready to give it his all for those behind him

the white flag long gone
soaked with blood

back leg — staggering
roses dying by the side

and he stays there

never moving

the knight stands at the ready
never breaking

even when it’s only himself to save.

Some to appreciate beauty must see the best of the best
the immeasurable
the greatest heights
The treasure of all men
something to covet and keep hidden

And some
my dearest
can glimpse perfection
in raindrops
and dandelions
or his smile as the dawn breaks

Friends after work
Sipping Bellini cocktails
swapping the drinks and tales
Some are better than others
As glasses sit empty

A man of many talents
walked through my door
God I hope he walks through once more

she sways to the beat of the drum
picking up speed
Feeling the spice and the ***

You wake up and realize with ache on your tongue
it was a night to remember
she could’ve been the one

the acknowledgement of needing more
has a cavern
with depth like grief
and vastness like fear
and stepping outside the door of lacklustre
is terrifying
but the peace of more reaches further than the deep and vast cavern could ever stretch to

amongst the leaves
and the whispers across the sea
in the shadows
and trailing through the trees
it was in the moonlight
the shimmer of the dawn

the echoes of your pulse
splattering dirt through the lawn
kettles screaming for release
murmuring kisses into skin

oh darling
let me hold you
forever and a day.

god I felt like an idiot
sitting looking at the different strands of carpet
her hair brushed back behind her ear
when she waited
to hear me ask
“did we even have anything in common?”
she shrugged

“your curiousity”

I laughed, rolling my eyes.

“and your need to be loved”

and god I felt like an idiot

“oh it’s touch and go, you know”

now I understand why I hated tag.

Some days a little bit of liquor
and a bonfire with heat
makes a night to remember
and really good sleep

it’s funny
how every once and a while
it will
creep
back into your periphery
like a shadow you forgot existed
Because the light was so bright it couldn’t be seen
but every now and then
when it’s time to lay my head down
it creeps
back into the sheets
into the wind
as you turn
restless
waiting for the sun to come up
so that it sneaks and
creeps away

someone told me it was fate
that your name was the echo to
my tangled daisy chain dreams
so I laughed
nodding along like your name wasn’t seared into my every atom
every fixture, ligament, lung
nodding along like the second I saw your face
Every other flower became obsolete
no longer wanting roses
But daisy chain dreams

I thought you were engaged
she told me

I laughed, no not really.

wow have you not talked since?

I laughed, no not really.

how are you doing?

I laughed.

no not really.

I didn’t realize how much I changed who I was

until my head hit my pillow and the clock kept moving
while I stayed still
or a metaphorical semblance of it anyways

trying to sleep like I hadn’t trained myself
like a dog with a bone
to text you goodnight, or call when you got off

I wasn’t aware how much you soaked into the fibre of my being. Which is why before midnight is so ******* hard.

because all I want to do

is ask how your day was. like a dog with a bone, trying not to beg for more

The ease in your morning breaths was everything to me
Because for once
I was no longer focused on the evening schedule or the afternoon chores
I was focused on the sounds
I was focused on my cold toes anchored against your calf
I was focused on the taste of last night lingering in the air

The ease in your arms was everything to me
Because for once
I was no longer focused on anything but now

In the darkness
I sat
Waiting.

I sat waiting for me
till I stopped waiting
And upon reaching up
Through the cracks in the walls
Heaving
I push through
And In the light
I stood there

Finding
Me
Waiting.

The flame licks at my toes
Prancing
Daring me to come closer
If only for a taste

Just like you
When your eyebrow raises
Where no words are spoken
But a conversation continues

And as fingertips graze
Grins become growls
And giggles turn to groans

Where gasps become grabs
And grabs become tugs

Where I love you’s are I want you’s
And I need you’s are demands

No longer are eyebrows raised
No words remain spoken

Just fire and flames
Daring us to come closer
As we taste some more

we lost you
and part of me still doesn’t know that
but when I cried
speaking to him about how nothing will be the same and you’ll never get to hold little laughter and wipe little tears away
clinging to birthdays and little voices
he told me
that my hands
are extensions of you
so you will hold it all
the packages, the smiles, the screams, and the giggles.

and it made me smile—

thinking of the day you get to hold my Theo, with me.

he got me flowers

just because. or maybe not just because, but because I asked him to.

but he got me the ones I actually liked. and paid attention to the way I smiled.

he got me flowers. and I know he wouldn’t hesitate to set up a reminder,

to get me more

Please tell me why the scotch
Swirling around the glass
Stokes the fires in my soul
As it swirls playfully along my tongue
To incite the words brushing against the smoke as it leaves my breath

