Reverb

Separate from the shit at hand, know this:

There is no great escape at the end of your tunnel,
no immortal exit awaiting at the end of the journey.

There are sequential actions that come back around,
neither immediate nor temporary, they will creep,
they will bide their time until the moment calls,
when their dormancy ends and they activate,
and they will strike you in bright daylight,
and cut you open as mercilessly as you have done to others,
to me.

I cycle through what I cannot see,
left to piece together a puzzle that will not click,
it will not snap into place,
as life does not compartmentalize so easily,
and I am left broken.

Defeated by more than my worst enemy,
played for dead by a ghost I cannot see,
a grim reaper who has taken everything from me.

Yet, there are ways to come out from downstairs,
so many ways that I’m privvy to and you are not.
You will be marked.

Perfect Heaven Space

In my perfect heaven space, there’s a picture of you.
To think of all the time I’ve wasted not looking at you.
Answering the questions before it’s been asked.
The answer is in the question I hope you don’t ask.

In my perfect heaven space, there’s an answer for you.
And on my heart I wear a sleeve that you knitted for me,
and you just wanna pull that thread and unravel me,
answering the question before it’s been asked.
The answer is in the question I hope you don’t ask.
On my heart I wear a sleeve that you knitted for me.

In my perfect heaven space, there’s a memory of you.
To think of all the ghosts I’ve faced just remembering you.
Answering the question before it’s been asked.
The answers in the question I hope you don’t ask.

In my perfect heaven space, there’s an answer for you.

Perfect Heaven Space
Travis

Refitting

Perhaps one day, I’ll see things for what they are.

Neither past nor future will hinder this perspective.

My purview will be unaltered and unfiltered, near pristine in purity.

No longer will I see beyond reality and into the world of dreams.

Life has a way of reinforcing the perils and tribulations of this disposition.

These dreams, they haunt me by daylight,

rendering me irrational and insensible where convention is concerned.

I justify notions that would otherwise be deemed mad.

And yet, I defend this state of intention,

because to leave this place would mean that I’m one-dimensional,

no more than the rest of the singular mass.

I’ll stay here in between states of consciousness,

if it means a love that will nurture and protect.

Lustrous

I see you as the expanse between us shrinks and expands.
A definitive figure with broad features sharpened over many years,
certain in your heaviness of existence,
a solid mass of being residing in the shadow of moonlight,
deliberately concealed in the comfort of that immeasurable darkness,
a wish to be stumbled upon anywhere but under the sun.

I think of you under the brightness of my shine,
the way the lines crease around your glimmering eyes,
eyes bluer than the surface of the ocean at the point between noon and eventide,
eyes that behold me with such fervor and intensity,
such that Aphrodite herself would blush at first sight,
had she but remained squarely within your gaze for such a length of time.

I reside here across our mutual desire,
in the comfort of my own twilight,
of misty mornings that clear into afternoons so bright,
I think I’m going to go blind.
I think of you when I sit in the patio at summer’s end,
I see all of you in your commensurate darkness.

Who might you be, wanderer?
Have you come to challenge the roads I’ve forged?
Where does the depth of my heart and soul go,
if they don’t already reside in the life I’ve built?
What life is this, that would pivot so easily?
I wonder time and again of foolishness and hope in equal regard.

Jeweled

I would stand in the shadow of the hallway leading out into the wide open space,
looking for you in the distance.
People would rush past, intent on not wasting any more time than it took for them to get there,
and I would linger, my eyes searching for you amidst the sea of bodies.

Alas, I would find your smiling eyes,
your laughter booming from where I stood and before then,
you would see me in the shadows and smile knowingly,
and I would make my way out to you,
myself beaming in mutual acknowledgment.
You would slide over to make room for me,
or demand that whoever blocked the way do the same,
as I was sitting nowhere except beside you.

In the evenings, we would sit on the couch in your living room,
our knees touching absentmindedly as you told me about your day,
of all the people you interacted with,
and I would listen, all smiles, and we would laugh over the stupid bits,
and then you would venture into your kitchen,
throw white rice onto a skillet, mix in kimchi and chili sauce,
and make the best bokkeumbap I would ever have,
and pack extra in foil for my mom as she loved it too.
You made food for me because you loved me,
and I loved you anyway, though the food was a bonus.

We would resume our positions on the couch after dinner,
our legs criss-crossing over each other,
there in our contented fullness,
high on life and on the daily presence of one another,
counting on each other to be there every other night,
to keep out the world and keep in this love,
a love that neither of us would acknowledge,
as we enjoyed the limbo we resided in far too much,
as we enjoyed a sisterhood that would always edge into something else,
as we went on with the outside world,
and the boyfriends we tried on like cheap shoes.

Everyone else was temporary, and we were permanent.
We protected each other like alphas
who could sense an external threat from miles away,
and no one crossed our path successfully unless permitted.

I think of you now, as I begin a new journey of transformation and progress.
As I attempt to navigate the waters of conventional accomplishment and fulfillment,
as I feign enthusiasm and earnestness for things I know nothing of,
things I may only partially believe in lest I am proven wrong.
I think of our shared wildness, our shared rebellion,
the ways in which we made each other feel insurmountable, indestructible.
Of our innate sense of what it meant to be young women
who demanded more than the world would offer us,
who demanded an entire universe and nothing less.
I think of the ways in which you were my sister, my friend.

I think of a love that remains forever gilded in a precious time long ago,
a time of ceaseless wonder and defying possibility.

As I inhabit this novel space of adult normativity,
I remain as wild and as rebellious as we ever were,
our spirit flowing through my veins like the air I breathe,
as I fight for the quintessential person I have always been.
The world I have crafted expands brightly before me,
and while I am filled with a deepening affection to move forward,
I will think of you in time, in the things I do,
in the moments when I have strayed from that old path,
the path of wildflowers and moonlight.