You hurt me with hands that once healed,
and still, I kiss the wounds you leave behind.

You are my poison and my prayer.
A god I can’t stop kneeling for,
even as the altar crumbles under me.

We are saints of suffering,
bound not by grace,
but by the echo of every scream we swallowed,
just to stay.


The silence.
The sweetness that comes too late
and still tastes like heaven.
I know the cage,
and I decorate it in your name.
Call it temple.
Call it home.

You say you love me
in the same breath that cuts me.
And I believe you.
Not because it’s true,
but because it has to be.
Because if it isn’t,
then what am I left with
but ruin?

We’re stitched together with wounds and longing,
with apologies that rot before they reach our lips.

Everything I love about her.

I love the way you laugh at my jokes even when I don't think they're very funny.

I love the random little outbursts you have that make you look cute and adorable.

I love that when I'm with you I feel at peace and can open up like never before.

I love getting a good morning and a goodnight message because to me, you're the first and last thing I think about every day.

I love the way you smile because when you do it's like nothing else around me matters

I love the fact that when you're anxious or worried about something I can be there to reassure you that everything will be ok.

I love the way you just zone out into your own little world then moments later return back with a smile on your face knowing that I was here waiting for you come back.

I love that what you say is what you mean and what you mean is what you say.

The only thing that hurts about loving all these things about you is not being able to share them with you.

I have not seen my my mother for such a long time.
The sweetest woman.
Sometimes I ask myself "where is my mother?"
I really want to see her.
But death is so final!
I lost my father a few years before losing my mom.
I used to sit with him in cafes and chat about anything.
Sometimes I ask myself, "where is my father?"
I really want to be in a cafe with him and chat.
But death is so final!
When I was young I lived with my aunt for a few months.
A wonderful young woman, taken away too early by cancer.
She treated me like her own son.
We enjoyed having ice cream.
Sometimes I ask myself, "where is my aunt?"
I really want to share an ice cream with her.
But death is so final!
I lost a good friend to COVID.
We used to have lunch together.
Sometimes I ask myself, "where is my good friend?"
I really want to have lunch with him.
But death is so final!
My mentor died of ALS.
I learned so much from him.
Sometimes I ask myself, "where is he?"
There is so much more I can learn from him.
But death is so final!

His peering and plotting through drunken red eyes.
The wobbling and slurring, his only disguise.

All of the things, he does wittiness each day.
Bobbling ideas, of how they will pay.

Quick is the daylight, when one only drinks.
Clouding and shortening, the time that he thinks.

Everything, he had planned, went way to fast.
Continually waking, with less of the past.

Feeling the victim, and never ahead.
Hanging to life by a thread til he's dead.

With no one to care for, unable to love.
Blind to the light, that will shine from above.

It’s like the water my chapped lips crave,
Like the yard wishing for sun after a rainy day,
How grateful the dark is for fireflies—
How the stars settle into the pitch-black sky.

It’s reaching for your favorite pen to write a note,
Warm honey tea to soothe an aching throat,
The hush of 5 a.m. broken by birdsong and soft light,
Sipping warm coffee prepared just right.

I need to write a dot, not a comma,
To our book, in which I've never been beloved,

But was a memory, a temporary guest,
With little space you gave me in your chest.

Your life goals are only hedonistic,
What made me feel not quite optimistic.

Cannot be a sailor, cannot leave the shore:
You, on my life-boat to face a storm.

My absence won't be hard, won't be a test,
As a new toy will appear on your desk.

This for you, is enough for my replacement,
Since I had zero chance to become your heart’s rudiment!

I shivered, while you sat still—
across the room, laughing,
asking about my day,
buying me flowers.
My eyes would search,
x-ray through clouds,
to find you—
tall and smiling.

I shivered, while you sat still,
as the AC blasted,
lectures of the gods lingered.
I know you felt it too
when I walked away.
Lucky us—
distance bought fondness.

I shivered, while you sat still,
talking about our lives,
holding me through the night,
smiling at the sky,
watching the fireworks die.
It’s okay.
It might work out again.
The eleventh time is the charm.

I shivered, while you sat still,
next to your wife,
smiling—
and I finally froze.