denial

this isn’t

my blood

and these are not

my hands

i want to believe

each mountain

is a quiet river

and that your sickness

was only my

twisted fantasy

but this is

my blood

and these are

my hands

*Published in Déraciné Volume VII

here

this will

be our secret

the busted door

leading to

a darkened hallway

you may have

loved her first

but i

was the one

who found you here

crumpled on the stairs

your head in

my arms and

do you remember

what you confessed

between those

first hitched breaths

*Published in Déraciné Volume VII