letters from march

 -

you met me at a very curious place of my mind.

you met me in the deepest smells of my cave.

dark was my time. 

red were your thoughts. 

people who we ate came willingly

like fruit falls off with surrender.

mushrooms were our skin,

easily touched, easily removed. 

cotton was our lungs,

puff and coke.

silk was our veins,

delicate. delicious.

and honey.. oh honey..

patron saint of our lair

was demon of youth.

he was fair.

set us loose

with abuse

and care.

we ate and drank and hid from snow.

we were papers, unstained

with taste of metal and gunpowder.

-

This is where we keep the secrets.

This is where we keep the moan.

This is where we keep the chaos.

This is where we keep the light.

This is where we keep the though.

This is where all sounds end.

-

I changed the color of my room.
I wanted to welcome sadness

with wine.

-

With you and I 

It’s never about happy endings

It’s the happy moments that count. 

-

you were so young.

i was so old.

we had to kill each other again and again

so we could be born closer in time.

but then space kept expanding.

and it took me longer and longer to find you.

-

i will keep my room empty

if you ever decide to come back.

-

tree spirits came to life 

as march folded its wings

and seeded into aprilian honey.

air was like porcelain.

my finger tips were glass

lining your back with branches of blood

and sugar.

your taste was my smell.

-

if green had another name

it would have been ‘thodéh’.

-

your coffee mug was lonely

so I put a cactus in it.