top of page


red flags don't warn me because they feel like home

on the day he left town, I unironically completed reading a book about attachment

(he doesn't live here anymore)

he who taught me I was lovable,

that pleasure between two souls was sacred

he who gently held my broken foot in his hand because he knew touch would soothe me;

my life's greatest love, adventure buddy, beloved friend

the person I called from an ambulance while my head was bleeding, salted adrenaline frantically streaming down my face/ at the hospital later that day, the emergency doctor asked him to stay with me for 24 hours, so he stayed 36 

in a heartbroken news article, the headline reads, "371 Triggers Lined Stepping Stones Leading Them To Their Gravesite"

my sob sessions ebb and flow like the moon/ so he doesn’t have to feel despair,

he cracks inappropriate jokes that burn like the sun


rest in peace us

with ferocity, we endeavored to stay alive and died kinetic anyways,

drowned in the inkyblack tar & plasma of the other

when I wrote this poem,

mourning hymns soundtracked burning incense splayed in 7 directions 

                (homage to our chaos)

in a wave of grief, I changed my sheets to rid my bed of him, but the clean set had a stain from the oil we used as lubrication so I left a corner untucked in protest

(how do I touch my body without remembering his)

he is everywhere and nowhere:

intricately enmeshed into my all/neglecting all my needs/

a blackhole; 

                  (starless galaxy)

the night before he left town, we sat on my step for an hour and watched the sunset/ we managed to share the only kind conversation in weeks/ before leaving, he kissed me and asked if he could take me with him/ at the time, I wished I could have said yes

(this stanza is documentation in case I never see him again)

now that we’re done and he's gone, do I evolve into someone he doesn't know, until he doesn't know me at all? or do I hold onto silky thin hope that we will one day I don't know when figure out how to do the damn thing

(heartache swells & crests when two people that love each other don't know how)

will that hope quicksand or bloom

will my essence disentangle and replenish

will this cosmic void in my orbit become just a place his star lives?

will he stay luminous or fade into gravity

will he be okay? please God, I hope he'll be okay

will I forgive myself for where I’ve come from

will I discover wholeheartedness?

overcome by weighted solace until seeds of whatever is to come burst open with incandescence that somehow comes from me? 

elizabeth ann
bottom of page