tracing the lines of poems
has taught me clairvoyance.

now i can flip the cards behind your hearts.

word tricks are math.
reading is the art.

While I would lay on your chest
Your lips pressed against my neck
As your fingertips drew on my back
I would always quietly ask you
What you were writing
You would smile
Which I would feel travel from my throat
To my soul
And gently say my full name
But with your last name

I named my flowers
After you.
After all, there's strong resemblance -
Both of you are made of plastic,
Colorful and fake.

I named my onions
After you.
After all, there's strong resemblance -
Both of you had made me weep,
Blinded by the burns.

I named my scissors
After you.
After all, there's strong resemblance -
Both of you have torn apart
Endless hearts of paper and people.

I named my coffee
After you.
After all, there's strong resemblance -
Both of you held my consciousness
Captive in your hands.

I named my one-night
After you,
After all, there's strong resemblance -
Both of you took what you wanted
Then took off and never looked back.

I named my poems
After you.
After all, there's strong resemblance -
The amount of pain that you both made me go through,
Is just how far
I've grown.

Then suddenly the storm ended
  
The chaos was over

The sun came out and shed it’s light on all the wreckage

It made the tears running down my cheeks sparkle like diamonds

luminous, like an incandescent
star, you fell into my life,

unwrapping me like gift paper,
wearing my fabrics like those

boyfriend jeans you liked
me to put on.

i melted like ice in
the liquids of your voice,

tore open the love letter
you wrote on my heart

and collapsed, an exquisite
and beautiful rose, with the

longing in your eyes, tender
and delicious, every sense

awakened, every joy believed.

i don't miss you
let me establish this
the second guessing
the guilt
your overwhelming presence
i know i'm better off
it will never be you i miss
just the company

You have the right to remain silent?
Anything you say will be held against you?
Still, they spoke to say, I love you.

i stare at these pages
as if the words
are going to be enough
to bring you back,
as if the blood spilled
will be all you need
to see that i'm right here.
yet once again,
all i'm left with
is ink stained hands
and a fracture in my chest.