We both know the ending. I won't find you nor will you find me.
Tag: You
Stripped
Now you lay here alone. Aged by bad habits fueled by your lack of self worth... Stripped of your youth with those gaunt cheeks and sunken eyes... Stunningly jaundice and contently reeking of your own filth. Yet you regret nothing... And still disapprove of everyone and everything life ever offers you.
Hide-And-Seek
It's like a version of hide-and-seek... But we're not children... And there's no known rules... Or foreseeable end in sight. Because the person who's been doing all the searching... Is the same one still waiting to be found.
2019
Summer 2019 is unforgettable to me... in Minneapolis where I always felt free. Friends with scooters and spilt milkshakes... tobacco shops and drunken mistakes. Uber drives in new-scented cars... with unlikely dives at classy gay bars. Cigarette butts and cold windy nights... hotel keys and blurred city lights. Crooked smiles and shitty leftovers... With a pancake house that fixed the hangovers.
Infused
Those are alcohol infused words mixed with emotionally confused verbs. Nothing more... And nothing less.
For You
No thoughts. No prayers. No hope. No remorse.
Obsolete
My thoughts are stagnant and my words obsolete. My expressions are ignored and my strengths muted. My feelings are degraded and my emotions gaslighted. And my worth... Completely meaningless to you. But as soon as that whiskey sits in your hand... And you take a couple swigs... It's interesting how fast my worthlessness to you can never be recalled.
The Takedown
I look back and remember how carefully I placed all these photographs in these cheap Tjmaxx frames... Three pristine prints in complete symmetry. The glass left free of hairs... stubborn dust... and fingerprint smears... Hanging in perfect unison. But now... Now I can't even look at them long enough to take them down.
Daylight
Daylight comes and casts that soft glow through my blinds... And there you are... Coming into focus like a picture developing... Perfectly silhouetted... And entirely mine.
Trace
Let your fingers fall upon my face and trace your way along my cheekbone...
AO Poetry 
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