Pressing my hands
against the edges of my jean pockets,
I sit on the opposite side of the bench
inches apart
from you.

Hanging by a thread,
we both know there’s a lot less in hope in the seams,
than there used to be.

I wonder
which one of us
will be the first
to let

I’m not smiling at the incentive,
not crying over the present,
though our heart muscles’ strain is relentless,

I won’t give up on love
just yet.

We experienced so many moments together,
took milestone risks and veered straight through the pressure.
So what happened to all that time?
I’d wish for anything to make it play on forever,
but that’s only if you’re willing to
keep the threads strong.

Because I don’t want to end up threadbare,
stripped thin of every vein I own.
I can’t imagine you finding a replacement,
another heart for your home.

Hanging by a thread,
our exhales grow a little larger,
while your spirits struggle to get high,
but out of all the melancholy,
a lamp post lights up the dark
across bittersweet foliage.
I’m hoping it will give you a sense of mind,
and maybe a second chance for us to grip onto
our heartstrings
once again.

Blue Fatigue



My realm
rains a little dimmer
without the light
from your tears.

Time no longer glows.

The memory
of your voice lures me
into blue fatigue

where my head isn’t getting any stronger
my heart
is fetching consolation
in the breeze.

Succumbing to these senses,
I fall fatal for the rush,
becoming lost
the depths of devotion,
and power
of love

we blew out
before dark.

A Theory of Light



Under pine tree bedtime bristles,
did you ever think
to look above
at the sky
for a sign
—a hunter’s arrow—
seeking light?

Where collective stardust
fuses our dreams
before motley divine,
and tomorrow’s seasons
hail a sacrificial lover
toward the divide,
I bend and scrape my
way past evergreen war knives.

So many years have gone by,
without my spirit nestled near your side.
So many days have met their plight
because I couldn’t dare to breathe
when I no longer felt alive.

Out of the mist,
and shooting against goodbye blue,
I pray now to glory, I can make it through and through,
carrying my last brittle words,
bundled for you.

How I wish I could harness back my body,
that human corpse you once adored,
to relive what it’s like
to feel the inner locomotion of a heartbeat,
the rush of a storm embedded in my veins,
instead of lonesome river rock rapids,
pounding vibrations interfering with my ray.

The closer I get, the closer I am to relinquishing my luster,
you could be anywhere here.
So I’m forcing myself to embrace the unknown,
the call of the wild shall steer
me to your bow.

But as soon as I cross your path,
will you know who touched your sleeve,
or will I just become another
theory of light?
A prophetic ember
reborn to cede?