i wish to touch the bits of you that endure my dirt.
i wish
more than ever the shape of your face in the curve of my long and twisted fingers.
there's something about it that make my hands
okay to look at again.
like they may have a found a fitful purpose, caressing the demon mouth
that kisses my angel teeth,
residing underneath
my loved lips
that send trips
to your words.
they encase your bright
eyes
and devour the confidence left in them.
but what i meant
to say was, i see your bright
eyes
showing fight to the fence
that you build so high.
i can see the lies shine
like a light was tied ,
just for me to breach them.
just so i could teach them,
you are one to beat them.
even though its you who seeds them.

emitting the aroma of tainted goodness and its all
okay
because of the eutony of this all.
these words can break my fall.
if i make the call,
and summon the space,
my soul
will come and take the place
of the weak face
i can no longer
sonder,
anymore in the background of your filled up recognitions.

there's
no
space
for
my
sad
face.
there's
no
place
for
my
heart
ache.

sent into solivagance.

this is a dark red redamancy,
one of a curse.
the birth
of our breakage
started at the first
touch of a sacred
unto a scarred soul.
and she cried
finding nothing but an empty black hole,
in return. forever churned
in a lustuous magnetism.
a
love prison.

its something that buries itself
beneath all the logic in my heart,
creeping from underneath my sins.
its some kind of wonder,
beckoning the birth rights
of every death in my future.

[ it's some kind of mutual case of kalopsia. ]

Of all the questions that beg my being,
why do my fingers still only look straight
when they're resting on your rigid face ?

Dear Me,

I got your letter today
Two years late.
I knew it was you from the handwriting
The same barely legible sprawl, half formed letters made in rush
Trying to transcribe your thoughts to page before their gone

You asked a lot question.
I got the impression that you couldn’t find any answers of your own
Sensed the hope as you in turn asked me.
It concerns me how much you yearn
However, I have no solution still.
So sorry for my lack of contribution.
We will have to pass them on again.

If I were you, I’d dismiss that list
That consisted of regrets passed
Yet, you never did forget.
I say let bygones be bygones
Don’t fret over them, making you sweat.
They feel dominating, and absolute
But these are merely antonyms
For what they really are.
Surely you can see pass these phantom pains.
I’ll spare you the apophthegm ‘It gets better’
For you will see yourself

There are some things you cannot save
No matter how hard one tries.
There are some things you shouldn’t save.
You will have to learn when which is which

Hindsight makes all the difference
Might you had it
And not the hindrance of self-pity and lethargy
What happened to yesterday’s energy?
Went into the sprawl and lost it all did we?

Don’t worry, that source hasn’t dried up
Blurry days await you, died I didn’t and neither will you.
Find yourself. Company can help.
You don’t have to be alone.
You always have me
(As narcissistic and cliché as that sounds)

You got to beware of isolation.
Neutrality tends to dull the world
Numbing yourself from the agony
I don’t need to remind you of them
That’s what memory is for.

But do you want to know what I think?
I think the world is great
There is so much possible joy to be found
Love to be shared and happiness to feel.
Books to read, plays to see. Poems to write.
Stay awhile with good friends
And you’ll know what I mean.
Remember our other good friend Edith?
She said La Vie En Rose
There is good in everything,
Forget about half full half empty glasses
Be glad for the glass and what ever is in it.
If You could just wear rose tinted glasses you'll see.
And then look in the mirror and see a clearer image.

What will be will be
And you’re going to be fine
When things get rough and you’ve had enough
Take a break and have a coffee with me.
When you are ready, you can start again.
You won't have all the answers
'Cause you won't need them.
Even then, you’re going to be fine.

Until next time,
Mizpah.

separated by distance
separated by my lack of courage
trying to make my love obvious
yet I cannot stop being so obnoxious

i came across a case like historians
who failed to decipher scripts of old age
i failed to read his mind
who through his actions had put it on display
i failed to read his actions

kept his life locked behind the doors
never letting me in
and knowing
what he was going through
i foolishly
               tagged him
               blamed him
“for ruining our friendship”

the mizpah, the bond that kept us close
broke in an instant
bringing my world to an
“blackout”
my nights turned haunted again
the savior absquatulated me again
my ghosts began to rule over me again
leaving me in a state of despair