Love Lost In A Fire

Where are you now,
but tinder and smoke.

Forty floors of orange,
and the ash of the earth.

Love lost in a fire,
long beneath the crust.

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In Gardens

Not all that follows are ghosts. We live clumsily among the garden of our past, and though we move, fatefully forward, any seconds stumble sends us back. That song, alive, the sound of longing now, the sound of laughter so. Smiles stretching back, tears we’re holding back, a love for reaching back. Forever is only times we’ve strung together.

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Starry Spaces

I’ve sat in circles, in the center of the room with faces flush for conversation in a way I’ve always known. The walls have ways of fading, the faces all grow faceless. Their words yet spilling where their formless mouths believe, in these rooms I’ve all but left, watch my starry eyes recede. I’ve gone to all the spaces, to find the in-between.

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Little Lives, Little Rooms

All my life we’ve kept our lives in small concealed compartments,
in hiding spots in little rooms, our little home in separate boxes.
We stole our eyes and left the rest, and small talk now survives.
Please forgive my faulted faith, I’ve lived so long alone outside.

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Worst Case Parade

no matter how many times you tell yourself “everything is ok”
the unsettling edges of overthinking parade
and with every worst-case scenario, your breath has run away

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A Magnetic Truth

On Magnetic North. On a definitively relative term, as “North” points in all directions for all people. The term “magnetic” then is only a claim for the feeling of being pointed in the right direction. In life, North is a sign of derivative progress and comfort. North is up, forward, home, and in that vein, magnetic. My own North shifts constantly and is satisfied by many ventures, many methods, many feelings, fleeting or otherwise. Life will pull, relentlessly, in every direction, at every whim you claim with the wind. As home, as the stars, North will comfort and confide, reminisce in all your wildest times, reassure that home is always home, the light is always on, and in any place you can hold that heart, finite and forever. North is progress, and as you move forward in life, as opposed to the inevitable lateral shifts (and you will), the feeling is always up, the top of the compass, and in times it happens that is only yours. Every step you take is only significant to you, and in turn, North only determined by the impact that any movement has on your being and the reflection of a less-filtered, more refined, inherently resolved self. In such, East and West can be North. As any lateral change, be it drastic, defiant, curious, may define itself as a catalyst and the present redefined by the past. Hence a previously lateral move becomes the necessary North. At heart, there are persons that bleed magnetic, the sanguine steps of their lives are always only North; while some of us will stumble, some will stay forever, that magnetic truth is met in all directions.

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Quiet House, Silent Home

Make the same mistakes in finite steps to breaking your own heart. Break. Reprise. Break. Repeat. And only break until you’re no longer left, and all you had to give is lost to lust and wasted in fleeting fucking smiles and double taps until that lurking fear you like to think can’t happen does and the only thing that is left is lonely. The only one to share it with is you, and any brief encounter in whatever hour your life brings home. Your quiet house, your silent home will fill with lyrics of only your favorite sad songs in remeniscence of all the lives you crossed and times you couldn’t commit and all the second chances you had and left for loss, always believing they were better off, better faired, when all along you were always scared.

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