240 Oz

I will never forget the day you told me that I reminded you of a sunset on the dawn of salvation,

Climbing and scaling the multiverse, carving out oceans on moons and black beaches on coasts that didn’t exist yet,

“Who are you??”, I would laugh in mild satisfaction and wonder, as we held hands, and sat close on one Thursday afternoon in June.

Little did I know that this would be the moment that would begin the rest of our forever, with and without each other.

I wanted to be independent of the pain and disappointment,

I hated to see it because it would hurt so bad –

Slicing me in even sections of vice and virtue, more vice if we’re counting the missed calls and blocked numbers,

You would tell me to stop chasing after ghosts and their distant shadows that would lead me off a cliff to an earthless bottom,

To walk away from things that didn’t love me like your vinyl collection, your spicy hugs in our kitchen, the big sleep when you’re finished.


You’ve already told me I have a perfect shaped cranium,


Enable me to be fearless and pursue heights eyes have seen but have never captured,

Lay down foundations for all the soil I’ve looked upon to sail inward to my favorite places,

I assassinate to be watched, and paint with an eloquence to be tasted by the blind,

It hurt more when I learned of how angry I really am and shallow I’ve become.

Drowning in pounds of liquid tonic buried below my closet,

Clawing, for your hand and you pull back so I can’t reach it,

Pounding, my heavy hand on your door and crying, asking you to let me in – why is your heart locked?

Open, stop shutting up on me, peal back the sticky thread etched across your lips, speak to me,

I’m sorry.

I should have drained it all before the lights came on.


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