That feeling
Like you wrapped your cold hands around
My heart
Squeezing the warmth and love out of it
Until it was empty.
But I never minded,
As my heart loved the feel of your hands
And needed to be cooled down every once in a while
Because every time I looked at you
It warmed up again.

The memory that dominated my time at the time
to take out my iPhone 6 and shoot an image
of whoever whatever wherever.
I sit at my computer and I look at all the pictures
and why we can’t have these moments again.
What did I do?
Was I mean?
Can we have it again?
Why not?
If you saw me crying this very moment as I type
these words on the same laptop I keep the photographs saved,
would you want to be saved as well to be a part of my life?
I will never try and make you stay,
I won’t beg,
but I continue to cry, for this is the power of a photograph.
Never thought I would want to belong so bad.
At least in a photo with us standing together and our
arms around each other,
I had it once,
and I know I’ll have it again.
Even if it isn’t you,
someone can help me.
You’ll be making new memories,
and I’ll be alone making a
collage of the photos I saved.
(Click)
This is me now,
alone.

the house next door makes me
sad.
both man and wife rise early and
go to work.
they arrive home in early evening.
they have a young boy and a girl.
by 9 p.m. all the lights in the house
are out.
the next morning both man and
wife rise early again and go to
work.
they return in early evening.
By 9 p.m. all the lights are
out.

the house next door makes me
sad.
the people are nice people, I
like them.

but I feel them drowning.
and I can't save them.

they are surviving.
they are not
homeless.

but the price is
terrible.

sometimes during the day
I will look at the house
and the house will look at
me
and the house will
weep, yes, it does, I
feel it.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

When it rained,
I tried looking for rainbows
But the skies were filled with dark clouds

When the darkness came,
I tried looking for stars
But everywhere was pitch black

Now that I am lost,
I want to look for you
But I know you too are adrift
In your own dream
Trying to figure out
Where those butterflies are

And if they wanted you to see them

You know, I always do try to look for your flaws;
     it might save me from falling.



But the more I try to see in your faults,
     the more I try to get disappointed with your cracks,
          is the more I'm starting to get lost in your void.



I am a spark of light wandering through the darkness of you.

I am a lost star in the middle of your infinite universe.

I have come to know,

These teardrop bottles I've collected
Lying along with my books on these dusty shelves,
Will sit there and constantly remind me
That they've come to drown away the sadness
I have always had in my eyes

And like the rain to the earth,
They've come to mend the cracks in my heart
That had gone dry
When you were still my sun
Who brightened my days;

And, without me even noticing,
Had slowly burned my heart;
With the fake warmth of your love
All the pain each bottle now holds,
Somehow saved me from turning to ashes

One bottle for every night I've cried,
A drop of tear for every beat my heart skipped;
Bottles which kept not only tears and pain,
But the sounds of my voice at night
Whenever I cried your name

These teardrop bottles still call your name...