we did it.
we got through another year.
another heartbreak.
another bout of laughter.
we experienced pain that felt like a lifetime
and every part of it was temporary.
but with the pain comes the healing.
with the end of 2016, comes the beginning of 2017.
so we're going to heal.
we are going to repair ourselves.
let our exposed parts
become windows into the soul.
let the light in.
we're going to grow together.

we fell out of love slowly
and i don't know
if that is a blessing
or a curse
i remember late nights
driving fast through the city
your hands in my hair
the next morning
playing with the covers
laughing until it hurt
and then nothing
why was it fast?
i wanted a slow love
that felt like your fingertips
on my cheeks
pressing down my tears
soaking them so softly into my skin
so when i wake you with my whispering
about slowly falling out of love
stop smiling like my hands are in your hair
and the city lights are passing by
i'm telling you how we fell
and how delicate it sounds
to fall from such a height
most are afraid of
these late nights
are a blessing and a curse,
like i said,
and the falling was slow
but my heart continues to pound fast

i hope your chest misses mine.

waking up
and not feeling the pain
you felt before
for so many mornings prior
to this very moment
was all you needed to know
that you are okay
you can breathe again
these worries did not break you
they put you to sleep
and woke you up
so that you could see the beauty
in trying again

still was the night
as i sat up in your bed
i tried to be different
i spoke less, i wore less,
my voice became like the fog;
broken and unclear,
i tried to be easier
women aren't loved
if they are difficult
i tore down my walls
so you could climb inside
and rattle me to my very core
you tried to make my body home
you broke my ribs
beating
beaten
renovations to this house of cards
empty hallways with no paintings
a stairwell leading nowhere
my mind is gone
it must have disappeared into clouds
emptiness was the fire that followed me
surrounding me when these nights got cold
you smelled like her
warmed by her love
i burned myself staying quiet
burning
smoking
black walls, soot covered
you do not live somewhere
you're not welcome
why do i welcome you
why do you call me home?
i am difficult, uneasy to love,
different, absent, broken down
a pillar holding this home steady
through the dark and broken hallways
i lurked like your lust for her
the easier, faster lover of you
i shouldn't talk so much
but i do;
the fog makes you unable to see
and my fire has burned through your desires
thickened my skin, beaten your castle down
a creaky structure still stands
easy to fall down
hard to redeem
still there
still

and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it

we are not poetry
our tears don't have words
fit to describe them
to their exact measure of pain
our eyes are not the oceans
you compare them to
because you've run out of hues
our smiles aren't phrases
you heard in your past
nor is our laughter
equivalent to your favourite song
don't hide us between lines
and this fine black ink
let us grow and live
please let us be
for we are people,
and not poetry.

the bright red flower
used to stand high
it was watered
and it grew
but it lost colour over time
soon it fell over
the way flowers do
it hung like a painting
draped in maroon
spring came quite quickly
and mothered the site
with fresh water and happiness
and a lot of sunlight
the flower was happy
and living and red
i want you to know,

you can live again.