Everything’s Fine In Print

To the wind that knocked me
out of my bubble,
To the one that finished his
life while he’s still alive,
I hope you do remember me
Not in rubble
but as someone who’ll always
see you as days unnumbered
And infinite.

The world may let you die,
You may let you die
But I will not.
You will forever be alive
in these poems that I’ll
write,
and you’ll be immortalize
in ways that this world
couldn’t,
with days and days to
Look forward to
Even after me.
Even after the world.
That someone,somewhere
13 thousand miles away
Refused to see you
Dead, and
Refused to forget,
You.

Meek Frustration

When can my sheer determination
be able to save you,
from the wreckage brought
to your shore
by the same storms
of life that
taught you flashes of lightning
is good; in dark roads,
in your skin,
the sharp brightness
that throbs your pulse
and blind your eyes,
enough to numb the cold,
enough to cease the horrors
inside of you?

When can my words ever
buoy you to safety,
When can it hold weight?
For you to anchor yourself
safely from the violent
Waves?
How can I show you that
cliffs are not your home,
but somewhere where your
clothes are dry
And your hair’s not soaked
or stained from yesterday’s
rain

It is my eyes that see
Past your ruggedness,
with life’s macabre
handprints all over
your collar,
because it is a choice
To share a compass
to a tear-stained
Soul, like a
lighthouse, pointing
its way to home.