he doesn't say good morning at the crack of dawn
barely even manages to look me in the eye
and when I pass, he doesn't look up with bedazzled eyes
and although words fail him and days stretch where he is absent and I am a wreck
there are moments where I am convinced
that he is the moon
and I was always meant be his star
far enough not to be a nuisance
but close enough to admire all the ways he is
my last bit of hope
is strung around his neck
and i fear if the world ends tomorrow
he'd leave me on the deck

what becomes of us when the sounds of wailing fade ever so slightly into the back of the picture frame
we no longer remember days by infectious
laughter or shy smiles
these are the days
death tolls become us
flesh becomes a number
lulled into obedience
humming rhythmically
fear plagues our moments of sobriety
and then some
and here we stand
hollow
and afraid
and what else?

it's widely accepted that one gains visibility in exchange for their earthly flesh
and often I wonder
am I ready for that trade

one mistake and falling goes the unabashedly tender, naively claimed the empresses land home, forgetful perhaps of what lengths it must go to earn its keep
With one slip of the tongue, knives were drawn
affection squashed
All traces of tenderness lost in a once softened gaze
(so fully, one swears it must not be the same eyes)
hardens, exposing a once tentatively stitched creature to the world's capacity for cruelty
To loneliness so great, to the knowledge that all one has, truly
When all niceties are stripped
(Or have fallen.. due to an irrational presumption of one’s right to practice autonomy)
Is one’s self
there is great disappointment that lies in arriving at the bottom of the barrel only to see a puddle
Or rather, droplets barely conjoined
mirroring eyes engulfed in terror
darting back and to,
the only soul, hell-bent on your survival
Is your own

my heart asks about you, what am i to tell her?

what words ring in my ear when its half past midnight
between the lands of the torn apart and the torn open
realize the shallow pond I've been drowned in looks a little like where we first exchanged our crooked letters
do you feel an inkling peaking at you through the window pane
did it tell you to run
did it speak to the smallest voice in your chest
will you run?

you stand at the doorway of my heart
far enough for me to long for you
close enough to make my crying unjustifiable
and you knew what you were doing
everything was just so
you were not mine
but I was yours

when we come into being
we are given very few Instructions
we are given a name, a faith a blade
but never told how it is we need to fend for our souls
to the eternal quest of finding a surface 
that reflects you faithfully 
that echoes the truths of our state
is all there is to being, to prove that we do?
is it with the hope that we might make another's existence that much more tolerable? 
is life supposed to be tolerated?
is there power in escape? 
to take your pen
write the words you've found in your soul
share your precious gilded letters 
with the world
and hope they kind find solace
in like-minded blood-soaked letters
perhaps I will serve as a cautionary tale
and perhaps that is enough
perhaps wanting more than what is offered
is a sin in and of itself? 
but perhaps the world would not have come into being without the sinners
those who dare to ask for more
to take

an abundance of truths became clear to me after we met
that the voices in my hands are extensions of myself and not to be silenced
to silence them is to silence my truest self

I am the motions and you the stops
you are to me what life is to mars
there are ladders to climb
and your heart is up there
I'll climb every step
and conquer the void
will that be enough?

and thats just how this goes
I lay awake thinking of words that might contain all that you are
and you're deep in slumber
and my heart aches for yours
and your heart aches for another
but I suppose
the world will still turn tomorrow
and I'll love you then
just as I do now

graciously
you allow me to stay
I thank the walls, the halls and corridors
for sheltering my most beloved
what thanks do I have to offer
to repay such great a debt
do I kiss the feather?
do I hug tiles that have hugged your figure many, many nights?
it smells of you
but feels nothing like you
why won't you hold me back?
must I take the shape of tiles?
then tiles I will be

