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thousands of miles from where my name means something in a city where no one knows me— it still feels like home. not the warm kind. not the kind with open arms and someone waiting at the door. the quieter kind. the colder kind. the kind i’ve known for as long as i can remember. i’ve always known loneliness. it was never loud. just steady. like...

Why do I stand here, screaming? Into this stormy weather. Do I want to be heard, or am I to afraid? To get noticed… Why does it have to be? All or Nothing! I have you, I am happy. No one gets me, the world falls apart. Trying, but not hard enough Doing it all at once, no focus Try to focus, nothing gets done Screaming! So loud, but nothing. Fall...

On a wave above the Moon a crimson silence froths Makes you forget yourself and hurts when you can’t laugh For when you try to touch the Moon but glide a little past This silence is forever and rhymes ‘a broken heart’

You may not be able to see me, but that does not mean I am no longer here. You may not be able to touch me, but that does not mean I am gone forever. The physical world may know me to be dead, but I am, in truth, very much alive – more alive, in fact, than I have ever been, In ways that you do not understand. You think that I am unaware of how...

They call her a voice of brown pain, But we’ve heard louder cries, from fields soaked in sacrifice, from mothers who buried sons, not metaphors. They sold us short, for lowercase lines and over-capitalized lies— as if formatting could mask the absence of truth. She speaks of lands she never walked, names wounds she never bore, calls for borders...

“After all we’ve been through, It can’t be over, you must keep going” One said as a partner grew Colder, with a contented smile of knowing He grabbed a hand and said “It’s okay for the journey to be over, That’s the best part, because That’s when you can start a new one, Rest a moment, then see what’s next” A tear fell, and words quivered “I...

However it cooled between us, let it begin again. Show me the room in you that I was welcome in again. Your shoulder shrugs my hand off like a coat in April, so I pocket both hands, fold all my wanting in again. I ration tenderness now like sugar in a war year, afraid to offer what will not be taken in again. We used to talk until the candle...