we won't admit it
but we are both stuck
in this substitution of happiness
that we are too scared to let go
because at least we are stuck together

Why come now?
When the show is over?
When the curtains are closed?

My love, it’s too late.
I don’t feel anything for you anymore
In fact
I don’t feel anymore

where shall I send my poems?**

to my eyelashes,
for they beat irregularly
unconcealed and unconscious
like my poems

to my fingertips,
where they are released fluidly
they grasp, strained and staining, tapping breaths
like my poems

to my smile,
fleeting and happy weeping fortuitously
a lifetime of a whisper, glimpsed and gone
like my poems

to my brain,
where they are symmetrically born only to die ceremonially
a fireworks duration evaporating into a rich velvet
like my poems

like my poems,
none will survive me,
blemishes, pockmarks, beauty marks, residues,
in a flash bang born, in a flash bang consumed

3:08am dec. 9 2019

is it worth it?

worth the ache in your chest,
worth the pain and the tears?

is it worth the sleepless nights,
and the shine from your eyes?

is it worth the weight on your soul?
is it worth giving your all?

is it worth your peace?