I need to make sure I am nothing less than the person you think me to be
for your love is the greatest part of me

i wish i could have given you fully what you partially bestowed upon me

the moment you wake up from a beautiful dream and try desperately to feel back asleep feels a lot like when you leave me

its strange
you see
I carry him everywhere I go
my tears all belong to him
and my joy is only complete with him
his wide eyes, I long for them eternally  
and I wish I could give him my own
then he would love himself fully
as I do

i must remind myself
that people don't own places
no matter how much they feel like home
and that piece of grass
that feels like my mothers embrace
is just a mirror
i've buried my hope inside a vault
said a prayer
closed my eyes and said goodbye
shushing grasshoppers along the way
all that can be heared are my muffled sobs
and the echos of halfhearted steps
dragging metal across green damp strands of the earths scalp
i reassure myself that this is the way it has to be
the pungent smell of death and decay
the earth engulfs all our sorrows
embraces our dead
harbors our wars
and we too will pass
another disease the earth must rid itself from
and all that will be left
is a few bones clattering together for warmth
and a woman
whose gaze
follows you wherever you go

years apart and here we are
breaking jigsaw pieces
in time they'll fit, the sun will burn its ridges, then the rain, timidly at first
puts out the flames and all at once
it pours
just as I have done
break apart and put yourself together all you want
this puzzle is missing
no peace

when day breaks and brazen stands the sun
as if to say, it is day, the storm has passed
once more
you lay in a pool of soft sand, a whisper of what once was
fists clenching and unclenching
silence so deafening you ache
it feels so unpleasant, this ease
comfort was not meant for you, where do you even place yourself in a scene meant for someone else?
you make suffering your home
the cold tiles a cornerstone
but the suffering has ended in spite of you
of all your pleas to stay in a race for survival
trotting on battered rubble-bound roads
and despite it all
you are safe and free
the sun lapses in providing warmth
but never stills
and neither have you
before now

and yet
happiness does not creep in, nor does it knock
nor barges or in wanders
you are left empty in a filled space
almost to the point of combustion
and this is how you shall stay
shivering, the rays hurling themselves at any surface besides you
fruitless, the suffering meant so very little besides all that you knew
empty, just as the space next to you

neither here nor there
over seas of despair
woe is me
friend of the sea
lord of mistakes
governor of ache
well versed in pain
oh the nights that have crawled by
you, the moon and the lake of sorrow on my mind
its as if the moon, dropped her marble tears
in my palms
an offering of peace
its true that I, the poets first true love
illuminated the sky longer than mans time
even this earth has no knowledge of the lengths you've gone to
but I do
I've watched you bloom and wither
forgive me for not standing still
when you split in two
for I have worlds to be
and theres more for you

and I would look and look, for poems that might begin to etch away at my armor, exposing me to your loving gaze
but so little was found, I take it upon myself
to write you a poem
of yearning in its simplest form
for a love so present in every moment I hesitate to be anything but yours

I have come to the conclusion that we were never meant to be
that is not a product of our circumstances
rather, our dispositions
and how you falter
and I do not
and when faced with adversity, our tactics differ
you the setting sun
trailing behind you washes of color
a soft whisper of a reminder
that you passed through
you liked it that way
how amusing is it then that I am enamoured with you and the setting sun equally
some days the sun is better to me
and those days I resent you
I am ill equipped
and you are well versed in all the ways lovers dance
I am an arrow to a target  
you question the need for arrows
my setting sun
I will love you till you set no more
till the arrow makes more sense to you
till you try to shoot yours, perhaps
I am all together too aware of the fact
that you are surrounded by targets
and I am not one
and all written words do is attempt to bring me closer to you
to understanding what we've created of ourselves
I shall try to stop hurling my arrow at the splendid sun once it stops kissing my skin

you're going to miss me as the suns rays hit the corners of your bed
you're going to miss me when words aren't enough and silence weighs heavy
you're going to miss me when you're so sick of missing me
you're going to miss me when its the last day and the earth has swallowed the sun
and beyond that
you'll miss me

The warmest haze
in wanting you I am set ablaze anew
you wreak havoc on all my delicate parts
the thud of a heart prone to unease
softly mellows as our eyes meet
I lose an ounce of myself
but oh the gain, oh the wells and rivers of bliss
oh the mountains of unadulterated joy
sparking through my chest
its always been, always has been
yours