At a quarter past nine, the sheets unfurl themselves.
I curl to the warm body next to mine.
Just long enough to know she’s not waking up,
She evaporates as I reach for her hand.

I curl to any warm body next to mine –
Only a draft and the disease.
She evaporates as I reach for her hand.
Burnt coffee boils reflections of her.

Only a draft and the disease.
My head hangs heavy on a leash.
Burnt coffee boils reflections of her,
And 3am feels like drywall.

My head hangs heavy on a leash.
I talk to my therapist through a screen.
3am feels like drywall,
and it smells like stale bread at lunchtime.

I talk to my therapist through a screen.
I am sick in a different way.
It smells like stale bread at lunchtime.
There is no cure —just containment.

I am sick in a different way.
Beers in the fridge if I want them.
There is no cure – just containment.
**** in my top drawer if I’m bored.

Beers in the fridge if I want them.
I would be drinking alone.
**** in my top drawer if I’m bored.
I would be smoking alone.

I am drunk and alone.
At a quarter past nine, the sheets curl around me.
I am high and alone.
Just long enough to know she’s not waking up.

How do I make the most of words and lines?
That is the question I must ask of you.
Please help me with this noble quest of mine.
With all these words, I don’t know what to do.

A rhyme flies by and slips right through my tongue.
A metaphor takes form then disappears.
My mind can’t turn these words into a poem.
These rules, this craft is nothing but unclear.

Shakespeare and all his friends are mocking me.
They see the suffering through this terrible fate.
To mold just fourteen lines in quatrain three,
And little couplet—yeah, it’s you I hate.

Okay, I quit. It simply won’t all fit.
Oh, why can’t I just write a **** sonnet?

Every day, I inch
Out

to every character
in my life:

Mom and Dad. On the
patio of the white house that almost always
looked
like a home.

Friends. Told quick, before I had
time
to take back my
breath.

Four siblings. Who made
fun of me like
normal to make me feel
just a little
lighter inside.

Every person I will meet in the future-
Employers,
Clients,
Extended family
God (?)

Coming out is like a caterpillar,
Inching toward something --
inching toward flying
inching
              and inching
                                    and inching
Out.

Oh caterpillar,
hesitant little caterpillar,
climbing
up the tree,
cocooning various parts
of yourself
as you inch toward who you’ll be.

The moon knows how to be lonely at night
It struggles through darkness and still stays alight
I think there are lessons the moon could teach me
About midnight and starlight and consistency
The world makes most sense when its black and white

There’s wisdom tucked in the constellations alright
It’s just about trying and trusting your sight
Because the sky will light up like a Christmas tree
And the moon knows how to be lonely

So take down your notes, take in all the light
Notice the shine that remains through the night
In your own darkness, I hope you can see
Your light like the moon you always wanted to be
The stars can teach you how to shine bright
And the moon knows how to be lonely

Tick
Can you hear the time?
Tock
It passes by.
Tick
It never stops.
Tock
Why won’t it stop?
Tick
What if it stops?
Tock
Please don’t stop.
Tick
What time is it?
Tock
How much is left?
Tick
Once at the beginning.
Tock
Can you hear the end?

TickTockTickTockTickTock...

There is a compass in my heart, and you are my due north. You magnetize me with your smile, and you show me my way home.