Hearing the second static sound, I turned
And saw the insects’ blue light on the wall
Like a huge nest of babies stacking tall—
Asleep, against their permanent blue bed.
Why did these bugs succumb to being burned,
Did they not see their kind that went before?
These foolish creatures know not they can soar,
Desiring only bodies to be warmed.

But aren’t we just like headless, mindless things?
We toy with death because it’s not enough
To know, we need to feel what darkness brings
As it frees us from our conscious cuffs.
We claim to think but sink into the night
Innately unconscious of our blue light.


Your hair is like fall’s bright brown leaves
That falls and rests above your breast,
Your eyes illume, devoid of grief
Amongst the void, as midnight rests.

Your lips stretched thin to paint this smile,
A smile I know you do so well
To mask the pain and hide the ail—
Beauty and sorrow, parallel.

But you conceal like heaps of snow
Under the vibrant golden leaves
Creating the void, white and cold
Just like the day you took your leave.

And since estranged is all we’ll be,
This portrait will be all I’ll see.


You, me, and the coffee in between.
Tapping on the lid, I take another sip—
It’s getting colder now. The cream
Has dissolved, I know as I peep
through the slit. There’s a little left
Of this latte, but I sit it back down
Again. I know, once there’s nothing left
Between we’d go our separate ways.


I imagined a symphony, the electricity
In your touch that would invigorate
That very vitality inside me
I lost the day you left and I
Imagined us slow dancing, amidst
Our trembling hearts, with fear
And hope in both our hands.
But you came back just like a whisper
And then dissolved into the wind.


They say that girls mature faster than boys.
That might be true, at least for me and you.
You were class head while I still had my toys,
I liked you then, despite your tough and cool.
Do you recall that one crushed paper ball
You warned me not to kick around the class?
My dear I was your crumpled paper ball
You chose to pick and straighten, then you asked:
“Will you be my stead?” confused I wore
Your novel sheepish gaze, waiting.
You took my stillness for another hour
Then left. I realize now, I left you hanging.
If I had known to stead meant together,
Then we might just— well, you might still be here.