Tonight, I found myself in a rainstorm that was...
its chest roaring with wounds inflicted upon...

I am drafted to your scent,
far past dusk's arrival...

You became my high, my up when I
wanted to dig myself a grave and tie...

I thought this poem would be about me,
typed up in a gloomy room where moonlight...

Your aura lights the black bottom of the ocean,
fills the hungriest hearts, reflects the beauty...

You never walked out.
I walked out on myself...

Mis alas,
escuches...

He is the lily
enfolding me in lips...

Scratched walls resemble the ocean
once tainted by a monsoon...

they condemn us with bibles
pictures of fiery pits...

It's like I'm drifting,
you don't even pass me by...

We pass each other handfuls of kettle corn
with nothing short of empathy...