Felt — A Poem on Emotional Aftermath

Time stood still for nary a soul,                    
it dragged its feet, aching and old. 
Blistering heat that made us melt, 
we were once softer than silk felt.

Hallowed hearts wind whistled through,
covered in bruises, black and blue.
Hardly broken, but maybe bent,
running on empty and love spent.

There comes a day in all our lives,
when our failures cut deep as knives.
But you shall remain a triumph,
you stayed with me, like a science.

Words were whispered, curses, we'd shout,
until the blood drained from our mouths.
Yesterday—softer than silk felt;
seems like all we do these days is yell.

Outer Space — A Poem on Distance, Dating, and Emotional Drift

Even in deep space,

your love holds me down,

Your embrace has weight,

and keeps me coming, back around

I was on track to be a tragedy,

before we collided, like stars

You give me gold, you give me gravity,

and it's more than fancy cars

I was a lonely planet on my own

Now you are the sun to my moon

I orbit you and feel at home.

I was in ruins, but I'm brand new.

No distance between us,

could break us, or tear us

apart.

Not miles, or minutes,

not even lightyears would be

too far for my arms.

You light up my galaxy,

our universe exists inside

my heart.

Closer than the others,

if I'm Earth, then you are my Mars.

You keep me human, keep me golden,

keep me green, and grounded.

Give me freedom, give me healing,

eclipse me, leave me astounded.

Celestially, you are the best for me,

I rest my chemistry, and let you

undress me.

Effortlessly, you impress me,

effervescent, I'm obsessing.

Astro know me, come explore me,

Supernova, satisfy my

celestial body, cosmo comet,

asteroid shower, like meteorites,

I stargaze, and you give me power.

immaturity— A Poem About Early Self-Awarenesss

You, 

made me believe
that maybe we could achieve 

some picture-perfect peace
to relieve, release; to ease
our anxieties, undeniably
the parts of us that were diseased
our tormented entirety,
oh how it reeks, this irony
that maybe we could be free
too blind to see

there was no vacancy
no vacancy for emotions that
had no agency, amazingly
abrasively, we returned to
being strangers in the streets
like two opposing ships at sea
the beasts but not the bees
like ghosts who would not grieve,
the gifts that we received,
that day that we, conceived
this wicked web we weaved.
a melodramatic make-believe.
how prepubescent
juvenile, infantile,
without blessing,
the next best thing.
Inexpressive, undeniable
inattentive, unreliable,
wreaking havoc through
speaking words so viable.