There is a fair bit of you in every garden of my life.
Truly, that is nothing extraordinary, you should know it as objectively as I do.

Nevertheless, there is something I’d like to clarify:

When I say "in every garden”,
it is not only in relation to this of now,
this of waiting for you, of hoorah! i found you!, and ******! i lost you!,
and found again, and hopefully stops there.

Nor in regard of you suddenly telling me "I’m going to cry”,
then with a discrete lump in my throat "well go ahead”.
And then a graceful invisible rainfall arrives to assist us,
perhaps the reason the sun rises unhesitatingly right after.

I’m not just referring either
at the day-to-day fluctuation of the stock in our little decisive complicities,
or that I could or believe I can turn my deficiencies to victories,
or of you to bestow upon me the tenderest gift of your most recent despair.

No.
The situation is more serious.
When I state “in every garden” I mean to say that in addition to that sweet cataclysm,
you are also rewriting my childhood,
that age when one utters "grown up” and solemn phrases,
and the solemn grown ups celebrates them,
and conversely, you think of it irrelevant.

What I mean to say is,
you are reassembling my adolescence,
that time when I was an old man full of insecurities,
and contrarily, you know how to extract from there,
my germ of joy and consciously spread it.

What I mean to say is,
you are stirring my youth,
that vain vessel no one took hold of, that proud shade no one got close to,
and you on the other hand knows very well how to shake it
until the autumn leaves start falling
till there is nothing but the flesh of my triumphless truth.

What I mean to say is,
you are grasping my maturity,
that mixture of stupor and experience,
this unknown horizon of fear and certainty,
this relentless faith on my questionable strength.

As you can see, it is serious,
extremely more serious.
Because with these or different words,
I mean to say you are not only,
the dearest girl you are,
but also the splendid and cautious* women that I love and have loved.

Because thanks to you E, I have understood,
(you’d say it was about time, and with reason),
that love, is a beautiful and generous bay, that lightens and darkens as life goes by,
a bay where ships arrive and break away,
they arrive with blossoms and presages,
and they part with krakens and storm clouds.
A beautiful and generous bay where ships set down and then leave,

But E, you, please don’t leave.

He said "I'm sorry," for the third time that night.

I said through broken sobs, hands rested on a tear soaked pillow, "There is no need to apologize friend, you did nothing wrong, we're fine."

He had been typing for a while before he said, "I just kinda owe it to her, ya know?" I decided to not make a tally of all the promises he has made me, and instead I said, "Yeah, totally. You've gotten better at taking responsibility."

I decided not to focus on the night before, when we held hands crying out pained words, emotionally charged from the whole concert, but the focus was still on our sweaty hands gripping each other tighter with every word that reminded us of each other. I decided to not remember him wrapping his arms around me, pulling me tighter, tighter, because we just could not seem to get close enough to one another. I chose to ignore how I could still feel his hands gripping my shoulders. I decided to neglect all the memories that were always too good to be.

Next thing I know, we're on the phone, I needed to hear your voice, I needed to remember I wasn't all alone. He said, "I hate this, I thought making a decision would make things easier, but it didn't, it just hurt you, that's literally all it did." Suddenly I switched gears, I turned off the tears, and reassured him that this was pain I could handle, dear. Just try to relax, it'll all be in the past soon, just go outside and look at the full moon, remember we will survive this too. He said, "I still have feelings for you ya know. I just made this decision because I owe it to her, that's the only reason. And we might be together one day, who knows."

"Yeah, I know," I said trying not to cry, but that hurt worst of it all. Holding onto hope I should've already let go of. Holding onto rope wrapped around my neck, waiting for that day. I felt comforted but pained. I felt sad, and just plain tired of feeling. I fell asleep that night holding a phone to my face, listening to his breathing.

my emotions are a seesaw
why don't you have a seat
take a ride with me
as we prepare for our final sleep
my head is spinning
like a top that just set alight
will you be my firefighter
and extinguish me every night
remind me I'll be fine

these feelings are unholy
question the essence that makes me more than boring
restless and unsatisfied, totally mystified
i am scared to die, but aren't I supposed to face my fears?
I can't make eye contact anymore
do you think death would accept my prayer?

you are the one thing I can't leave behind
so I'll hold your hand while you hold mine
why am I still so petrified?
is the lack there of a myth made up by the great divine?
who will answer these questions of mine?
I've been in line this whole **** time
well guys, I've got quite the mountain to climb
I should really get going before its my time

I'm drunk!!!!
I can hardly walk straight
I'm glad I don't need to talk
Because I hate slurring my words

they're too important
To be mumbled
And misunderstood

I'm drunk
And I love it
I hate it

Still I don't want to talk
But I cannot help but write
It is the spirit within me
That screams I need to be heard

And when I'm drunk
I understand
The spirit knows more than I do
It knows why I feel so much hope when the moon is new

And such loss
When the moon is full

I'm drunk
But I'm a conduit to other realms
And only by spreading this message around
Can you hear it

I'm drunk
(Hahaahaahahahaahahahaha)
But I still hope
What inspires me
Will inspire you

i feel like i owe you a love letter
(or at least an apology):
my love
letters have always been born
of spark, burning bits of bark
or grass, ash -- elements consumed by morning
fed to wind
departed

i do not love
you flash and fade
surge then break

you are underneath all the soil
you are warm and solid and everything
we move together everywhere, slow
but always together moving:
until the heart goes ice we are
together moving, and even in silence
in darkness we will be together
unmoving

i do not love you thunder
i love you stream:
sometimes roar but often murmur
heard but hidden somewhere among the oaks and maples
not tucson wash that flows twice a year
but new york stream that ices over,
floods springtime, bows deep into late summer,
always cuts
steady etch deeper every day until we are
grand canyon love,
see it from space love,
lasts like mountains love

i wish
i could write
these words
smaller,
origami them
through your pores
dissolve them into
your blood

feels
too true
to be
louder
than whisper

I woke up and your face was an inch away from mine
I pulled up your covers to make sure you were warm
And nudged your face over a couple of inches
I was content
Which is such a rare and treasured sensation
Almost as rare and treasured as you
At that moment you broke me out of my fantasy
You in your sleep kicked me in the knee
I kicked you right back
Because you're my bestfriend
And I'll always return the favor
Last night we were lying in the middle of the street in my neighborhood
Pointing to stars and making up their life story
Describing how they lived and how they died
Our limbs were entwined
We were warm despite the cold breeze
With every headlight that passed us
Every lingering stare
We laughed absurdly
Wondering what they must have thought
About two kids lying in the middle of the street
Legs tangled, at two in the morning

And yet you still wonder
Why everyone thinks we are dating