the long walk home.

every unfamiliar road I’ve ever walked has led me to you
and every bleak mile I’ve walked was a triumph to me
because with every single step I drew closer to your arms
to the one and only place that has ever felt like home to me

and your kiss still tastes the same a year and some days later
your hands still run down my neck the way they did before
and despite the distance and the disenchantment I endured
your warmth is still persistent in cutting through my clouds

because everything has changed and yet our us is still the same
like kids in love, with devoted eyes and honest lips
and the world still slips away and melts around us
encasing us in the euphoria and beautiful nothing that is love

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Photographs

Your voice was the rain against the ground outside the open window
Seeping into the dirt and quenching the thirst of a year’s worth of winter.
I could hear your laugh in the pitter patter on the pavement and
It beckoned me back to the better days that I cling to so desperately
Because it was your love that filled my heart with these muted photographs
That I keep in their own cardboard box, hidden but left wide open.
I find myself going through them almost every single day, lingering
On the ones where you’re hiding from the camera, shying away
Because in a sense it’s a gift that you gave to me unknowingly
For only I know how beautiful that portrait was a split second before
And you left me that memory to be cherished uniquely, selfishly
But it’s all I can do some days not to stare at them blankly
Wondering where in the world I let all of those moments become
Nothing more than a collection of blurry, off-centre photographs
That I have subsisted on ever since we went our separate ways.

green lights

…all the lights were green in my favour
so I walked across town, not once breaking stride
crossing city streets like fingertips over piano keys
I was unhindered, as the wind might stop for nothing
and the lights were green for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles…
… it’s that same wind that brushes my face
that brings me back to the rainy days in love
spent wrapped up in cold air and clean sheets
kissing each other as if it would kill us to stop
and the lights were green for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles…
…and it’s that green that lingers on my mind like the smell of smoke
from the wildfire that has engulfed my chest for 751 days and counting
it’s the green on the trees in the adolescent spring
and those jade-coloured gems that I cherish still
but most importantly I know that green means go
and the lights are green for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles…
and so I’ll go.

brown grass

I empathize with the tufts of brown grass
emerging triumphantly from their glacial graves
in patches of morosity across these suburban streets
caught between the possibilities of death and rebirth
a testament to the idea of life after living and that
all we know is cyclical and nothing is forever
that the pressure and the cold will not endure
and that eventually the sunshine will cut the ice
to revitalize the fields, bring back the dandelion days
but not everything in this world can be evergreen
and I’ve finally learned that I am no exception.

bereft

pressed to the glass of the chamber, you left

my love in a vacuum, gasping for air and bereft

of the oxygen needed to keep the fire in my eyes burning

now just afflicted with a gnawing hunger, a yearning

because my heart still trembles when I think of you

and to not fall apart is about all I can do.