dry heave
wet earth, shoveled
funny how nothing hurts anymore
was i too late?
wrap you in cloth
no last words—i've said them all before
you don't know what they mean
i hope the soil is all right
we tried to be gentle.
May 22, 2022
May 22, 2022 at 8:48 AM UTC
the exit is to the left, my dear
run
stop
walk
look to your right
do you see it?
the silver haze of May's end
let your lungs soak
in the rain,
in the smoke,
let your lungs expand as wide as the universe
then let them shrink like you do
in front of prying eyes
just to remind you to breathe
breathe
breathe
in
out
in
out
in and out
we're lost
you've run too far
you'll blame it on your legs
you'll say they were on autopilot
because of course they were,
because where else would you go?
you'll explain your mind was everywhere
and everything all at once—
they won't understand
the exit is long gone, my dear
we can stop now
we can catch our breaths now
open your eyes,
can you see it?
May 19, 2022
May 19, 2022 at 11:40 AM UTC
Oh Grief,
Why do you have to be so intimate?
You lean in, you whisper in my ear,
you hold my hand, you kiss my neck
(we're in public, have a bit of decency.)
Sometimes, you go too far
and then I'm choking
and I beg you to let go, but you don't
until I'm gagging on my spit, cheeks damp.
But don't worry, I don't talk about it.
At least never in full.
Only in hints
where the words don't cut to the bone
and the embraces I receive are gentle,
cradling my mind to sleep.
Tell me, do they see you?
Do they see the little blacks and blues you leave,
the print of your hand on my cheek,
the maps of hurt that you trace and follow like religion?
Or are you only recognizable in the small hours,
sitting by my bed, tucking me in,
kissing me good night, promising you'll return tomorrow
with your hand on my chest
so I don't forget the weight?
Oh, but how could I ever forget the weight?
Your body on top of mine,
almost crushingly,
smothering.
There is no need to worry,
I've already memorized the feeling.
May 13, 2022
May 13, 2022 at 9:17 AM UTC