I decided to write a poem today
Hoping that the words I had to say
Were as flawless as the thoughts
That consumed me.

Barely warm tea leaves
brew with a blissful wonder,
reminds me of love.

Sometimes,
I wish my apartment steps
were made of glass
so the night we met -
they shattered and we never
would have made the connection
that sold my soul
to the devil
back last year.

The price
was that I would
miss you
for the rest
of my life,

And I wish I could
take it all back.

The cut on my inner palm.

It reminds me of the night you told me that
you thought we'd be better off going on our own paths,
and how my blood didn't seep as deeply into life's cloth
as your longing for someone new was aching above the surface.

It's been awhile
since I have let myself feel
anything at all.

Trauma from the past
knows how to enter itself
back into your life
when you least expect it,
causing the dominoes of your
sanity to collapse under the
societal pressures you've housed
your mental state into, silently
praying there will be a glitch in
gravity that will cause all motions
and bad thoughts to cease, leaving you
with a state of uninterrupted peace and
numbness to shield your remaining
innocence and childlike mannerisms away.
Even if it's just for a second.

No one saw
the sun that bled
in my mouth –
it burned a distinct taste
onto my tongue
that reminded me
of you.

Our fingers brushed in the gallery opening
not so long ago,
we were in a room full of art,
but you were the only masterpiece I was looking for.

To paint?
To write?
To make a cup of coffee
in the broad morning light?

To sing?
To create?
To have something tangible
created in the wake?

Of tragedy
Of plague
Of a sickness we aren't sure we have
we quarantine because reason is vague?

All of our brains
are sick with worry and fear.
Mental illness *****.

You have not aged well.
The weight you carried became
your worst enemy.

Dim candlelight illuminates the mistakes
while the shadows envelop the rest of my thoughts.
Darkness never seems to end when it stems
deeply from within one's self.

Sometimes the past comes
and its earth-shattering sound
vibrates through your skull.

Finding ways to heal
It takes time and reflection
Isolation helps.

Bleeding from my lips,
breathing in tortuous love
when I'm all alone.