Wishful Thinking
All of time occurs at once, the misperception of linear cause-and-effect, here-to-there me-to-you
the past is present the bags beneath my eyes proof that you exist outside of this false perception here-to-there me-to-you
the bags beneath my eyes carved now into my skull all of time occurs at once: you are loving me, leaving me, gone
here-to-there.
Hushed
“Soft-spoken”, as an insult used to slap sense into my cheeks (in one ear and out the other, my gaze tracing the clouds) eyes without accuracy leave yours out of reach: “there is no pride in quiet”. Screaming does nothing for me I’ve enough of the voices in my head “soft-spoken” as others trample the few utterances before they’re lodged into my throat “soft-spoken” before I’m no longer heard
until I’m no longer seen.
Being
i. this is not us
there you are,
in my arms
eyes open,
and you are not.
pages turn, chapters
fade into each other
time no longer holds
any meaning.
ii. this is what we used to be cradled in my arms, always in my arms your hair as feathers melting into the bed melting into each other
iii. this is us I look for you in the streets regret keeps my feet planted while my neck cranes above ground searching for the feathers and soft of your eyes.