dear
1957,
*******
and take him with you.

Some nights,
we found ourselves huddled together
in the dark
with the sheets sticking to our
glistening
hot
skin
knowing that someday
one of us would have to live
without the other.

Some nights,
we fell asleep
with our fingers intertwined,
our heartbeats synced,
content at the thought
that we'll probably die in our sleep
with the other
restful
unaware
beside us.

Balance is what keeps madness on the porch.

Your name means
The name of God,
A cry in the night
Screamed out into the
dark,
Drunken
street
By the girl who's name means
Peace
But who feels only the clawing
Numb
Familiar feeling,
Knowing,
That the name of God will soon turn to ash in her mouth
And that she cannot keep him
For very much longer
At all.

If I had known
That I would only learn
to love my name
When you graced it with your lips
I would never have told her
"I love you".

On the night you left,
the northern lights outside my window
illuminated the floor of my bedroom with soft red
and green light.
And I pictured you
My love
Driving
Sailing away
And the aurora
Guiding you like a lighthouse
Westward
Through the calm spring air.
I close the curtains
And take a deep breath.

For You, My Fantasy of Reckless Abandon and Whiskey Mistakes

I sit here as the thought of you,
whispering slurred speech between my legs in soft red light,
bleeds the youth from my veins,
Pulls me under,
like hooks in my tender, pale skin,
Cinematic,
Glamorous,
Gilded,
Burning.

The ****** sits on the curb,
Her hands knotted together, white
at the knuckles and
Red on the light palms,
Blue of veins and purple under
A bruised fingernail,
Slammed in a car door a week before.
The heels of her shoes are caked in Earth,
Heavy,
But she feels light,
For her hair smells of cigarette smoke
And her breath of whiskey and songs
And she knows she can’t go home like this,
So she listens in the still, thin air for
The sound of a train whistle,
Something to take her away,
Something that won’t let her look back.