there once was a village where the sun worshippers lived. backed then, the sun shone even brighter and hotter than it did today. every day the sun worshippers would take offerings to the altar of the sun god, get on hands and knees, and pray to him. they would spare no expense when it came to their worship. enough food was brought to the temple to feed all the gods and there was enough surplus even to feed gods from other religions.

the sun god was happy. he knew the worshippers loved him, and he loved them. but soon he found the worshipper's love was conditional.

one day the sun turned cold. the worshippers, not understanding where the divine heat had gone, became confused, then angry. how could the sun god, who'd they'd spent so much time believing in, give up on them like they were mere specs of sand on a vast beach? they rose from the floor of the temple, their robes billowing about, and looked around. there was too much food for such a cruel, uncaring, fickle god. they took the food away and desecrated the temple. the altar was smashed, the stone cracked.

the people in their rage and sorrow attracted the attention of demons. floods ravaged the town. their buildings burned, their people drowned. without the loving heat from the sun, their crops stopped growing- their animals died, but this only seemed to anger them further, for the sun only seemed to becoming colder. eventually, they tore the temple to the ground and spat on the remains. the few still alive left the village, their robes tearing in the strong wind as snowflakes began to fall.

thus was the end of the sun worshippers.

but it was not the end of the sun god.

millennia later, an archaeologist came upon the desecrated temple, wondering how such a community could have destroyed their place of worship from which their entire lives seemed to revolve around. nearby, under an ancient dried up river bed, he found a mural beneath the dusty sediment. it was in such perfect condition that he almost felt like he was meant to find the stories it depicted. looking further, he found the answer to his previous question- the sun worshippers had turned their back on their god, had become vicious, because the sun stopped shining warm. as he dusted away more of the dirt, however, the story continued and he found out why the sun had gone cold.

long ago in that far away time, the sun had lost its dearest moon. in such dismay and sorrow at the loss, it curled upon itself, unable to support anything but itself. when the offerings from the people he loved stopped coming, and the temple where his heart lied was demolished, he only grew colder, eventually uncaring about what happened to his previous worshippers. the saddest part of all, however, was what was inscribed at the bottom. but alas, the archaeologist couldn't read the ancient language. so he carefully dug up the mural, piece by piece, and sent it away to a museum where the story sat for decades more.

eventually, a very smart scholar came across the mural and, in a moment of surprise, realized she could read the inscription perfectly. it spoke of how, when the sun god needed his worshippers most, they had turned on him completely. how if they had just kept worshipping, kept offering, the sun would have heated up once more. but because they were selfish, believing the sun should shine for them, they were blind. they didn't see that the moon had disappeared and how much it had affected their beloved god that they had once worshipped so lovingly.

realizing no one would believe her if she spoke of what she had read, she kept it to herself, wondering how the sun had gotten warm again. as she left the museum, the concrete fountain out front caught her eye. in the rainbow mist that the water spray cast, she saw a vision. in that vision, she saw the people in their torn robes leaving a desecrated temple during a blizzard. the scene flickered and changed and she saw that it now depicted a different village, with their own set of sun worshippers. then another, and another.

it dawned on her that, while the sun had lost one facet of its support, it had other villages full of villagers that hadn't turned their back on him. they saw that the sun god had been in pain and instead of casting a scornful look upon him, had worshiped more and offered more bountiful food. with their help, the sun slowly began to shine again, becoming ever warmer...

but it never was as bright or as hot as it had once been before it lost its beloved moon.

the water is rushing

i struggle to stay afloat

slipping and clawing at water-worn rocks

people watch me struggle

but they only comment on

the art i make with the droplets

the way my body moves as i gasp for air

i choke and they take it for a song

encore

they demand

i give it to them even though

i’m running out of air

if my hands could mold planets,

I would.

if my breath could form mountains,

I would.

if my voice- if my eyes- if myself could,

I would.

But I Can’t.

even all these years later i think about you every day

i used to believe we’d meet again one day but now i’m not sure i even want that

what did i mean to you?

am i something different now?

or do i mean nothing?

how can i think of you all the time

when i don’t even cross your mind

it’s bullshit

these words are bullshit

i’m bullshit

just know,

that i know,

i fucked up.

and for that

i will be eternally sorry

The scent of each cherry blossom petal

Feels and smells like bliss

Reflection of the night sky

On the glassy surface below

Disrupted as a flower

Drifts onto the surface

The ripples

Float away

In perfect symmetry

Your breath, sweet, warm

Ruffles the hair above my ear

The back of your hand

Brushes against my cheek

And I know.

But then the ripples

Become waves and the flowers

Lose their scent

I sink below the water and soon find

It was never a pond to begin with

I wanted you to be my first everything- and in some ways you were. But really, you became my last. That's the way I'll always remember you. Like newly fallen snow, I soon became muddied and lost my purity. But maybe you can't lose something you never really had. Maybe no one is ever truly pure.

I never believed in heaven

Until I met you

Then I knew it was a real place

Here on earth

But with heaven, comes hell

One can’t exist

Without the other

I soon found out

That hell

Is a place on earth

Without you

I’ve ran out of ways to describe how you make me feel. And yet,

I haven’t even begun to graze the surface

I feel you in the wind and I feel you in the chilly afternoon air

I hear you in Netflix series and in The Beatles songs

I think about you every day, in the morning and the night

The second I wake up to the second I’ve fallen asleep

Even sometimes, my dreams.

You’re nothing tangible anymore.

Nothing more than a whispy lavender nostalgia.

And yet,

You’re still

My everything

I’m over you

And everything that happened

Most of the time

But every now and again,

You poison my thoughts

And lash your talons into my heart

It’s been a year since we last talked

It hurts to think of all the changes I wasn’t there to witness

Do you have a girlfriend now?

Is it Grace?

I hope so.

You two were good together.

Where are you going to college?

Are you staying in state, or escaping like you wanted to?

What are you studying?

How are your goats? Your cats?

Damn. I can’t even remember their names.

I dream that one day

You ring me up

To bandage the wounds you caused me

But I want you to know

That I know now

You had your own bullet wounds to treat

It wasn’t the right time,

But I believe we are the right two.

Maybe not lovers, like I wanted,

But just friends.

I don’t know.

Maybe someday

After the wounds have scabbed over

And there’s nothing left but discolored scars

You’ll contact me.

Maybe then it will be the right time.

I hope.