Sin Wisdom

Now love scares me Opening up to lovers is my kryptonite Sincerity in the face of romance makes me shrink A sure symptom of brokenness Of pain I wish I still feared baby crabs instead.

There is something so empty about seeing that next to the last message I wrote to you "Read yesterday" makes me feel like we won't have any tomorrows Like what happened between us is in the past I should be comforted with your familiar response, "thank you love" But every time I read it my insecurities build Am I a love to you Or is that just what you say Do you think I'm a lover or am I your lover Somehow "read yesterday" makes you feel distant and estranged from me I want you to be part of my present and my future Seeing that in the past and waiting for what is going to happen in the tomorrow's to come is terrifying I know what awaits me  Your regretful words, "I can't talk to you anymore" An instant sinking, all the preparation in the world can't help me with I know it's coming, but it doesn't make it an easier Thinking what if, and maybe someday should ease that discomfort But it mostly feels empty You read it yesterday, without a thought to what tomorrow holds  Or what it will lack

You're trampling my thoughts less And appearing in my anecdotes more Maybe this is the final stage of grief

Stand in the morning air Let coffee cups gently burn your fingertips Stare at nothing See blue, white, brown Live the complexities of a blooming flower Detox late nights, cigarettes, wine Reminisce friendship and laughter Cleanse your mind Breathe Awaken your lungs You. Are. Here

At the beginning of our relationship I compared you to a carousel I meant to say that you were like reaching for the rings at the carousel Constantly jerking me back and forth That I was reaching desperately for you But I simply said carousel. That first poem Haunts me. It was awful, Probably didn't even make sense My emotions exceeded my ability to write functional verses I don't even have that blue moleskin notebook where I chronicled our first few months If I could read it again I could stop wanting you. I remember the struggle, The tears shed over ink, Re-reading after the first time we broke up Trying to remind myself how we were broken from the start 2 years later It still feels right Despite my efforts to see the wrong. That was the first poem I ever wrote about you. The first poem I ever wrote. I never wrote a poem about being happy with you Every poem came out of frustration and betrayal Heartbreak Titled "Open Your Eyes" and "Broken" and "I Miss You" I wouldn't dare to admit there is one called "Fuck You" Struggles of an untrained writer. Struggles of an untrained lover. I wrongly compared you to a carousel A perfect metaphor for our relationship Ill-conceived, unfulfilled Not fully formed.

I remove my shirt Free my chest from those binds Just to pull the comforter tighter around my body Shielding myself from the flurries of air Feel my warmth reverberated in the blanket I dive under the pillow Feeling safe under the pressure Lifted from the chaos The only time it feels good to be completely Alone I'm exposed, with no one to see me The only way to be.

But, A pinch of word choice, A dash of consonance, A heap of enjambment Maybe you'll glimpse the trembling of my night space

My fingertips will reek of our broken relationship Missed connection. Wishing to convene with you at the doorstep of this menthol Even before its embers burn out I regret it I question my intentions Knowing that I committed this act for you Even if you'll never know. I feel cleansed by the rain, But only until I breathe deep enough to feel the singe of my failure