No one will believe this story written on my chest.
Hell, I don’t believe it myself.
How can I believe it when it’s so hard to read,
So hard to read because I’m **missing my ribs.

It's like some well-kept secret...


Shhhhh, don't tell Evie!

Some things are better left unsaid.
Some secrets are better left untold.

It's the nasty, sticky, slimey truths that we bury
That come at us like serpents with our names on their tongues
The ones that reveal the true character of those we love
The ones that make our beloveds ugly in our eyes

What have we done?
Are there any bridges left that we haven't burned?
What have you done, love?

What Have You Done?

It's fading, I can feel it
Like those moments when the day passes
from twilight into the dark
It is undeniable that night is settling in.

And I'm uncertain what my responsibilities are
Am I to stand watch,
Hold your vigil until the sun rises once more?
Or is this more like an omen,
A warning of the darkness to come?

All I know is the hourglass
And nothing can stop her sands.
Should I be clogging her drains with my bare hands?
Or is it time I simply lay back
And dream of the weight to come?

No answers can be found here,
There are only darkness and sand.

He was more frail than even I,
Thought I might break him
If I held him too tightly
And there was a gentleness to his touch,
Not marking my skin like newfound territory
Only invisible ink of sweat and saliva
To mark the path we chose
Tucked away now like a treasure map

He is the swatch of new paint on the wall
If I look at it hard enough,
The old color falls to give way
And my imagination can rest here
A reprieve from grief
A newly claimed corner of my mind
Safe from memories of love and pain

It doesn't fix anything
But it makes this easier
And that
Is enough for me

The problem with writer's block
Is that it isn't some mystical thing,
Some boogeyman hiding in our inkwells
And under our notepads.
It is simply one term
Encompassing a number of ailments.

Writer's block is being incapable of settling on a topic.
It is incessant song stuck in our head,
Preventing us from thinking up our own verse.
It is the checklist of errands and responsibilities
We may have forgotten that day.

Writer's block is remembering we forgot to turn off the oven,
Or the TV
Or the lights in the kitchen,
Just as we sat down with a pen.
It is the ominous cloud of self-doubt
That chases away an semblance of a first line
Or a second
Or a conclusion.
It is the sticky, complacent boredom,
Or the absence of motivation.
And sometimes it is the lack of desire,
Like a fire dying down
No flames here, but the embers still hot with potential
We wait for new wood to burn.

It is the fear of criticism,
The self-loathing that we discredit ourselves with,
And it manifests is all forms
Or just one.

It is a gift,
The mark of a writer,
Like the calluses from our pens
And it is also our curse.
Literature's hazing technique,
Weeding out those that would give up on her
At first signs of resistance.
Persist,
And call yourself a true writer at heart.

"You disgust me," she says.
Yeah, I know. Me, too.

This is it, isn't it?
Here it is, the time.
It's staring me in the face,
Dark, lonely eyes
Weaving a tale ridden with tragedy.

Gut clenching
Hands shaking
Muscles cramping
Heart weakening
It's time, isn't it?
It's here.

Forgive me,
I knew it was close.
I didn't know
I didn't see.
I failed.

Here I am,
Though I have no right,
No connection.
I wait.
Silent.
Listening.

*It's time.

Funny, what the human mind does to protect itself.

He was broken, as I was
And I thought I could fix him.
No
I thought I could be a solution.

I wanted to be the answer
That the universe whispered in response
To his nights alone in drunken tears.
Wanted to be the perfect fit
To the gaping hole in his chest.

But I was not prepared.
I gave up my heart and soul
before I really knew what that meant.
I gave him my mind and my will;
Everything, anything he wanted that I could give
I gave
I let him take all that he wanted from me
Let him run my soul dry,
and what was left,
What he didn't want
I threw away.

I was too young,
Too naive to understand
The gravity of my choices.
That is,
Until he told me
that it wasn't enough
I wasn't enough.
I was not freedom.
Commitment is not a freedom
And he didn't want any part of it.

So there I was, left with only pieces
of myself.
Not enough left to put back together
To make a whole.
Just a hole.
Empty and lost.

I was in love with him,
and to be fair,
He loved me, too.
Not for who I was,
But for who I became for him.
When he tired of that,
He found someone new to sate his interest.
And failed to mention the change.
Coward.

