when u come to me

you come to me occasionally

like a breeze, billowing around me

visiting my details-

gingerly rolling over me

a cool wind to ease the toil 

but tempt the fates.

gone as quickly as the moment 

yet carried heavily in memory

forever branded on the mind

until the northern fronts conjure-

a mighty wind.

that like me, 

is dissipating rapidly

until its only a gust  

and finally a simple breeze

that comes to me occasionally. 

Things left unsaid.

‘I want you.’ I said.
A rush of heat swept across my cheeks.
Tenderly embarrassed,
I lowered my head.

‘I just…’ he replied.
I felt the pause- awkward
I knew its cause.
‘I understand were only friends’’
Defeated, I lied.

‘I was just thinking about you.’
Is all I can say.
Mandatory to conceal:
You are my every day.
Too proud to bend, too enamored to break
I keep caring for caring’s sake…

‘I didn’t mean to call you.’
But I had a glass of wine
Still I could not think of a vintage as sweet
As the fermentation between you and I.

‘You should come and visit.’
Eager, I bite my lip.
It’s the best I can do
It’s the only truth I dare imbue
When you are still a part of him
And I (preternaturally),
Am a part of you.

In hopes of a breakthrough

I am writing in hopes of a breakthrough

a moment of clarity strong enough

to birth my pulse.

With everyday a brother to the next

I do not feel akin to this life

and I am left with the unfamiliar.

foreign to me

love&hate

joy&grief

Pride&shame

all foreign to me.

Nothing

I feel no thing

but I live through it all.

How do I live through it all?

Even Veronika decided to die

In hopes of her breakthrough.

I go to work everyday

I am productive

I am a writer

I am flirty

I am a good son.

I am No one.

a satellite receiving static-

the blues of my everyday.

But I look forward to my breakthrough

when emotion will flood stoic eyes

with tears of joy or pain-

Just feel something, anything!

Instead I float lazily on the sea

driftwood where my passion should be

what's a fucking breakthrough?

It is all in vain,

I am but billowing organdy drapes

composed only of the breeze.