The strain on your smile is undeniable,

ashes collect below your withering

eyes and that you could be so blind

not to see anything wrong here

(Yes, something is definitely wrong)

But it isn’t on your side

It could never be your fault

For before the wolfish hunger and the putrid things

There was some eternal thing he had then

A mad fixation, an illogical thing, an old flame waiting to enkindle when the time is right

Like the sun, always setting, sinking down on a mistake, just about everyday

Forced to resort

When he is calling you, still openly keeping suggestions and saving numbers-

When did you understand, as you wondered what could’ve been keeping him from fully loving you

That now you waited only for everything to inevitably fall apart.


But could you imagine that he has been loyal all this time?

Though it wasn’t to you darling, it was to a fake ideal

To something dignified

Something deeply personal and not just potentially real

Such as finding someone washed up in the morning beside you

Seeming like the shine would never fade

Only to find out it’s not as honest and real as it used to be.


For I know


are things that sing

across distant miles the same song

They will understand anything

Even the sensation of

art never truly finished,

only momentarily abandoned.



Drifting like a pale blue speck

In the cities of there could be,

I’d now know that I could hold you as tightly as you’ve held onto me


For your words are poison, but how easy they are to hear, repeatedly when they roll on my tongue.

And your beauty is a snare, outrageously still, tailing your shadow, I ache for

your presence

that is somehow always there

somehow always reasserting itself back in small and horrific ways

Even on the shores of other ends,

Along thousands of hours, with people that know not what we have madly forgiven

Until it lets go

stumbling onto something old

Or into something new.




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