It's so fuzzy now.
Hazy, even.
Like looking through a ***** windshield at twilight.
I can't even remember a twinge of that love.
Not even a pinprick of the agony.
The holes in my soul don't ache anymore,
Not for him.

Funny, what the human mind does to protect itself.

Lying on this twin mattress reminds
Me of the times we'd squeeze two in one
Like some kind of intimate sale.
50% off my full sized bed
Landing me here,
Listening for your snores
But finding none.

Drunken admissions,
Confessions, decisions, and statements
Can they be trusted?
Because some would argue that
Drunk words hold true meaning,
But drunk actions lack thought.
So which is it?
Is it either?
Because your pattern of opening up when drunk
Has me doubting your promises.
You don't think she's a bad person,
And it doesn't make it easier.
You like her
And she's like you
And that's what makes it easier.

You are heaven-sent
Yet you always seem to forget.
Born in pain and agony,
Brought screaming into this world with regret.
And yet
You chose to let that define your life.

Blocking every shot that comes your way,
Until your find yourself at the bottom
Drowning like all your fake friends.
But it takes spine and guts to face yourself
To take action and change.

Will you brave those waters through still and storm?
Will you be more than just a verse in a song?

My liver is getting strangled by my intestines
My stomach is eating holes out of itself
And I'm sitting here in dumbfounded stillness
Wondering
"What's next?"

It's all still here
It's been waiting for me
Since I left it here in anger
This maze of wrong turns and traps
Of mistakes and misdirection

And still
I am no better at solving these puzzles
Than I was months ago.
The uncertainties and anxieties
The mysteries and the caution
Still hiding in the paint on the walls
Hanging on the hinges
Blowing in the sea -wind
They haunt me
Keep me company
Follow me.

Someday it will end,
Inevitable, I was told.

Even then,
Even when all is done and finished
Will I still think of you?


Will you still think of me?

Strange, the place you've taken us,
Stranger, features once familiar turned vague
Darkness behind eyes once effervescent
Well-meaning lies
To cover up the scent of drowning

You're falling,
And it's not with love.
It's with fear, and chains,
Suffocation and denial.
Not only are you sinking,
A hole in your hull the size of your need for a bottle,
You refuse rescue.

Like sitting on the edge of a wishing well,
The fountain water sprinkling my face,
And there you are,
The penny flipping end over end
About to hit rock bottom.

And no matter how I try,
You keep slipping through my fingers.

Two years ago today,
"Do you want me to be?"

I have abused you, my muse.
Strapped you to the table
And splayed open your flesh for all to see.
It was there,
On your rib bones
That I painted my narrative.

I pricked organs to spill secrets,
Sliced skin and watched it fester
And in the bloodbath,
Called it art.

I dared to challenge your choices
While I was the one who'd strapped you down.
I have abused you, my muse.
And it stops here.

Feelings are like astrophysics to me
I can't explain them

So when they tell me what I feared
Even if I didn't know I feared it
When they confirm that it's true
There's a whole side of you I don't know

It shakes me

And I'm sorry,
But I can't explain why that upsets me
I can't tell you how I got from point a to point b

Maybe I've got monsters living in my head, too

I'm tossing pebbles into the dark
Please toss one back

"I should be used to this by now."
Yes
I should.
I should be used to being a prisoner in my very skin.
I should be used to my body telling lies
That he'll take for truth.
I should be used to my ****** past ruling my life.

When I tell him I want him,
But I'm not "in the mood."
When I tell him I'm turned on
But he says he can't tell.
When we have to stop having *** because I've become painful for him
Or I disassociated
Or I just needed to stop
Yeah, guess I should be used to that by now.

I should be used to letting my partner down.
Be used to seeing the disappointment in his eyebrows.
Used to his palpable frustration with trying to understand.
I should be used to apologizing, over and over,
Knowing it is all my fault
Though he keeps telling me I shouldn't be sorry.

I want to ****** the man who did this to me.
I want to take something back from the world that stole *** from me.
If I can't have that,
I want to ***** up my sickness,
Like it's the virus it feels like.
I want to be literally ******* normal.

Is this what it means when they say,
"The courage to heal?"

I struggle to find the disconnect
Where you remember it pleasantly
But don't want it back

Funny,
What I'd do to get you off my mind.

I want to see you
Standing there
Cigarette in hand
With a hazy halo about your figure.
Beautiful in your own right,
Enchanting.

