Even Aphrodite, Greek Goddess of Love was jealous of not only their cosmic connection but because she had no hand in setting them up.

She sighs, “there are rare couples that are out of my control. Cosmically written in the stars. Destined beyond my influence.”

Cupid walks over with his bow and arrow, “I shot her, and my arrow bounced off her. That never happens!”

“Shh, calm down sweetie. These two rare beauties are beyond our reach. The heavens guided them together. This divine love is beyond even the Greek Gods.” She sighs walking away from the two souls embracing for all eternity.

“I don’t understand even Romeo and Juliet...” Cupid was cut off by Aphrodite.

“Hey! Do not mention their names,” she rolls her eyes. “They were one of my failed love hookups. I do not accept them.”

Cupid chuckles, “At least they went down in history…” he trails off, raising his eyebrow.

Aphrodite flips her long blonde hair, “They definitely went down…that’s for sure.”

its 3am and i still think about you all the time

outside my window the moonlight falls softly

addicted to the way you smiled like

a mystical snowflake before it melts

how you broke apart like i’ve been

every night for the past three years

your name tasted like glass

etched onto the stone wall

all i could see was you and the times leading up to that night

under the neon lights and ferris wheel the high i’ll forever chase

i remember the world flashing from blue to green

glow sticks and lit up signs and your leather jacket

i got lost in your smile the way others were lost

in tasteless drinks and washed up music just so

we couldn’t hear our dying heartbeats slowing down

but when i looked at you the world didn’t make a sound

i remember how the afterparty ended

with you sitting across from me

im sorry for the way i looked at you

and everyone leaving without us

i saw you walking towards the ferris wheel

with moonlight on your smile and i thought

about how i wished tonight would last forever

how much it would hurt when you leave

and i thought about your haunting voice

like faraway sunsets and clear blue waves

it really did feel like all these years were leading up

to that one night enchanting in a shattered world

you held my heart for the little pieces of memories

i held my breath for all the things we never said

there were tears in your eyes

as you kneeled down

and wrote a boy’s name in

the gravel with your finger

i leaned against a stone wall

watching you break yourself

and my hands found their way

carving a name onto the wall

fingers covered in cold blood

forgotten how it felt to be alive

blurred between heavenly lines

it never felt so good to fall apart

i engraved a name on the stone wall

your name that has never left my mind

i wonder if you ever saw the crooked letters

when you asked me about the cuts on my hand

i couldn’t give an answer because there’s not

a moment the word wasn’t my whole entire life

if i could go back in time and undo

that night i don’t think i ever would

your name tasted like shadows

remains untouched on the stone wall

ever since that night i haven’t been able to breath

its 4am and i’m sorry i wasn’t enough

- deathetix

love

lasts

like a star

a beauty

burning brightly

for all to see.

it is endless

and timeless

ellapsing over a billion years.

my love for you

has not ceased,

i keep looking up at the stars

(knowing that you are under them as well)

and thinking

about how long it's been...

but my love for you

still stirs softley

kissing my stomach

with its butterffly lips

and caressing my heart

ever so subtly

(i can still feel its warmth).

love

and

stars

"die"

(it's true)

but there is always

a little something

left.

and that love

(that star)

will slowly cool

until it disapears

(but not for another billion years).

i will always love you

This story originally appeared on Father’s Day 2019.

First time Dad said he loved me (without Mom’s prompting) I was 30. Not sure how I responded. Probably, “Love you, too.”

Had two kids at the time. One by my first wife; one by my second. It was 1979.

Having kids changes your perspective. (It changed mine.) Found myself more forgiving of my parents. Why? Because kids are impossible—cute though they may be. When they’re babies, they can’t listen. Not really. As they get older, they won’t listen. That’s a fact.

Growing up, Dad and I didn't have the best relationship: I was a nerd-type before that term existed. He was a World War Two guy. Like John Wayne. Strong silent type. Worked construction.

Me? Liked to read: Books. Magazines. Comics. Backs of cereal boxes. You name it.

