If you were to marry,
I’d sit in the crowd,
but not with others amongst the pews.

I’d stand far away -
in the grass with the bugs,
and ponder of me and you.

They’d crawl up my legs,
and I’d scratch at my thighs -
then squeeze gently like you used to do.

Wondering what could have been,
perhaps better if not -
something slick I once thought was glue.

Now you’re not my lover,
a kinship I feel,
but my heart is still beating in blue.

Besides knowing
Everything about me, good and ugly,
She knows how to make cement a feather.
That’s the most invaluable trait
I could hope for in someone I share my soul.
Everyday I hope to be as impactful on her.

I used to
watch short films,
and dream of creating gorgeous
scenes that made people feel
deeper than they’ve ever,
like when I’d medal in a solo
after weeks of crying over sheet music,
but then I felt deeper than I’d ever,
and my brush has since ran dry.
My past passions would likely
return to me with less effort than
it initially took to acquire them,
but I’m unsure if that’s what is
best or I should pivot
into something else.

And tear out a page!
Another! Another!
Some get caught on the binding
**** up the thread!
See the glue on the edges
This is healing my head

You took me by the hand and
Led me straight to your
Heart attack.
There were pages
Everywhere
And I could not tell the difference
Between what you loved and what
Destroyed you

I’ve designed some new rooms,
Since you’ve been gone.
The house has been expanded upon!
Beautiful drapes, and rugs oh so lush,
A chair that is vintage,
Stained glass that’s been blushed.
Relaxing and calm,
It is safe like a hug,
But your room still exists
And the lights always buzz.
The tunes are enough to mask it, some days.
But this homemaker knows it will be there to stay.