I want to happen across you
By chance,
And whisper a four letter word.
Because I'll be frightened
Of what you may or may not say.
Afraid you've grown tired of loving me
During our shared silence.

But still.
I want to see you.
On the corner,
In the drug store,
By the bus stop,
On the street.

I want a lot of things.
But most of all,
I just don't want you to forget about me.

Like the meteorites we flock to the fields to gaze upon,
I don't want to burn out.
But how do you stop the source from getting eaten away
When the fire's already hot and bright?

There was a time when I dreaded the morning shower,
For fear of washing you off of my skin.
I wanted to carry you with me, always.
Cherished your touch, scent, warmth.

Now I dread the night and the dreams that come with it,
For fear of seeing your face,
As I know I will.
There is no escaping the numbing anguish
Of longing for your touch, scent, and warmth.

Not even in unconsciousness.

You're going to meet no resistance
When you decide you're ready
Once you've made it clear that you're looking
They'll be jumping in your way to catch your attention
"Over here! Over here!" They'll cry,
Begging for a moment of your fancy.

I already know,
Don't you?
You'll have no trouble
Putting on the other shoe.

Leave without saying goodbye?
That is a capital offense, sir.

I will keep writing until it stops hurting.

Even if it's just rewriting our conversations in my head

Over and over


And over

Jingling in your pocket,
You hold the key to laughter.

I know why now
How just the mention of her name
Makes my skin bubble up and run away
How seeing her face makes my belly button turn into a black hole
How the very thought of her makes me want to crawl under my bed and cower

She is the memory of that day
The day that you came home to tell me
Of your adventures between several women's legs
How it ended with you tangled up drunk with her
How she possessed you, probably better than I ever could,
While I waited for you to come home.

She is the moment I realized I couldn't be with you anymore
She is me throwing myself into a wall
Screaming in agony because words could not express
She is the raw wound still seeping in my chest
She is me collapsed on the floor in my living room
She is you looking over me, helpless and panic in your eyes
She is the moments I never want to recall
Yet there she goes,
Flaunting her existence down the street

She is what I lack.
She is the possession of what I'll never have.
She is admired by the people I crave to know.
She is who my childhood dreamt I'd become.
She is a choice you can make over and over  and over again.

She is insecurity manifested.

And I
Am only me.

Before now,
I never thought you capable of such apathy.

Showering won't wash away the way you made me feel.

I always thought that the rain was yours
That she was calling to you as she fell from the sky
But I think now that I had it all wrong.
You are the rain.

You are satin, smooth, and sweet
You are turbulent, tortured and torrential
Darker, mysterious
I love listening to you as I fall asleep.

You make me feel safe,
Like I want to curl up in my bed,
Humming with warmth beneath the covers.

You are the rain.
Sometimes thunderous, sometimes twinkling
There is no sweeter song.
Bubbling, falling, dancing, tumbling, diving, pounding, anguished, and oh so sweet

You are the rain.

It burns my lungs as it goes down.
breathe in
Living in sweet denial is just that: sweet.
But every dream,
No matter how sweet,
Must come to its inevitable demise.
exhale
God, but it burns.

Wake up
Wake up!

It's over.
Your dream is dead.

I know it in my toes,
Can feel the certainty like the gravity in my feet,
She is my replacement
The times we spoke of her character
All lip service to calm me

I know you're lonely,
And looking for a friend.
Watch your back with this one though,
I can feel the wrongness from my carefully kept distance,
Feel it in my toes!
And the toes know.
Be careful with who you trust
Be even more cautious with who you let in.

I don't have to fall asleep with the TV on anymore.
The sullen silence waiting in the click of a light switch
Doesn't intimidate my eyelids anymore.
I don't stare at the glow in the dark stars
Placed on my ceiling long before I was ever an occupant.
Their soft green glow isn't necessary to still my uncertainties.
When I close my eyes,
I smile when the still-frame of your face arrives
I can wiggle my toes and cling to my blankets a little tighter
Wishing, longing it was you in my arms.

No more holding back my love for you
With the dam of Bee Arthur's and Betty White's voices.
No more counting the number of breaths until I fall asleep.
No more,
Because somewhere outside my cheap mini-blinds,
Under the same moon and stars
There you are, living a life where you love me, too.

