My toes are itchy.

You are not like

The moon
Is like you

Seasons turn
Within the shift of your bones

You turn in your sleep
An ancient world emerges

In the dream scapes
I build castles alone

I am just a fleeting feeling
Let me pass you by

We never held on to life tightly
Why should we now try

I have been the night
You welcome like a new wave

Now I want to be
Hungrily separate

Now I want to die
Barren and desolate

Now I want my emptiness to repeat
And Tessellate

Now I want to simply



Past midnight
as we lay on our respective beds
Separated by space and time

United by fate and rhyme

Our voices
Were still getting use to the sounds
Of your laughter
Stuck in wind chimes

Suddenly for you
The pillow felt like a lap

I was put on the map.

We made love-smoothies
That tasted like a lunar eclipse

We raced our way to heaven
On your subtle silence, I tripped.

Now it feels..
And that’s a sign

That our feelings

On returning home.

Do you have any Sunday afterthoughts you want to mirror?

He asks me stuff like this. Of course our relationship is of the mind. The best kinds.

I get excited by the empty spaces in music.

He tells me things like this. Of course I am fascinated by him.

Everyone’s so dispersed. I think this would lead to some interesting individuality growth in each one of us.

He discusses ideas that are freshly warm. Taken out of the oven. Placed in my palm.

Of course I am inspired by him.

He wears a t shirt that says
“Your judgement is irrelevant” and then asks me if the t shirt is too small!

Of course I laugh at him
He laughs with me

This is how we spent our Sunday.

In a car.
On a street.

Yellow street light spilled all around us.

And we
Washing our nostalgia
With that light.