#relationshippoems

I.

I turned your voice into a seashell for the last distant echo, farther here I searched for us within all of the alternate parallel closer aways I have loved you through too many sometimes...

II.

he has no clue how to kiss me but the newest-new guy can’t stop smiling,

is it contagious

enough

to catch me?

his lips on mine tick 10pm in the basement and I can’t remember if I forget what your mid-kiss laugh tastes like

III.

I want to make peace with our magentas and ultraviolets the colors while lingering on the edge of misery

only two people this insane

would

actually see, the psychotic goose-loops we went on to chase more

loose ends, the beauty as we flat-lined through mid-air for five years but still haven’t fallen out of anywhere I can’t forgive how your lips on mine

struck

midnight

at

the...

IV.

the newest-new guy looks into my eyes and

intentionally pauses

but

the

clock

has

lost

her

whimsy...

she lays herself down

on a lime-green couch

in this

exact

literal

minute,

this

present

plane of existence

and

un-figuratively

sinks

down

into

the

comfy

cushions

I

wonder,

what

time

is

it?

V.

it was just so different

back

then,

you

holding

my skeleton

hand...

no

need

to

breathe

an

eternal

lallygag

strolling

along

dawdling

about

moseying-on

through

a

dilly-

dally

of

our

last

moment...

(I just can’t say the word meadow again.)

VI.

the rippling distant echo

of your strike

dying

down...

and

he has no clue

how to kiss me

but

I can taste

this newest-new

guy’s

smile

at 10pm in the basement

as our clumsy

mid-kiss-teeth

clang

the next

tick

after

your

midnight’s

I.

this morning a really cute zombie fed me breakfast in bed

but maybe that’s just an obscure South African sex ritual or maybe the word “girlfriend”

really means “side-hoe” in Swahili...

he also speaks Italian, French, and better Spanish than me and my mom was born in Venezuela, there’s gotta be a huge mistake in his translation because last night he even made me dinner and we didn’t actually have sex...

like,

at all (we should both learn German or Russian and yell at each other from across the room “YOU WANT TO FUCK?” and after I’ll make him sleep on the couch... just to keep it 100)

II.

the word “love”

in Urdu

translates to

apparently,

after circling the world

for 80 infinities

it plateaus,

because

all I found

was a flat-edge

where

you are the moon on my horizon

I’ve looked for you

inside all of the eternities

within each alternate dimension

of the parallel universes

where

you are forgiven

and

I think I’d rather just stay angry

you mean too fucking much to me.

how many times can I be

stood up

within my own fantasy

(meet me at the meadow)

before I leave you there?

III.

Dear Hassaan,

I’ve written you endless letters

under my pen-names

like

The Moon Escaped the Sky

Wildfire

Where Time Begins

Circles

Hello

and

Goodbye

and I wish this could be the last

but

I know it won’t.

Love,

When truth illuminates, shadows disappear. A guiding light that makes everything clear. To trust and fall in a mighty love requires fearless faith, and red hot courage. For, hearts to take flight with sincere unconditional love is rare. To navigate this journey, wise minds employ, seeking understanding and embracing each other’s joy. Discernment becomes the compass, boundaries gently set.…