Alert
On edge.
Every single subtle sound sends me reeling.
Terrified*
I wait for the other shoe to drop.

When I feel down
I like to think on all the phases in which I've loved you.
From the fragile flame of our brief beginnings,
To the tangled legs and songs of our second chance,
And I smile every time
I come back to the present,
And dwell in the me that belongs with you.

I'm supposed to be writing. . .

where did the words go?

You were the first
And the first man
To tell me you loved me.
But I wasn't the first
For you

And I know
This doesn't make it any less true,
But your love scares me
Because affection you give
Is more flighty than the birds themselves.

Delicate, it is the birdsong.
And I cannot tell sometimes
If it is your song I hear
Or the memories replaying in my mind.

It is the doubt I bear like a cancer
That poisons my mind with fear
And unanswered 'I love you's
I keep my distance now.

I keep my heart safer
No more stumbling about in the woods,
Scraping up open palms
And the heart I so carelessly carried on my sleeve
Searching desperately for you
And your song.

The vest grows heavy on my shoulders
Fuse in one hand
Match in the other
Fingertips practically itching to act.

Why is it so hard to self destruct?
I've got all the required materials right here
Why can't I be just like them
Loose with words and actions
Spreading myself like cloudcover?

They've got me thinking
Maybe if I could just explode
Pulverize myself into tiny bits
In that brief moment
Of becoming nothing from something
I'll forget your scent
Your eyes and your voice
That for a heartbeat, if only just one
Your name won't be pulsing through my veins

Even if it was the last thing on my lips.

It feels like a calm before the storm.
Avoiding the red flag triggers
Like trap doors leading to the underworld
Or a rabbit hole that only leads to
Me in the fetal position
Begging the universe to bring you back.
Instead of wandering this *****-trapped  wasteland,
Searching for the road out,
I'm clinging to the dirt,
Refusing to get up.
It is quiet like this,
Nothing scary to stumble on,
And no gaping holes to tumble down,
Just me, and the dirt
Solid, grounding, still.

I can breathe here,
But I know I cannot stay
Staying means starving
Staying means giving up a future
Staying means stagnance.
I cannot stay.

So it really is the calm before the storm
Because I feel fine now,
In the quiet aftermath,
But soon I'll have to get up
Navigate this minefield of memories,
Sadness, longing, and grief
If I want to see the sun rise.
And I will.

I once said it about you,
Now I say it for me
Here comes the sun.

I wish you'd get here already
So I could concentrate

Like dangling from a cliff edge
Is this love?

My hands feel empty
Barren, like they should be holding something
And my chest,
Hollow and heavy at the same time
Breaths like whispers, delicate.

I am fragile,
My own glass menagerie
Touch me,
And I'll shatter for you

Catch me, I'm falling.

Desperately searching for that gold,
The treasure beneath the surface
Chiseling away with nothing but bare hands
Ripped and torn from the climb to get here
Making patterns like paintings in the rock face
But my blood means nothing
Blood cannot claim a mountain
But being the first to find his treasure can
So I dig, pry, and chisel
Slicing away at fingertips
Leaving paintings like sacrifices behind

Desperate, I slam my hands into the surface
If the mountain will not be mine
I will be his
Strength, anger, sadness, frustration,
and love
Smash into his surface.

My hands may be gone,
But the mountain,
The mountain bleeds back.

Calling all heros
Tonight
Would be a night for rescuing

I never should have let it go
That far
Even now, I can still feel
The aftershocks of your choices.

When I wake up in the morning,
It will be a new day
And the beginning of a new life.

And the sun will be shining.

Keep drinking from that tap
Even when you grow wreak
Return still to take another gulp
Make yourself sick from it
But keep going back

Until it ******* kills you.

Looking back on how it all crumbled
Now that the dust has settled
It still looks the same
The same jagged, torn, scalding cuts
Sliced into my flesh with a glance
No clinical approach to it
Just a peek, and it burns like hell
A lingering, slow burn
Like the chemical variety.
Fitting, considering your chemistry.

There's no other way to see it.
Your choices that weekend
Still echo in the caverns of my veins
And on slow mornings like this one,
I can't breathe for the striking,
Astringent slap in the face it still is
Like being thrown into an ice bath.
And here I still lay,
Floating like an ice cube, frozen
Asking the same questions:

Why?
And
How could you?