From the Passenger's Eyes

On your passenger's side
Back here again <////3 

Give.Give.Give 

You'll be my heart's demise
You'll have it no other way

I love you
I can't tell you this 

You'll be my hearts assassin 

I know this because you've
come very close.

I'm sitting on your right side 

Front 

seat 

of 

your 

ride

The passenger's side

How fitting,
you're driving-

A reckless driver 

Texting at the wheel 

You could care less 

You asked me here
I came here

My heart said yes 

My head got dressed and put on
makeup unwillingly

You pay me no mind 

Texting her over and over
I see you 

You're mad 

You're fighting with her
I know all these things 

I know you well

I can't say these things to you 

I can't show I care. 

I can't tell you I dream of you and me 

when our passion was lit like a wild fire 

I can't tell you you....
(You turn to glance at me as I write these words feverishly) 

...I sit quiet as you type away 

Spilling your heart out to her 

As I write this poem to you 

A poem you'll never read

I touch your arm and neck
I caress you

Attempting to soothe your pain 

You don't touch me 

You think my affection
is of another world 

I have grown and I know now 

That I am just fine 

This world accepts my loving nature 

I am not strange 

I am a lover 

Dying to love you 

You won't let me 

You are confused 

You might want to 

You might not 

You might have a grand plan 

You might not have one at all 

Your kiss is different 

It is passionless 

It is not that of a lover 

Why have you asked me here 

You asked to see me repeatedly 

You take me to a home goods store to run errands-

 playing husband n wife 

You are selfish, yet you ask for nothing 

You are selfish and return only the things that cost money 

You are selfish, yet you don't want sex. 

You want my heart.

ROCK...PAPER..

ROCK.PAPER.SEVERED 

 I see your text, 

 lay the phone down, 

 and put my pen to the paper. 

 REPLY.PAPER.LIPSTICK 

 I used to write champagne-infused chocolate strawberry love poems about you. 

 Now, I write gunpowder and fire packed tragedies. 

 RAGE.PAPER.SMASHED 

I see another one of your texts, 

press my lips to the paper, 

and light a match RECK.PAPER.FLAME

Meditation

I dream deep fields of color 

In the fall I close my eyes 

 and step curiously twisting down rows of beautiful 

orange pumpkin patches and dancing in apple orchards 

looking for him hiding among the foliage 

playing our game 

Summer slumber makes me soar

through great big purple vineyards 

holding his hand pretending 

he was mine forever 

Spring sleep brings a rainbow, scented sea of color. 

An enormous bouquet of flowers of all varieties... 

Blues, greens, whites, pinks, reds and yellows.

I pick a few and hold them close to my nose 

I see his smile 

In the winter I dream of a white blanket of snow 

under a black sky lit with stars that resemble Christmas lights. 

Red is the color of the fire I sit in front of. 

I imagine the warmth consumes me 

as I breathe in the heat of the room into my soul. 

Photographs by IIya Rashap