it disgusts me how often i think of you
i would jump off bridges
off trains
off skyscrapers
to see you in the stinging water
in the cold whip of the wind
in the clouds in the sky
your name would be the last sound that leaves my lips
because i never got to say it again
because i said it a handful of times and life decided that was enough
it wasn't.
no, i don't think of you often at all,
because often implies there is an end and a beginning,
but there is no pause when it comes to you
for
you are the beginning,
and you were the end.

To erase all my love for you,
I buried my heart six feet under.
You like to visit that graveyard,
to lay flowers upon my grave.
Your tears soak the earth,  
begging for a second chance
Taking the shovel in both hands,
you began digging.
My heart still beats, so fast, unevenly
For you and only you
Holding the heart very gently,
you come after me,
with the purpose of restoration

Spray paint the canvas of the night sky;
the red reflections in my eyes,
silently swallows up a thought,
to save a piece of mind.

So in my waking dream, I navigate
this intricate minefield of love’s emotions,
that all become so probable,
after calling you mine.

mine own psalm musings

living between two broad, sea-emptying rivers,
a Majesty’s sentries to mark the differentiation~
division tween divine and a moderate human’s
moderating steps, as his stride shortens as the y/tears
lengthen, and it is accepted as an inevitable musky must,
no matter how the sweet spring day refreshes, the newly
planted trumpeting shards of bright yellows daffodils
pinch his yellowing eyes, few notice the tiny tears of
discrepancies of an annualized emboldening, a grand
heavenly rebirth and a slow man’s body self~editing,
shedding of a life’s~ending~of~story psalm musings

the man looks for the terrible swift sword, but its
failure to grace us with an appearance, is but a
modest disappointment, for a deferred delay is but
a causation to eke out a few mordant, pungent, caustic
reminders of all that is yet to be, to be accomplished,
though the smirking lips of the necessity of yet, one
more unloved poem extant, tilting the Earth’s axis
benevolently toward the open palms of his beneficiaries who,

you,

are among them numbered, is but, a green shoot in a city’s
hopeful earth planted, by summer, will shed seeds to come
thy way, as an evocation, a good consternation, a joyous
provocation, an asking kingly~gentle, a royal polite inquiry,
would you care to add a a verse to this eternal verse?
before time shreds it too into a yellowed crumpling,
and to the earth it is returned, for the mine of this
psalms is only generic, genetic,  and what is mine is well,

and truly yours too.


nml
<>
March 31, 2024
NYC
9:16am
Sunday Mourning Service

My mind has killed me in a thousand different ways but only you could torture me.
Only you know how to tear my heart open with hello and scorch it with goodbye
Mangle my desires and bleed me dry.
Only you could make me believe in snow in July.
For a taste of your love I was prepared to gamble my pride.
Maybe you would have known if my words were not a scramble but you never did try.
My heart has been broken a thousand times but never like this, and for what?
I can't even call you mine.

Surmise too often, likely a sheer redundancy, unduly supposition went south I'd slump it from high.
Curious? I'd throw down the gauntlet; fathom me out throughout the time of hesitation.

i wish to call you mine
not because i want to have you
nor i see you as an object i must own
neither as a possession to wield

i wish to call you mine
because you are mine to cherish,
mine to  care for, mine to think of,
and mine to love.