Some days
we pretend that
everything
is alright
and that
time
has moved on.

But another year
has passed
by me
like sand
in
the hourglass
and
I am tormented
by a guilt
and the
nightmares
that
you
are never
coming
back.

- It  is
so easy
to feign
some semblance
of normalcy

-It is the
admission
that
our lives
are
so vastly
split
apart
with the loss
of you.

Home

Memories 

begin 

to 

fade

into a foggy

recollection

of

a time

or 

place.

To be open

and 

honest

I don't even 

remember 

what it took

for me

to 

get here.

The only peace I know

is the feeling

of his heartbeat 

as I rest my head

upon his chest

and the day 

fades to night.

-

The only peace I know

are the moments 

with family

in which 

we fall 

back into

our roles

and 

life

seems to go back 

to normal

the tape has been rewound 

The early mornings

on the road

The late nights

being tucked in

The stories read

The stories told

The scrapes

and the bruises

The loved

and the lost

I could go on 

forever.

The only peace 

I know

are the moments

in which 

I feel

like

I am 

back 

home. 

It is morning.
I can tell
because
there is a
faint light
fading through
the darkness
and
you're not here.

Because
when I looked into
his eyes
there was a pain
that he couldn't seem to hide

A pain
that
resided
within him
despite
the waning time.

And it was in his eyes
that I fell
apart.

And as I sat upon
the
edge
of
the world

I thought
back to
every moment
we ever shared
-the good
-the bad
-and the awkward in between.

The years
left us
with little
but love
and
even that
had worn
thin.

But
it occurred
to me
in a fleeting
thought
that
you never
showed me
your darkness.

We were
so caught up
in living out
the good times
that
I let it slip
right by
the wayside.

And
as I sat there
on the
very edge
of the world

it occurred to me
that
this was
the end.

Begin Again

Stop.

Breathe.

-

Stop.

-

Begin.

Again.

-

Let me ask 

you a 

question:

What is 

your truth? 

And how 

did you come 

to find it?

-

Relax.

Breathe.

Answer me.

-

Stop.

-

Begin. Again.

-

Let us explore 

something else:

Where does 

your reality end

and

where does 

mine begin?

And

What are 

their differences?

-

You

look

perplexed.

Shall I repeat?

No.

-

Begin again.

-

Final question 

for now:

Tell me-

Who are you?

Not your name.

Your character.

Your soul.

Your eternal being.

And what do you crave?

-

Stop.

The Monotony of Enough

The days were monotonous-
but he lived through them
anyway.

Each action-
waking,
rising,
brushing his teeth,
showering,
dressing,
drinking that
shitty cup of coffee
that he needed
to get him through his repetitive day
of fixing everyone else's problems
while no one cared to listen
to his
but he told himself he found
joy and peace in it all
and so he was okay.

He was
okay.

He
was
oh-

Sometimes he just
wanted to scream
to tear at his hair
and cry
and ask god
or anyone
why is this was happening to him?

-kay.

And yeah
he had a good life-
a place to call home
a reputable job
and a wife who
made him feel like he was
her world.

but when the day
faded to night
and she turned over in bed
-his fingers running through her smooth hair
-lightly caressing her soft skin
he couldn't help but wonder
if there was anything else
he could do to make ends meet
to build something
out of nothing
but
My god
there is nothing
utterly nothing
left
and nowhere left to go.

and so he lays in a quiet
disbelief
wondering
if it will always be like this
as she sleeps peacefully by his side.

Defeated
but alive
and for now
that had to be enough.

It just has to be
enough.