Walking on
Shards of
Mirror. I have a
Thousand clones
Sharing
My pain.

Such is
World. Humanity. And
Tragedy.

A shoebox of letters
hand written on yellow looseleaf
pages upon pages of promises
written in red ink,
a coffin in need of a burial
a reminder of a life
and a love denied.

February 14th, 1989
penned within my first year
the name at the top is not mine
but she writes to him
the way you will write to me
only two decades later.

I shiver as I read each draft;
to realize our failed romance
was but an echo of the past.

the way life used to be
isn't what i miss,
it's each individual moment-
lapsing over and over one another
creating an inconceivable picture
of everything i love,
now lost

too proud to quit
too proud to improve
the noble poet died
as quietly as he
could

She walked away, and I shouted back, "I'm not asking for forever!"
She stops. She turns in the aisle and sadly smiles.
"That's why I'm leaving." My own smile drops.
And that's the end of that endeavour. Because time never really stops.
Forever is all some people want, and they won't settle for just a while.
Even if a while is all that I've got.

"Where is this going?"
you ask me, breathless

I know you are inquiring
about the next 5 minutes
but I cannot help but consider
the next 5 years
as I spill out words
that affirm the next move
you have been patiently waiting to play
for months

and the word friend
flashes in neon lights
behind my eyelids
as I think about your arm around my waist
in the bar just a few hours before
and your mouth pressed to my head
aggressively whispering
"Stop."
on the way home
when the heat in my chest
started to build
after looking at your phone

"We'll talk about this later,"
you tell me definitively
and so in the cold December air
you tell me that I deserve better
and that you do not deserve my suppressed tears
that might freeze if they fell

As you turn on the lights
so you can see what you're doing
I lie in your bed
now knowing
what it is like to be in a relationship

(but please don't use that word)