An Optimistic Stanza

I am a better poet the less I indulge in chicken soup for the soul

Or maybe the indulgence is that I imagine myself so darkly

I am my own creation
A stanza
Read a loud

Are similes and metaphors enough?

Do adjectives adequately explain?

That these days are sweeter than honey
More comforting than the sunrise

I am no longer scared of who I am
I am increasingly curious about who I will become

Every evening in the dusk I breathe deeply and sigh
It’s like I have forgotten how to lose my smile

In answers
Geographical and otherwise

If I have not been clever I have been lucky

The words are so pale compared to the Technicolor reality

I would paint the sky with those colors if I had that talent
If I had that energy

I am at a loss
How to create without friction

This is my first time
Hopeful and terribly happy

Other Questions for the Dead

I can’t comprehend never

I can’t fathom that days just go on
That blue skies turn black
And time is endless

Endless?

There is an ocean of agnostic nothingness between us

And I am to bear forever?

I whisper tiredly
My voice ragged with emotion

How could you do this?

I want to ask if you miss me and be disappointed no matter what the answer

I need to know if you still play hide and seek?

And can I know
If you are loved?

Does it compare to this love that is behind you?
Love that makes my heart beat wrong
Love that slides down my cheeks
Love that now feels like a crushing weight in my chest

Answer me?

This is just like the night as you were dying

Questions, questions

Answers esoteric if at all

And the things I wanted to ask haunt me like shadows in a mirror

Can you stay?

Will I smile the same?

Did you know I loved you more than snow and ice?

Was my hand in yours enough?

Can I come with you?

Questions I just live with in my bones
With this infinity symbol that is never
Slowly snapping my spine