This was the way it ended: not with fire, But carried quietly under sleep-beds,

So go in peace, be free, be kind.

I cannot tell you that I want to be intoxicated, inebriated, and stashed away for the rest of eternity while holding your hand at the mediocre fair in the middle of the crowd of ill-mannered school-children who grew up too soon

It said, 'You've brought a return ticket with you friend / Remember, people are not meant to be held onto.'

The moon is a cheeseball,  Cratered, yellow, and huge like your eyeballs 

Moving mindlessly and / Etching every alley along the way / With verses devoted to you

A quiet, seniority in its touch, / A tenderness that feels like it's meant to last

You thought you had escaped, didn't you? / Outran everything that weighed you down

Sometimes at early dawn / You overpower my eyelids / And won’t let me wake up

Who do I tell, sir? The walls do not listen, The roads do not answer back

When moon fades into dawn and when I pass away with it / Will you think of all that I was?

1 and 3/4 cups of sugar, 2 cups of i-love-you

It is enough— Enough to be here, Beneath the bulb of a wonton shop.

I know of my feeble frame of its graying at the edges.

migratory animal Are you looking for a home?

I fell asleep to the chatters of cicadas on a quiet summer night

"That’s why I have jars of jealousy, anger, sadness, monotony, but this – it’s important."

I will not even begin with the skies

When Anne Carson said– All lovers believe they are inventing love, she was perhaps right

I carry them openly in these calloused hands and hold them out to you could you tell me I'm worthy of love