The Sun

 If I follow the sun and carry you with me,

will this day never end? 

If I run fast enough, can I stop time,

and feel the warmth of your light forever? 

Personal Hell

I want to hold you but I’m gasping for air.

I can’t breathe because you’re not here.

It’s crushing and true,

and I’m empty. 

Ruins

Living in the wreckage of a house with no walls. 

Playing pretend like children running through the halls,

as they crumble 

and we stumble.

Ignoring the leaks in the roof 

until the storms break, 

and it’s easier to forget 

this persistent ache. 

Purchasing Power

feels like a sweater

but lighter, like lace.

Satin-on-silk luxury wrapped 

around my shoulders

and so much blue.

Comfortable, lavish indulgence

I’ve earned.

Misunderstanding

It’s time to expect her home, 

though I am empty inside.

And sympathy is a balm

you smeared across my pride.

I am not like you.

We will never be the same.

You got to hold them, 

and I never knew their names.

Adult Saturday

I’m carrying a bag of bricks

that I forgot to set down last night.

I dropped it on my toes today,

drinking coffee at first light.

Next week

I’ll repeat

discovery

and recovery.

I Certainly Do

Sometimes the walls, slick and steep,

act as comfort, react, or keep

the darkness sucking like a leech.

Splash a little bit of peach

color on my cheeks.

And if I seem meek

from the weight of a breach

blame it on my short reach.