Past is past.

Often, when you what if to the past,
your solution is vodka or benzos,
before you remember that any shit
(which gave you all those regrets)
also gave you the power to regret.


Where we live.

Over the summer months
I often bought
my groceries
at a shop situated
by a clinic known for planning families.

I gained several pounds; they lost more.


I told him I loved him;
I told him God loved him.

He asked me
to pray for him.

I knew I’d see him again,
because he knew there was
someone that I could pray to.


While I was leaving,
my small cut stitched,

he sat slouched against
the white washed wall,
some red on his coat,
knowing there was

nothing else
to do.


I saw her at a party,
for the first time
in a long time,
adjusting her

It was not as
waterproof as

She left holding hands
with him (I suppose,
as severance).