Gentle tearing of inhaling;
Lucent ember, before fading.
Within my chest, a certain calm,
A fire no fire can reach.
Another shot of tequila
Tearing my throat on its way down
Into my heart — a benign warmth,
A violence of benevolence.
We fall in love with the feeling
Of fire igniting our souls,
So even if we burn to ash
At least we lived before we died.
I was there at the beginning;
You were almost drowning
And I was barely on land.
I dug my feet into the sand
And tried to reach out for your hand
But you didn’t know how to reach.
You spent your days on the brink of death
It became the way you lived.
And so I thought that if I dived
In too you’d come ashore with me.
I was right, and I was wrong;
I’m gasping, and you are gone.
I see the appeal of the sea—
But now I see a hand.
Was it something I said?
Just yesterday we were almost
In love and making plans for tomorrow
And I swore our words were woven
We didn’t stop until you
Fell asleep without a
My screen lights up—it’s not you.
What are you doing?
My mind spirals down endless
Possibilities and of all of them
I choose the one that hurts the most
She told me how she loved to read,
Yet words were never what she loved;
She loved the places in her head,
Knowing full well they don’t exist.
I never could fathom the way
She made those places come alive.
So real to her, to me surreal—
I tried but never could believe.
Maybe that’s why she couldn’t stay;
She pictured us transcending pages
While I remained in this quatrain—
What love she loved I could not give.
I think it was ’bout half past five
The hour before the sun took form,
I think I laid on half a couch
My head still spun from all the shots.
I don’t quite know in which order
I gagged and spat and coughed and yawned,
Yet in the darkest before dawn,
Amidst the silent anarchy
Of clouded senses and sadness
A portion of my mind was clear.
So much that night I don’t recall
And yet I can’t seem to forget
You—the reason why I drank at all.
It was the twinkle in your eye,
That incandescent sojourning
Yearning adventure outside my arms.
Before you left without a word
You sighed and cried—those eyes that lied.
It was those tears that said goodnight.
It’s not your fault, I should’ve known
You always were a wanderer,
And this was just a passing by.
Why are you so obsessed
With trying to shine so bright,
When in infinite darkness
An ember becomes the Sun?