poem

Are We Home Yet?


You’re the gun
and the bullets
inches away delivering the deepest wounds.
I am wounded, fallen,
and hollowed out by you

Lying with my insides shredded
you believe it was all necessary to keep you sane

I beg you to save me,
if only you could see how deep these wounds run
if only you could prevent them from happening
if only you could truly see me for me
if only you were moved to the same depths by the same things
if only you channeled the same pains and could sit in the dark with me
if only you didn’t see things differently
if only we were emotionally in tune
then I wouldn’t feel shameful for the way I am
then I wouldn’t have to change how my brain works,
how it turns every difference into a negativity instead of opportunity

I beg for sameness, likeness, because that’s home
and I want to go home
fall sleep under the covers
and never wake up
poem

Meeting in Solitude

in a world forced into a hush,
our minds crave words spoken close.

our stories shared across time zones itch,
while inside we scream for release.

idly waiting for the tomorrows
when meetings will be filled with embraces,

we dream of kisses,
and we’ll read each other’s faces

and know exactly what it means,
not filled with frustration from a frozen screen.

we dream of soaking in moments
while delaying the tomorrows even further.

one day soon, we say, we’ll no longer meet in isolation
but gather with our loved ones.

we yearn to linger in the warmth,
the touch, the feeling of being close once again.

*a rewrite from the original poem posted May 2, 2020.