I want to reach out,
pour my heart out
and tell you everything -
You can't hear me.
You're too far out.
The rims of your eyes
are red all around,
making your irises
brighter than the sky.
But they're not blue in the same way,
they're the desperate color
that screams
you haven't slept in days.
Your skin is ashen
and your hands are clammy,
you shake and tremble without
even knowing it.
I want to be close to you,
but I want you to go away.
I don't want to leave you lonely,
but I want you to leave me alone.
I can't feel you
when you feel the way you do.
I want to push you away,
but I want you to hold me
tight like the way you clench your jaw.
When your muscles flex
in the side of your face
and I see your pulse throbbing,
the life fluid hurriedly pumping
throughout your body.
I want to distance myself from you,
but I want you to pull me in
like your bottom lip,
when you unconsciously toy
with the parts of your mouth
of which you're normally unaware.
I want to forget you, turn away,
but I want you to busy yourself
with me -
if you must do something
with your hands,
put them on me,
run them over my skin
like you run your teeth
upon each other,
grind against me.
If you'd like to stay up all night,
we can stay awake together,
run wild in the night,
or we can lie still together
and soak in the seconds,
and minutes and hours -
if it's time that you want,
I can give you that.
But I cannot be anything for you,
do anything with you,
when your nose
leads you away from me.

Your outstretched arms
are a gentle summons to my heart,
inviting me in for a romp
with the hair on your chest.
My ear finds that groove in your arm,
the perfectly-sized puzzle piece
for the side of my face.
The scent of you lulls me,
fills my nares and gently rocks me
into a trance.
Your quiet grumbles
as you breathe in the midnight air
do not disturb me,
but keep me sedated until the rising sun.
I find comfort in you,
solace,
a feeling of home.
You bring structure to my chaos,
steadiness
to my ever-wavering tendencies -
You settle me.
The static inside me
goes smooth,
and when we collide
the whine in my ears softens
and I am at ease.
I can rest
from all the negativity in the world
when your body blankets me.

She cries out,
grapples for attention
from anyone
that will cast a glance
in her direction.
She speaks any words
that may hold their gaze upon her
for more than a minute.
Going home
to settle in alone again,
a fear she carries
behind her ear,
like a spare cigarette.
Instead of lighting it,
she drives,
avoiding the ashtray
of a home,
the place scattered with snubs of regret,
unfulfilled needs,
and the scent of wishing
for more.
She screams,
hoping her tone
will find a set of ears
that will convince
a pair of arms
that she is worthy of being held.
Maybe the whispers
of guilt
will quiet
if she has another voice
to listen to at night.
Maybe her tears will cease
if she has
another pair to get lost in.
She squeezes,
holds her fists tight
and clenches her jaw
as if being stiff like a rock,
the planet we stand upon,
will draw others closer,
letting gravity do all the work
because despite how strong she tries to appear,
she is weak.