I have heard you can’t make homes
out of human beings
you’ve become mine,
even when we have
no place to claim as ours,
and now the thought of leaving you
feels like
the homesickness I remember
from my childhood.
There are weights tied to my ankles
as I try to walk away,
a sentimentality that threatens
to break me clear in two.
you have already broken me,
because you couldn’t come to terms
with how to fix yourself.



There are now months
between the times that you touch
me the way that we used to,
but I still take the pills
that keep me empty inside;
I don’t want cells to divide
and tether me here
to these stories I tell
myself to stay calm.
Before the storm,
you are always too busy
to give shelter.
You take
too long to deliberate
and I am adrift,
just like all the times before.



Interview prep

I sit on the barbershop couch
and marvel at the irony of it all,
listening to you make small talk
like it is nothing,
like it is natural.
I’m not used to that,
and I absorb the cadence of your voice
in between songs on the stereo.
It was proposed that I had
engineered this interview just to
spruce you up a bit,
but I am slowly realizing
love might mean
not wanting to change someone,
not even the things I used to pick apart.
I wonder how long that lasts;
I wonder if I will have time to find out.


Disappointment redirected

I focused
for far too long
on how this should
play out –
measurements of moments lost.
You focused
for far too long
on how you could
but not
the root of the issue.
Now we focus
little by little
inch by inch we try to
measure moments gained,
memories made,
and I wait
{sometimes impatient}
for old mistakes to fade.


Ghost conversations

Today we spoke
barely a word,
but you have still been with me,
in this time warp of
who we used to be.
I am just
trying to turn the pieces
so we fit together now,
like we did before.
It doesn’t work like that,
I know,
but I had to try
one last time
before I let us go.