This is disgracefully romantic — Yes, more and more you may sense my desire, and clearly I have no reproaches on the matter, but forgive me you must for bringing this up first. I believe what you have sensed is actually what you are— a muse yes, and too late to leave. Are you…

Thank you for returning it — The love that I gave you has been returned to me in a crumpled envelope, betraying signs of being ripped open then carelessly closed once the recipient uncovered the magnitude of its content — “too hot to handle”, though the feelings within it were measured in carefully crafted expression. …

Souls soar to meet in the infinite — Will it ever end? you ask me, in the ether, as our weary souls contemplate the scission of our selves in the physical once more. Will it ever end? this, your formless entity transmits from your terrestrial self— less a question but a plea to end the stasis of suffering…

Lovers on a pedestal — I burnt your hand with residues of nicotine; you clogged my brain with climates of melancholy— therefore, I can safely say that you need a eulogy from me. You hide but maybe you don’t and only I believe this fence of yours to be fabricated, though merely by my own…

The story has already begun — “Light a candle”—I type quietly searching for the keys to write lovewords with in the blackened room as I find your body in the dark. I have seen you—the images of you and your trust for me. …

A restorative liminal space — All the words that embroidered my verse with mechanical solutions— soothing convulsions that fed kindly the thrilling spell of elocution— have evaporated. You studied them all hence never will forget, but betrayals turn our love to a defect— these foreign smiles were but the test that our faith had promised…

A poem of grief and fury — My wail is a turn from inside, a serendipitous coup d’état that vanquishes the limits of purgatory fancies. When my fears wish to ride the waves of putrid incandescence, they only swerve its might towards sense demolition. Only once I thought that if I jump, I’ll get caught— and when the…

I am basking in your silence — Today it got ultra violet seared pink skin damage apart, I hate reliance. A long night tonight but cooler—ant formations on the quiet windowsill. Dammit, I hate reliance. Tomorrow’s intoxicants will rise anew, and a little more reliant on you. You are no groupie, you are smarter than all of…

A carnival craving — We are pure sound, not perpetuated on the walls, upon pastures, open and defaulted to manifestos, in the countryside of yore, which we grew upon and shat our souls. We are the smoke of our territories’ conduct and the simulacrum screen of all the velvet queens whom we adore without measure or…

A desire yearning for embodiment — threw my shirt on the floor ripped off my socks padding around cool tiles in oppressive heat — you know what I look like. here for you, mistress. for you, I’m an always yes. my jeans today look like the ones you wore in dusty magic hour as we slumbered close —…

Help me breathe clear my love — Never have I encountered one as you are, who urges me to create quiet prayers day after day, so ferocious you are, and yet so still, quiet, giving the play time to develop into a slow-burning drama, and of consequence, I care not. Whether we shall spend real-time, time in…

The first time I heard your voice — the beginning of this correspondence is like a play with so many killer lines. but don’t let my voice leave you. strange— the most intimate moments we have shared and only now have spoken to each other. you swore on the phone and I smiled so wide. my swearing…

When distance becomes unbearable — I’m living dangerously these days as I convert my habits to reflect the particularities of your land— the fields I’ll live in soon, closer to you, forging my own path, reclaiming the parts of me left dormant by years of comfort. As you testify to my increasing presence in…

I see you, but I can’t hear you — I rush past you as I exit the powder room, head down—I knew you were waiting, wishing you didn’t know me after years of silence that followed those fervent and frank exchanges of virtual intimacy. You stand at the door, inflexible, defiant; me, suddenly coy, too scared to engage…