white lilacs

white lilacs smell so sweet in the evening

on a long walk home in the dark all alone

and I live for these nights that slowly expand

to fill my eyes full of summer stars but

they always will remind me of falling in love

because her father was a florist and he died too young

so now she paints roses on her skin because

she misses how her house was once full of flowers

because the care he put into his orchids spilled over

he watered her daily, until he could do no more

yet she blossomed so beautifully and quietly into

the rose bush that weaves along the insides of my rib cage

and it’s such a beautiful sight to see but I still

feel the thorns cut at the lungs in my chest when

I sing all the sad songs that once helped me breathe

but she smells so sweet on these quiet May evenings

just like the white lilacs in bloom, caressing the streets

in much the same way I’m caressing her cheek

and I still feel the thorns leaving scars in my heartbeat

she’s the arrhythmia killing me slowly if only

because I’d much rather die with her flowers inside me

than watch them wither away in a vase that won’t keep her happy

wanderer

what a beautiful day.

I mean, I’m treading water in a tempered ocean of

solitary contemplation, wondering if the shorelines

that appear misty and inviting on the horizon are

utopias or just more desert islands where I will

end up feeling even more alone than I do now.

at least here on the open sea I can count the waves

and feel the rhythm of the tide carry me onward.

from here the sun is an indication of direction instead of time

and more than anything I need a compass not a clock

to measure my distance between my lack of location

and the ivy-covered brick walls of the home I so dearly miss.

but my, what a beautiful day it is to be

a thoughtful wanderer, pleasantly lost in the moment.

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

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.

Glow

A gentle daylight peeks through the curtain
A shimmering gold painting your paper skin
That glows in the dark of the cabin we’re in
Like fireflies dancing, again and again.
You’re peaceful as ever and beautiful as always
We’ll wander the floors and search through the hallways
And dance on the deck while it moves with the waves
Rocking relentlessly, day after glorious day.

to mean nothing, everything

when I said that you were beautiful, I meant it
and it made me know that I had never truly
meant anything before in my entire life

when I told you that my heart was yours, I meant it
and I felt in that vulnerability a freedom that
was like flying, untethered and unabashedly carefree

when I asked you not to leave, I meant it
and it was in my pleading that my heart imploded
leaving my blood to evaporate, turned to steam from my anger

when I said that you meant everything to me, I meant it
but you never meant a damn thing you said.

youth.

her love makes me feel like a child again
like two cups, connected with string at both ends
we find joy in the streets on a long summer day
and we dance in the rain, wash our problems away.

she is the promise of freedom that comes with July
and the grass stains on blue jeans, that look in her eye
gives me jitters like Christmas Day, running downstairs
to find presents abounding, abandon all of my cares.

I’m convinced that the fountain of youth is her smile
and that her laugh can help anyone breathe for a while
I only wish she could know how the tip of her tongue
forms the words that envelop me, make me feel young.