I do often times wonder
What this would now be,
If four years ago
You'd simply said "Hi" to me.

Would I have been this quick
To let you inside?
With such an unspoken welcome
Like a vacancy sign?

Or would I have refused
And simply walked away?
Without ever knowing
The man you are today?

Would I still look at you now,
The way I did yesterday?
Could I still make you blush,
With the things that I say?

Would we be different people,
Had timing not been the same?
Would I still smile like I do,
Every time I speak your name?

But it went like it did,
With 4 trips 'round the sun.
And here we are now,
On trip number one.

an egg
on the edge

cannot float
it falls

we fall
the abyss

is not as far
as we think

we think
we are high

but we are
rolling down

the hill
toward the

edge we
cannot float

like an egg

de-focus.
being alone as a kid
in a parking lot is poetry later.
de-focus, please.

hope is deep, i know.
the lack of it is worse.

She died drunk as desolation
played her a gentle hymn
with flies crawling from under her tongue
and leaving her to her grave.

My tears made spots in
the dirt on her face,
we were in love with the chase of
highs we no longer attained.

Like sunken bug bites on her arm
with cuts all along her thigh,
I couldn't keep her from harm so we
cried through the nights as our highs
damaged us as much as the lows.

One day she moved no more,
having begged and beaten on the door
for too long till her hands were bruised,
and her soul failed her after so much disuse.

distract me from the stars,

sharpie the moon,

bury my soul inside this room.

the sheets are gone,

you would cringe at the floor,

i could count on both hands,

each time i have opened my door.

infinite are the slowest moments,

that i wish i was still yours.