Two Poems By Zizheng William Liu

the space between longing and loneliness 
I’ve grown dependent on this pretence we endure: 
every night, lying on your bath mat, 
staring longingly at the ceiling; 
the fervent drip of the burst faucet 
lulling me to sleep. 
there is a fallacy in me lying on your bathroom floor 
and I’m unsure where it happened 
but in the corner, 
by the u-bend, 
what’s left of god is lurking in the shadows 
and he attempts to reach out to me 
but I am galaxies away 
and he is omnipotent no longer. 
but in the corner, 
by the u-bend, 
what’s left of my spirit sits in the mildew and the damp- 
and it attempts to caress my cheek- 
but it is cold, and I am warm 
and I am not the boy I used to be   
Afternoon Coffee 
In the moments where 
My bones are sugar glass, 
Brittle, breaking under light weight, 
I wonder if you enjoy candy red. 
I wonder what kind of person people tend to leave behind. 
And if they sound anything like me, 
A crack and a cry of a man. 
The sound of breaking and a heartbeat. 
I am definitely alive, 
And definitely present. 
But only like the 2:30 PM coffee. 
Like the morning sky's full moon. 
Like weeds through concrete cracks. 
Like desert rainfall. 
Like you, 
In my arms. 
Not at all abnormal, 
Not at all special. 
But an odd sight, indeed. 
Two glass cannons who can’t aim 
At anyone other than themselves.   

Zizheng William Liu is a student currently studying in Houston, Texas. He soon plans on majoring in creative writing, and has previously been recognized by the International Human Rights Art Festival’s Youth Anthology. When he’s not writing, he loves snapping pictures of the ever-changing world around him with his Canon Rebel camera.

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