Poetry

I ache to whisper the fullness of my heart, but can’t decode it swift enough to speak. It’s a foreign language.

But, here and now, I remember everything! My life seems abstract and surreal, but I am seeing it and hearing your words.

There is no elixir of life—no poultice or potion—that can compare to the rejuvenation of your love.

The smoke doesn’t choke me anymore. I took the hell you made for me and made it home…

I see the faces of the ones who do not complain. I stand, godlike, determining their fate. Civilization awaits my decision.

Cardamom cloves. Poured into mismatched cup and steel glasses. Sipped over gossip and a twin-tailed mermaid.

fat weighs less than depression, but has greater volume, filling the space between id and ego, a gelatinous buffer against world.

Don’t mention my divorce or deferred adolescence but apologize
for the times I was a lousy parent.