When the girl, I loved, died,
I locked myself in her room
while her parents were in Arizona.

I went through her things
and found
**** photos;
A few where she seemed
ashamed
and a few where she
liked her body.
She had a gummy smile
and in others
she looked down at her *******
while having a blank expression.

I found empty
alcohol bottles.
Cheap bottles of wine
and a bottle of red,
stuffed with tissue paper.

Under her dresser
I found an unopened
letter she intended to
give the boyfriend before me,
where she admitted
to being ***** as a teenager
and how she hoped
it wasn't too much
baggage.

I threw out the photos
and
alcohol bottles,
but not the letter.

I don't know why but I kept it.
I occasionally read it,
because it's her,
and I love her.

I told my friend
and he called me a
Halomaker,
because I made sure
she was remembered
as an angel.

exhale a blue-grey  
nothing makes me feel this way
light, inhale, repeat

Snow like sparks from a
Raging wildfire.

I watch the eighteen wheeler
Unload its cargo,

Shielding my eyes from the
Cotton blizzard.

Glove carries diesel fumes
And the scent of my last cup of

Coffee. Inside it, my hand
Remembers itself full of her hair

And pulling her closer slightly
Too hard, the way she loves it.

Snow like sparks from a
Raging wildfire.

There are a thousand places
I would like to be, right now.

Her bed is one.
This isn't.

tracing the words 'already gone' into crumpled up sheets I couldn't find the sanity to wash your forevers out of
spitting up blood yet only tasting your name floating out of everyone's mouths like your name was anything less than holy
kissing every vein down your perfectly pieced body because god took lightning and ran down your skin leaving a road map to guide every blonde haired beauty to a one night hotel called your arms
running my finger tips down every part of your body you finally let the thunderstorms in your head touch long enough to leave a damage that left you on a search for a pain reliever that didn't scream her name