10:41 P.M.

It’s a great night outside.

I start looking at the stars,
smell the rawness
of air, as it crawls on
your estranged face.
my head feels slow,
a creature time-traveling through space.


my eyes breathe
at their will, keeping my
hopes alive.

I am all lost,
into the nothingness of your existence.

I start hacking up the death
and you say,

“What the fuck?”


I die a little more.


cold shivered deep in my bones
you also got a hang of it,
your ears turned red.

I always thought how the chill
that numbed our faces
was a different temperature to both of us;
you felt winter in the dawn of spring.

lately you’ve been sharing it,
without slicing the knife
through the air of silence,
making your core warm like summer.

Your reflection in the rainy puddles is just as distorted as
your way of thinking.