It is hard to notice beauty
when all your eyes see is
midnight and your body aches
like the coldest night of the year —

an embarrassed “I love you” written
in a freshly misted window of
the worst intentions of the soul,
I fade away and resurface when
you warm up to the idea
of loving me again.

I reach for the sun to feel
its warmth in my hands,
the only constant in life because
I can’t remember a time when I
held anything in my fingers
knowing when I’d see it again.


This is for anyone who knows what it feels like to walk in rented bones — to obtain space in someone’s life while they wait for the one they really love to come around again the way winter waits for spring.

To know how it feels to watch the wind blow through ivy covering a building before it gets to you but somehow still feeling the uncomfortable chill across your skin.

To consume half-hearted compliments like candy because it lessens the hunger pains for love that bubble just below the surface of every empty promise.

To finally give up chasing ghosts down alleyways of the soul when you realize it is no way to live, because it is one thing to sing inner demons to sleep at night but it’s another to be willingly devoured by something that was never there.