Sadness always takes
By surprise.
Enveloping with its
Heavy, languid
breath.

Bitter wine pours
Through the exhausted body.
Leaving scarlet traces
From its sharp needles.

I'm minding my business, I've got things to do,
Yet my skin is tingling, I think I feel you
Do I just ignore it? Do I give into chase?
Either way I know I'm ****** once I see your face

A heartache so close, a whisper so far
Every shadow around me turns to where you are,
I pace this map, acting like I'm fine
But your presence sends electrical shivers down my spine

I said I was done, it was my means of escape
But I've always hit the exit gates just after it's too late,
You see my scratch marks, a residual trail for you how great

I never meant to linger, never meant to be seen,
But you track me like blood, like you know where I'll be,
I loop around my guilt, vault over your grace,
Still caught in your terror radius, heart stuck in this place.

I swore I’d keep my distance, but the thoughts refuse to stay quiet. On nights that stretch too still, I drift back to the places your shadow used to linger. A flicker in the corner of my screen, just pixels, yet they haunt me like something I once held close. I follow the traces that lead to you. Are they breadcrumbs you’ve left behind or traps? Either way, I follow, hoping they’ll guide me back to your path. Your status changes, and I read it like scripture, searching for echoes of the space I used to fill. There are windows left open that you once ensured shut. Maybe by accident. Maybe not. Maybe for me. A recently played song, a watched video, a game you spent your free time on, small offerings that I gather and tuck away like sacred fuel. And if you catch sight of me, just a ghost in the rafters, I hope you won’t turn away. I hope, even now, you’ll leave a light on for me.

Canadian goose sitting
On retaining wall of stone.
Bellied up to the roadside edge,
Seemingly alone.

Wistful and wishful the goose,
While watching the men working-
On sterile high rise apartments
Near build-it-and-they-will-come bars.

With wings that can fly, oh why,
Does it seem like he will jump?
It's a 10 ft fall way down below
To a concrete & chrome filled dump.

I look into his eyes to find,
The huge suffering he feels.
But further there beyond the goose,
A habitat's revealed.

A winding glade n' Greenway path,
To an urban pond and park.
Not as grim to him, I see--
friends swimming by the dock.

Yes, a goose will always find
The water in the sprawl.
He'll find the pretty little stream,
By offices & malls.

To be goose, is to be free
Of yearning and supposing.
Of thinking how things ought to be,
Unsettled by the hoping.

If I could find my little stream,
Oh, maybe I could swim.
I could honk and splash and settle down-
Find the peace somewhere within.

in a sense my innocence
has brought about some strange events
your unabashed sinfulness
my cute, careful religiousness
a surprising synthesis

in a sense, was my innocence
a recompense for your bitterness?
i sought your soul with reverence
from your tenderness, my mind undressed
a haunt old as some sacred texts

of a pure and honest impetus
our pride found a submissiveness
my naivete,
your diligence
thanks to our collective dissonance
a love made to be infamous