MIDNIGHT

I hope you remember me
in the midnights of yourself,
in the ten half moons that
cupped my face and confessed
your love for me on the
last Sunday of April.

How unpleasant it has been,
to only be seen by you when
the Sun has set and Nyx has
stained your vision with her poison.

Even at our best, it was always
with the help of another woman
that you saw my worth,
however temporarily.

I am beautiful too,
you know,
in the vulnerable streams of
daylight, the muted mixture of
sunshine particles and
exhaled pixie dust.

I am magic—
a witch, a deity, and a minx,
yanking oceans with the
center of my own gravity,
undoing the shackles you have
clasped around my ankles
just because I can. 

Concert

We locked eyes

And mouthed “I love you”

With the excuse of a song

Playing in the arena around us.

You were wearing jeans and heavy boots;

I remember because they thudded loudly

On my carpet later that night

When the right people made the wrong decisions.

We touched noses and I held you there,

The gentle slopes of our faces

Crashing down with waves of dopamine

That lit the world with a feigned fire of forged emotion.

The butterfly kisses were my favorite;

My wings were too short and yours tickled.

Sometimes we’d make them fly to each other,

And our lips would barely brush but that was enough.

“You’re a strange, strange girl,” you said,

and I breathed in deep to save every last molecule of you.

It was the only way you knew how to say “I love you”

When the music stopped and there was nothing to fill the silence.

i wonder

i wonder, how often do you think of me?

is it every time you breathe and my mouth is not there to inhale a small sliver of your soul?

or is it every time you look up and your gaze is not met with my eyelashes brushing gently against your cheek?

or maybe it is every time your lips curl up into a smile and there is no one there to laugh at your crooked teeth.

or perhaps it is every time you furrow your brow in frustration and i am not there to smoothen your forehead with a kiss.

i wonder, do you even notice that i am no longer there?

or if when you breathe now, your lungs flutter with sighs of relief.

or if when you look up, all you see is clarity where mist once clouded your judgment -- your every thought.

or if when every time you smile, it is of release and of the realization that this is what you've always wanted -- to be alone.

or if when you furrow your brow, it is in genuine confusion as to why it took you so long to get here.

i wonder, how often do you regret the life i so terribly miss?

7/18/16, 4:30pm

You loved me like the monsoon loved the insignificant suburban town at mid afternoon in the heart of July. A sudden, steady intensity, a deliberate, blinding love, with thousands of droplets roaring the same simple promise of Forever. Thick with the heat of passion, dense with the sanctity of happy ever after. The world turns white, contained in a violent storm of Now. We are encapsulated in the fervor of Eternity, never wavering under the pillars of thundercloud strength.

I cannot see anything but this moment, you and I, our hearts beating in time to the brutal pitter patter of downpour. Time has stopped as we breathe to the rhythm of the growling grey skies, and of each other. I am suffocated by the humidity of your words, yet I grapple to breathe in more. I struggle to remember a life outside of this propitious, silver whirlwind. I don’t think I want to.

We could have only been evoked by a rain dance, the final resort of a man desperate for love. The universe has worked so hard for us to be, yet in an instant, we are gone—you, are gone. The trees have surrendered their wooden thrones, and the sidewalks guiltily reek of a damp, forgotten romance. Zeus watches, mouth agape, bewildered and inexplicably wounded. When the Sun finally reveals itself again, we dazzle in the specks of flint sparking in the concrete, begging to be remembered. The storm has passed, and nothing is the same.

97 In Between

We parted ways at the center clock

With small embraces

And mumbled exchanges

Sauntering to our numbered platforms

Looking back for a moment

Reluctant yet relieved.

As I stepped onto my train

Whisked away back again

To a sleepy one horse town

I began to wonder

About all the things I didn't say:

Was he closer to his father

Or his mother?

Was he scared of being swallowed whole

In a school of 30,000

Or would he navigate gracefully

Through the crowds of people

Trying their best to make sense of it all

Just like him?
Even though he swears he’s not a messy eater

How many times a day

Does he stain his baby blue button down

With mint chocolate chip ice cream?

Does he watch them splash around

Darting his eyes from left to right

For the money

Or something

Deeper

And bigger

Than all of us?

Why finance?

Does it make his heart sing,

And would he ever consider Wall Street?

What goes on

In that beautiful mind 

As he sits quietly in a corner

With an empty beer can in hand

Waiting for someone to notice him?

Did he know he was the first time

I looked at novelty with eagerness;

Something other than spite?

And lastly,

Did he know

On the subway ride home

Back to 42^nd

Where I discovered

That the crook of his arm

Was a place I fit perfectly

That this was the last time?
Did he know it was the end

To something that had not yet begun

Or does he too,

Wonder

About all the things he didn't say?