I live in more than videotapes,
carry a new hope so palpable
that I cannot speak on the train.
My mouth filled with sunshine
some days ago, 
                               I’ve been waiting
        to exhale for a long, long time. 

I let the scenery
tear me
apart, 

I build houses with my eyes,
they rise quiet from the coastline
like bright omens,
like angel’s shadows.

And I believe
in many things now,  
                                          I believe in you,
                    and I’d crawl back carelessly 
    to the privacy of my own shut mouth,
    if I didn’t find that to be another way
     to lose you. 
                Instead
                   I journey guiltless to the sun,
         lord knows I need it, love,
and I’m not the only one.

Nobody can filter out the grief, rather
publicize my peace instead,
         please, 
                  let it live here,
                   in the garden. 

There are always more petunias,
so don’t cry over annual mournings,
don’t cry that the city will not listen
from continents away,
                                                let the wind
shuttle secrets, let them remain secret. 

The world is never gonna be empty again,

promising,
I’ll come back to it,

touching fossils on my dresser tabletop,
touching my own damn skin,  
                                                            a place
           where a different sun once kissed.

I will be loved again,
this is not just a wish.