on sharing a jail cell with a stranger

Seven hours
and
we never
even
looked at
each
other.

Through my
periphery,
I memorized
the waffle-fabriced
plaid
shirt
he was
wearing
with its
cream
being
interposed by
maroon and
mint green
streets.

I noticed
the way
he preferred to
hold or
stretch
his legs,
and I marked
only 3
sighs.

We each
stared ahead
at our
_blank_
stretches of
wall,
and our
cryptic
kaleid.osc.ope
(ey)(es)
projected
onto those
walls
{hazy} scenes of
stars
being framed by
nothing.

Cinder block
serenades
were vibrating
all around
us,
and keys
chimed and
bars whirred
and the cacophony
of
solitude
crept up my
neck
and pressed its
silvered
speech up
against
my eardrums.

My once
cr.is.p
tongue
felt hollow
and unheeded,
and my heart felt
like
a hurricane.

There were
birds
outside
singing–there had
to be.

Heartbeat silence
pounded
on;

I just knew
there had
to be
singing
somewhere else
outside of
this
place.

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Regret

Sometimes
I would like
to
smash the ocean
with my fists
until
it resembles
something
less
star-woven:
___flat___
like
I am.

The sky
is
bleeding
into
the sea
as wisps
of you
are
receding
from
me.

I’ve been here
before—
on nights
crack.ling;
crack.ed wide
like
bread crusts
or thunder.

Spread out
against
a backdrop
of skies
broken up
by leaves,
an ethereal
symphony
indeterminately
weaves.

___

(I recalled
the rhythms of
you
and the
sync.o.p.ations
of us
and how
silent smiles
popped
as your lips
parted—
until
they just
didn’t,
anymore.

I came
looking
for you,
once.

I thought that
in
your stardust
footfalls,
I
could discover
you,
again.

I wanted to find
the exact place
where
green
met
blue;
I had this
feeling
that
that’s
where I’d
find
you.)