Till the glass is empty
and fires go cold

I wanted to say something poetic.
to capture the sheer depth of emotion brought forth by that goose
I wanted to evoke the pleading in his first note
to hear the panic in the second
I wanted to let you feel the hope
to push towards the potential of having a reply
I wanted to tell you his lonliness
to hear his cry.

home
Sprinting of feet
Dances in place
Food placed to meet
The needs of those
Both near and far
home

House
Decorated
Exact
Collected
House

but safe
Safe is home of people
With a hearth
With heart
With laughter
And with love
but safe
is what I love the most

something I’ve learnt

and maybe grieved along the way

is striving to be something

is so very different

from wanting to want to be something

that requires you to love

and god just to try

more than you fear

and I watched you close that door

over

and over

before I decided to finally walk away

why must we chose
to pick up the shield
of weighted fear and cemented caution
caged in what if laced around comfort
or
to wield the open palm
where everything could land
and rest in a cozy embrace
or be brushed away
with nothing but a whisper

I’m stuck

Between hating the love stories where they didn’t fit but “love overcame it anyways”

because why did we play with the pieces that couldn’t fit together and pretend it didn’t matter

avoiding conversations like they were distant future things, intangible, and uncondensable

and as I sit here, rooting through the leftovers of my processing
I know my grief simply overshadows the joy for a moment
Holding space for the lost piece of me, I am happy, and honoured you get to hold.

but grieving her nonetheless.

So I’m stuck

pretending like I won’t always, on some level, be trying to put the pieces together

cause  “love overcame it anyways”

I scrubbed or at least tried to
every layer of skin he touched or weirdly rubbed
scrapping my lips into the colour they used to be when you kissed me
and I sat in the bathtub
having scrapped my tongue to a lovely red
knowing it wouldn’t have happened if I was with you
but I’m not yours anymore, am i?

I wish I hadn't wasted
the moments I ached for his hands around me
or the tickle of laughter
clawing at my throat
oh what I would have done
if his fingers
weren't riddled with ink
stamping my skin
till it was trademarked
and no longer mine

in moments like this, i wonder
should i say thank you?
or scowl at my own tongue
because why must you be 'thanked'

for finding the beauty in the way a masterpiece i did not create became encased and enclosed around me? a heartbreaking masterpiece my soul hides behind.

but darling, really.

must i thank you?

dare I thank you for noticing

the way my hips flow like new streams
making their own path to once again embrace. finding themselves through pure instinct.

should i say thank you?

for seeing the same desire in me that Venus possessed in the arms of passion, the same ones lost to history we so seek to be held by?

or may i say thank you.

thank you for guiding me up the stairs that never end, winding along as I am, so that I may be, all that I am. Thank you for blindly reaching into the dark and choosing to love all that you touch...

even Eros would have loved you.

As your willful blindness and seeking touch brought me to the final step, so that I may say

thank you.

it is in the lull
where the littlest of toes
starts to inch away
as if it will finally meet its partner
that does not reside
on this side of the mattress
or really this mattress itself

for it is the silence that await the musical score
that always starts with how you breathe while slumbering
and the pillows themselves
seem to ache
etched in stone like medusa herself
petrified their forms as if you laid against them
edging her on

maybe it is the silence
that is petrified
you will not return
it simply misses its partnered limbs
and evening symphonies

I want to watch you love
not me
I want to see the day where you take out the trash  
the day where you start humming again
I want to see the day again where you tell them 'no'
and you sit in with something cold
my darling
I want to see the day where you are soaked in sweat, but grinning ear to ear
the day where you stay out till midnight, but come home happy knowing the steps to get there
my dear
I yearn for the day when you grasp that rusty watering can
and fill it up
eagerly awaiting the skips and jumps left
for the seeds to be watered
and for you to flower

as kingdoms have been erected
and as empires have crumbled
not once
did proposals
such declarations from the heart
become more important
than the quiet pleas
of the soul
cradling itself
within the etches of time and callused palms
waiting permission
asking
if they may give themselves to the other
in the only form it knows

I miss the way your chest rose against my fingertips
Like an ocean beating across the shore.

The tide doesn’t come in, no more

You make me feel
Like the bottom of a wave
The richest of colours
The deepest of greens

you seek me out with careless abandon
or simply the determination of a knight
Unafraid to back down

from the little woman
Peeking around the willows
Dripping in her lake

You pause with awe and wonder
like you could see every moment that made this second, to get here, worth it


As a little grin traces my face
and I pull you in
and you sink
as I drag you under
blissfully
unaware

the way he held her
without worry
without concern
made her soul ache

how had his knuckles
fingertips
and calluses

could hold everything that had been breaking
slipping through her grasp

like the shadows could see that his knuckles
were warning enough