"Us" is a short poetry collection united by its distinct but interrelated premises, focusing on the complexities of relationships.

Home

Our bodies entwine like inosculated oaks,

as we reminisce of that old, verdant scene.

Once fled in an abhorrence of the mundane;

we now relish it from our shattered pipe-dream.

Youthful naivety obscured what would become of us,

as we chased our passions through dirty streets.

Not knowing we would lose sight of them,

between the throngs of callow dreamers.

But we have made these mistakes;

and must live the lives we have shaped.

Through we drudge around, like captive strays,

mauling at our concrete walls, to no avail.

We do have moments of peace,

when we recall the joys of what we had known.

And for a moment, contentment rises within us,

because at least in regret, we are not alone.

To Rot Away

I was a sapling, delicate and slight;

nourished by claret rivers, and effulgent eyes.

Baring feeble limbs and arid bark,

I tried to woe the essence of my life.

Unaware that I was but a paltry twig—

unnoticed in a boundless wood.

Overshadowed by oaks and sweetgums,

Destined to fall long before I rose.

When I did, with the year first snow,

meager wood rotting in the soil—

I made space for more the pertinent;

for those worthy of such life.

Passed

With the morning sun came with rattles of death,

and violet-tinted lips, quivering which each breath.

Reached for hands, but there I found only gelid stone;

so agonizingly unlike the warm touch, I had known.

Once I might have sought solace in Revelation--

but now all the passages tell is my own damnation.

The wretched existence destined to befall me,

upon your disappearance into that infinite, ebony.

But, despite this, I do not want you to remain,

It is futile now--any prolonging inhumane.

So I pray each tortured gasp be your last;

despite my agony, yours will have passed.

Had We Hatched From Seagull Shells

Had we hatched from the eggs of seagulls,

our lives would be spent along the shore;

diving through waves, caressing the air,

and plucking our meals from the sand.

Had we burst from a cherry blossom tree,

we would spend our days dancing in the breeze;

catching the eyes of all who passed,

with the wave of our painted petals.

But I fear we did not hatch from the eggs of seagulls,

or burst from the bark of a cherry blossom tree;

Rather, we came into the world as we are,

and life cannot be lived so simply.