she had become broken
fragments of hope and
insecurities, reflecting off
the glass of whiskey and
rocks – promising herself
she was always the fighter,
staying rooted in her desires,
yet, with every passing sun
she was breaking off more
pieces of logic and reason,
trailing shards of debris and
rubble in her wake, with only
bits of glass left distressed
without a reflection to hold.

Toy, in attachment.

Caught between lifestyles
of silence or whispers gently
rocking me to sleep, I was
burdened with decisions that
I had no control over – I was a
puppet playing with my own
strings, tugging and pulling,
alone with my thoughts in a
constant contemplation if the
only decision I had left in my
pocket was to allow the strings
to break. I didn’t want to flee,
it wasn’t in my nature, but my
wrists were burning from the
weight, and I was in need of
some comfort – I just didn’t
know if I could still rely on
you to be the one to save me.

Truth will set you free.

I was too busy coddling
our future to notice the
present dwindling to ash,
falling away to memories
of stories we swore would
never become truth; I had
a plan, an escape set in
rhythm to condensation
sought after a whiskey
glass. I just wasn’t quick
enough in execution, and
failed in time to rhythms
of swaying heartbeats,
lighting stories filled of
new promises turned into
memories, with a match.

Street Corner

At the intersection of the busy and
very infrequent, where bike riders
would pass without helmets and
walkers would leisurely enjoy the
day amidst the hubble and bubble
of the downtown city; a place near
small commerce and residential with
patches of snow scattered on the
ground, and where I asked if I could
kiss you, on the corner of centennial
mall in the early hours of a morning
in late February. A corner for business
folk to pass by as they venture out of
the office for lunch to stop and gather
their favorite greasy delight, and where
drunks are stumbling to their cars or
someone’s car or just plain stumbling
around but with a purpose they are
telling themselves; where you said
yes, and I hadn’t even a moment to
gather a blush on my cheeks as I
kissed you, and thank goodness
I was leaning into you because my
knees gave way, and I would have
been kissing the ground instead. It is
a place scattered in the butts of lone
cigarettes, and pop cans, beer cans,
beer bottles, wrappers, gum and debris;
a place where most walk by and fail to
notice the sun, the breeze, the call of
the birds hovering in the distance, or
the laughter of the pedestrians as they
continue moving, never quite stopping
until they can whisper a complaint of
their busy lives in the comfort of their
own home. It’s an intersection of the
busy and the intermittent, and I can no
longer tell which one we are anymore.

Hide and Seek

The arrival of the storm
clouds, harboring darkness
in previous defeat, was my
only inclination that an
enemy of current state,
yet friend from long ago,
was making their way back
into my presence with a
stroke of hand and only
egos and lies following
in their wake – I was so
certain escaping the past
was easy, but only when it
no longer wants to be found.


with a push to the winds
you are pushing back,
fighting for the control
I never once let you have;
becoming a master in a
game built for two, being
played by us three, and
I am at a loss as to what
the rules are anymore.
all I am capable of doing
is to keep pushing, hoping
that you’ll continue to push
back, and to fear the day
when you no longer do.


I struck a match to call
in a favor, watching and
waiting as the smoke
billowed from the tips of
my fingers, heightening
in ashes and the cherry –
patience was never my
friend, as I longed for
time to escape me in
silence as I struck one
more match, hoping for
my luck to finally change.


I never follow my
desire and it costs
me a heartbeat,
every day of my life.
No action, no tears,
just a raw lack of
an all consuming
lifestyle brought
down with a break
in my day, when
my lungs contract
without a blood
flow transcending
into my soul; I am
delirious with a
desire that I can
no longer follow,
and I am not whole.


Remember how we used to
make fun of those lovers
bidding on their happily
ever after only two weeks
in? We’d laugh and gawk,
swearing that compassion
grew only with time and
understanding, and no one
else would ever compare
to what we had anyway.
But look at you now…
bidding your heart away
on another, two seconds in,
with only a lifetime of
happiness up for stake.


I am at my saddest knowing
that listening to others opinion
is still ruled in favor of following
your own heart; not being able to
love or laugh beyond memories
cast twice in words and written
in the shadows of the moon.
We have nothing left but time to
fix, yet unless these words are
whispered by another they are no
longer truth, but rapid successions
of a lonely, still beating heart.