The cold seeps through the beggar's hands,
Clinging for warmth, slowly fading.
The sun is far from him right now,
He cannot chase it.

His sun shined away from him;
For he is no use,
For he is not special,
For he is but a dog.

Obligated to stay and be abandoned;
Abruptly and forced to wait,
With no warmth and sunlight.

The man can be replaced but not the sun.

In the echoes of our past, I hear the whispers of pain, etched in the silent space between us. Desperately wanting to be heard, but never speaking.

Conversations, woven with threads of betrayal, pierce through the fabric of our trust, binding us to a truth we both deny.

"It was just a kiss," you said, words dripping with regret, but your lips carried the weight of secrets buried beneath deceit.

Months stretched into years, each moment a battleground, where truth surrendered to silence, and lies built walls around us. You put me up into the air, told me I was safe, then let me fall to my knees and scream.

How could you be so impulsive, reckless with the fragments of my heart, reaching out to her in moments of doubt, while I crumbled beneath the weight of your betrayal?

You saw my pain, felt the tremors of my shattered trust, yet chose the path of deception, leading us further into darkness.

A partnership fractured by deceit, where love withers in the shadow of your unspoken truths, leaving me stranded in a sea of confusion and abandonment.

Still, I hope to blossom like the cherry blossoms outside our window, yearning for the sunlight that passes more dimly than the uncertainty I have of you.

I am tormented by the treachery of knowing the truth and never escaping the past. I cannot bear the burden of your lies, nor should I be the keeper of secrets that poison the life of our love.

I must love myself enough to walk away, to leave behind the wreckage of a future tainted by betrayal, and find solace in the quiet embrace of my own truth.

******* though.

To hear your cries,
Broke me inside.
Wheezing for breath,
As I sit by your side.
My mind,
Hurt me,
But at least we tried.
So weary in fret,
Though we seemed just fine.
But I live in regret,
It should pass in time.
Though I'll never forget,

The you and I.

My heart,
Does not beat with yours.
Our rhythms
Irregular,
And I don't know the cause.
Time has flown,
Yet we haven't grown.
We're open stitches
That can't be sewn.
And now,
We continue our paths alone.

Shall I compare thee to a sunny day?
Our slow, bright morning starts blurring at nine,
Back to those dew-polished grass where we lay,
Your gentle fingers intertwine with mine
But hold on, what do they feel like again?
Were they soft, dry, or calloused, I forgot,
They overrode themselves with muscle pain
And the romance runs thinner than I thought:
I stare at space knowing I can’t be yours,
While you take over the physical me,
The only sense I felt was that of floors,
Blurring the edges of its boundary…

‘Tis too hard, no love weighs more than I recall,
Perhaps I wasn’t meant to write sonnets after all.

through space and time
your thoughts like rockets,
red hot, misguided, overfunded

too busy orchestrating, calibrating, hypothesizing, re-caffeinating
stringing errant thoughts and business plans and lines of code like children's macaroni, haphazard and fervent and

you don't pay attention to anything
not the groceries, the gasoline, the grime
not quiet, murmured, shrieking, spat out reminders
not the sunlight moving through the trees
not your birthday, the laundry, your mother
not my face in the morning, hands reaching
not the directions, not your appointments or morning meetings
not the wishes and dreams I murmur into your pillow
not our dog, water bowl clattering and bone dry

eight years past and the rage blisters my palms white hot
some wicked amalgamation, a spiteful frankenstein
mothering until your skin is smooth, peaceful
unmarred by sounds of pleading
begging, echoing

and even if the noises reached an unwavering pitch
past rooftops and crowns of trees
it would not matter
for you don't pay attention

are you now?

Dear lord,
Lead me away.
Hurt still greets me
In the hours of day.
My loss of love
Was extraordinary pain.
And all that’s left is
Your ghostly remains.