Moments of love feel almost medical—
but my patience for it is cold, clinical.
I never meant to overdose, just chasing
comfort in a heavy dose of someone new,
to help me cope.

I try to build a house from broken pieces—
too many to count. I am the empty echo
of a heart still full, but far too loud
to be heard.

Echo...
  Echoes
     fall between the silence of our words,
two awkward breaths apart—trying
to keep it innocent, just as friends,
while our primal skins just want to skip
to the part of just having ***.

It’s the risk of falling in love—
that makes us stumble near the edge.
It’s beautiful. It’s ******* stupid.
It hurts. It’s love.
Whether it finds you first, as the one
you need— or shows up last, as the one
you never really wanted.

I am washing the sheets,
from so much overflowing love,
from so much sweat,
from passion found.

I wash the sheets,
of a beautiful early adventure,
full of communication,
sincere affection,
and flames.

Your smile and your gaze
lit up my mornings.

I wash the sheets,
because today we must say goodbye,
because the universe brought us together,
but the voice of society tears us apart.

Where a woman's feelings
are accepted,
but a man's are a sentence.

A sweet reflection,
that a dark part
holds onto us.

Where a woman can cry in broad daylight,
while a man destroys himself.

Abuse of repression,
for emotions left unvalidated.

I am not something strong,
I am not fortitude,
I am a human consciousness.

Society, I do not seek your approval,
but for my soul to be heard.

I did not need to fit into a mold
for my manhood to be accepted.

And let values be more expensive
than success.

I wash the sheets,
for my past wounds.

Sheets of a farewell,
for my expectations created.

Sheets of oblivion,
because even though there was fire,
our stories did not intertwine.

Sheets of hope,
that I will sweat,
because someone better awaits us tomorrow.