a sculptor is seated
in front of a mold
clay takes the shape of
a woman’s figure
grooves the size of fingers
make indents over
her frame
she contains no head, arms, legs
gaping holes where clay
has been stolen
makes her existence
fulfilling
the viewer is asked to
take without refrain
the viewer is asked
to own every piece
the viewer is asked
to dispose of what
is deemed unsuitable
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 3:12 PM UTC
im imagining you as a staircase
suspended in space
an object defined by gravity
in its loosest sense
the ambiguity, a pull of its own
draws me closer
though i doubt my ability
to capture light between my fingers
you are dripping
through a galaxy
i have been stitched into
a compositional enigma
dark matter
there are questions that
the universe cannot ask itself
and still
space is your canvas
there are dimensions that
materialize when you speak
i kindly ask:
would you whisper
some
into me
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 11:19 PM UTC
stop thinking
about how rays of light
always seemed to
meet his eyes and
made them
gleam a golden amber
that reminded
you of honey
forget that his voice
dropped from his lips
like honey too
imagine how it was
before his presence
made you feel like
you were water
changing state
let go of feeling
his hand painting
your body
turning it into
art
remember yourself
crumbling under his grip
and the way he didnt even look down
when pieces of you littered
the floor
remember how much
she looks like you
before you were a collection
of broken promises
May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 1:56 AM UTC
thrice do the floorboards creak
beneath your feet, eldest first
and every step is a wound
vitriolic and repeating
i hear the tenebrous stair
spiral forth with the sound
of you leaving
and by the intervals of sleep
i will fall forever, hymnal-red
through the ceiling
our wildest dreams fade faster
in the folds of my memory
thinking of those eyes
one last time
wrapped around me
May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 1:09 AM UTC
we fell in love in the evening
as the night time overtook the sky
and the sun was collapsing
i think the stars could feel us falling too
back whenever my hair
was always falling in my face
i can still feel the touch of your skin
brushing over my forehead
i was a mess then
and i'm a mess now
but at least in that moment
i was yours
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 9:53 PM UTC
in quarantine
but my body has
always felt like
a prison
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 12:29 AM UTC
i stared at her picture
for what felt like forever
i tried to make out something wrong
desperately searching for an imperfection
a flaw
something that could beckon a mistake
and you said that it was all in due time
something you predicted
i wonder if you were waiting
for her
while you were
with me
its strange,
i can't stop thinking about how
my phone's still connected to your car's blue tooth
and you didnt even have
the decency to unfollow me on twitter
i wrote about you a little after
i regret putting more energy into
your memory than what you deserve
i hate that you continue to occupy space in my mind
admittedly shes fine, normal, completely beautiful
maybe its satisfying to you
the wait is over
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 12:25 AM UTC
my thoughts brought me back to france
again
i havent heard your voice for a year
and some
kinda funny how i only remember what it sounds like
because of how you'd say
"sortie"
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 11:09 PM UTC
i have started collecting your words
and planting them
like flowers in a meadow
sometimes i pick them out
"i'm crazy about you"
and twist them between my fingers
"they'll write movies about us"
or pull at the petals
"i like to know that somewhere in this world there's you"
in a game of love me, love me (not), love me
and, god, i hope spring never ends
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 12:58 AM UTC
im enamored by the bare bones hanging from your gums
they remind me of the time my body lost its skin
whenever my veins and organs and such slipped through its cage
its been a while since ive thought of the monster hiding underneath my - non-social media - persona
excuse me while i check my twitter
oh yes,
forget the instrumental tone of the paper bag holding your fast food crumbling beneath your grasp because it is
what is behind this smile
the (arguably) faster food
that fills empty hearts, minds, lives
but who are you without these bare bones?
is it reason alone that compels me to stop staring-
or the fact that i just got a new notification
excuse me while i . . .
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 1:15 AM UTC