My geeky behavior frustrated Dad. Whether I was sorting boxes of nails, screws, and washers, or holding a flashlight as he worked on cars, I’d mess up. Then he’d chase me way, saying, “Go read a book.”

Which, of course, I did.

After high school graduation, I went away to college. Hung out with the wrong crowd. Messed with drugs. Eloped with a girl I’d known just six weeks. Flunked out of school.

Couldn’t get worse, right?

Wrong.

Got drafted by the Army; joined the Navy instead. Messed with drugs. Ended up in Vietnam. Got a “Dear John” letter.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam.

When my four years in the Navy were up, went back home to see Mom and Dad. Had to tell ’em how bad things were; had to tell ’em I had no money, no-where to live.

They let me sleep on the couch.

I share this fall from grace to show how arrogant I’d been. Big shot. Self-important. Egotistical. Like a modern-day Prodigal Son who thought he knew everything and deserved everything—turned out I knew nothing; deserved even less.

Eventually, I used my G.I. Bill to go back to college. Double-majored in Mass Communication and Political Science. Graduated Summa Cum Laude. (Amazing what you can accomplish when you focus.)

Within two weeks of graduating, got a newspaper job. Dad, who only had an eighth-grade education, subscribed to that paper. Read every article I wrote. Even gave me story ideas. We finally had a relationship.

I cherish the day Dad said he loved me. It was great. Huggin’ that big bear of a man. Feelin’ him hug me back. Heart-to-heart. Soul-to-soul. I also remember the day a few weeks later when my brother Doug showed up on my doorstep about six in the morning. He was crying. Through his tears, he managed to speak: Dad was in the hospital. Paralyzed from the neck down. Doctors weren’t sure why.

Ten days after that, Dad died. It happened so fast. Too fast. It took me months before I could cry. When I did, it was in a store at the mall. In the men’s department. Where mannequins wearing construction work clothes stood guard. Blubbered like a baby. Wishin’ I could hug Dad and say, “Love you.” Just one more time.

Copyright 2019

Memories, like leaves, start green and soft and lush. Life pulsates through them—pulling nutrients from the soil, soaking up light from the sun.

Each day they grow, dancing with the wind. When it rains, droplets—like crystal tears—kiss the foreheads of these vibrant green toddlers as they wave and dance and love.

At the peak of their journey, the very top of their game, things change: Winds shift; air cools; water (once the bearer of life) wears a frozen necklace to the party. The leaves grow old, shifting from glowing green to frigid gold.

So, too, our memories—once lively and living—fall to the ground, become brittle and brown, until they fall apart, devolving into ever smaller pieces. Then finally dust, swallowed by the earth, mixing with the dirt. Gone.

With Winter’s white blanket hiding their ever-lost graves, they await Spring’s thaw—when nature’s nudge will launch their journey from dirt to roots, through trunks and limbs, to touch the sun again—bringing joyful memories back to life.

Copyright 2020

i’d never thought

that there would come a day that i’d be the heartbreaker

i knew i held that boy’s heart in my hands

and yet, in my insecurity

held it tighter and tighter until

palm became fist

and my hands were bloodstained

even then, i didn’t want to let him go

but because of that

i held on too tight

because of that

i let go too late

i’m sorry i am ruined and i hold on too tight

but my love suffocated him

til he broke, too.

I put you in a picture frame

hung up on my wall

like I’m hung up on you.

I put you in a purple frame

because purple was our colour,

And as lame as it sounds

I still wear purple 24/7.

You are constantly on my mind,

And I don’t have the guts

To take you off my mind

To take you off my wall

And store you in my closet of forgotten things.

You are gone

yet

I keep you here

so that

I will never feel alone.

But with your picture

I feel even more lonely

knowing that

it’s only

The memory of you

Trapped in my cage,

Trapped in my frame,

Of shattered promises

And fractured fantasies.

The real you

is never coming back.

But I still have the old you

hung up on my wall

And I still pass by the purple frame

in my purple clothes

And I still cry

my silly fat tears

Because the reality is:

I’m not ready

to let you go,

Even though I know

You were fine shoving me in your closet of forgotten things.