3 months from today and it will have been one year since the first time you kissed me. That moment feels so far away. In my mind. And in reality. It also feels like just yesterday.
We are not the same. Yet, we haven't changed. So who are we?
I hate this place. Forever bound to you. Blinded. You say: Don't associate. Don't speak. But I have so much to say, and I've totaled so much already.
I didn't want to be right. But I knew I would be. I knew you would recede. I knew you would dissipate. When you got your way. But what do I get? I'll just keep quiet. And hope that you'll stay.

It's too early to say this, but I miss you dearly in these lonely midnight moments. You bring the most poetic feelings out in me.

I live in
another.
We breathe in
each other.

She said you've got the eye.
She said you've got to lie.
She said you've got to die.
She said you've got to ask
Why?

What's the use?
We're all deprived.

Put me to work.
I'm alive.

I've got the bones.
Pick me
apart.

I'm a walking work of art.

Lift me
higher.
My heart's on fire.

I'm living proof.

That we all
unwind,
from behind.

You can't
feel the skin you're in.

Until someone's felt you.

You don't know
where to begin.

Until someone's had to.

The air is thick like smoke from a forrest fire
The sky is grey and there is lightening
I can still see the burn on my right wrist left from a hot kettle
There are some burns you can't see.
Voices in me, thundering.
My eyes beg for sleep
I can still taste you on my lips like a cigarette
Tingling.
I like the way you looked at me last night
The way you tussled my hair
A man across from me is reading "kiss or ****"
I wonder which one it will be.
You tell me I terrify you.
You're terrify me too.

I touch the burn on my leg
And I can feel you staring at my cheek
Yellow sheets
Shadow of my leg
My eyes are droopy
The bed frame reminds me of fencing
A hole in the wall
You talk about her & going away
Why am i standing?
This woman is selfish and it drives me crazy
Go home to your baby
Where is he?
There's bass
And i'm lonely
Wont someone kiss me?
Better yet - give me a reason not to jump four stories?
I want to cry
But I am so dry
and tired
My feet are tingling
And i'm thinking too much about everything
And no one is thinking of me
I nod and tell you I'm okay
But honestly
A word i know i say too much
A word thats lost its meaning
Like sorry
And i love you
But honestly
Im not okay
I don't know what to say
I don't belong here
Take me with you
Away from these faces
And away from this monster that i want to keep in me
I just wanted something to pick me up
But as always
I m drowning
I stay

A bridge over blue water.
A woman running, her hair bouncing and flowing.
I grind my teeth and press my tongue against the roof of my mouth.
Last night burnt me.
I sat alone in a dark room.
You didn't know.
Just before you came in.
Just before I was smiling.
Covering my face with a pillow.
I wanted to fall asleep earlier, with your legs on either side of me.
Later, you touched my face; only briefly.
Each moment I get closer & closer.
I can't tell if you're moving away or simply staying the same.
I hope that you are falling slowly.
I'm already there.
I can't speak.
I tried to say the words in that room.
The sound of the shower running.
My lip trembled.
I caressed my own face.
Ran my hands through my hair.
As if you were there.
That's what made me cry.
The things I couldn't say.
I'll see you in a few days.
Maybe then.

Plastic cups.
Everything went fuzzy
and all around me was green.
Each new pair of heels that walked past made me want to rip my hair out.
Then I'd be even shorter than them.
Then they could continue to look
and laugh.
Teeth glowed under the black light.
I came in and out of the room.
Each time,
I tried to find him.
But when I did, he was not who I was looking for.
How did I end up on the street?
This time, no bare feet.
This time with my hair down
and a pair of glasses I stole.
I took them so I could play the part in a movie.
But I was never on screen.
No one saw me.
I sat idly in the background.
Each scene, they'd
cut and cut and cut again.
Until there were so many lashes on me,
I couldn't even bleed.

Cobbled sheets and ragged breath.
I picked and picked at the scab between my *******.

Thought I missed my city.
Changed my mind instantly.
As he sat, staring at me.
The rain was calming at first.
Now it's only making my brows furrow and my feet hurt.
This crowded space has me rubbing my tired eyes and licking my lips.
Tapping my foot to keep busy.
All I see through the fog of the windows is red and blue.
Thanking the Angels for keeping me safe like my godmother would do.
He won't stop staring.
Through lenses that look like something from a black and white comedy.
I can't laugh.
My gut hurts too much.
Leaning forward, almost touching me. Leaning back.
Looking at feet.
At the lack of trees.
Everything is too familiar.
I feel like I can't breathe.
Now he's standing and I feel guilty for feeling relief.
These buildings look just as lonely as I feel.
Graffitied.
Human work.
On them it's vandalism,
on me its self expression.
No one told me.
I suppose they don't have to now.
I'm finding out pretty quickly.
This is not what I expected.
Not at all what I wanted.
Tonight is the first night I've really felt it.
The distance.
Where does it live?  
In my knees?
In my veins?
In this city.
I want to leave too.
Like you.
If only it were that easy.

Vacancy
She smells of sugar
Scrapes at my skin
with long black cat nails
Asks me to stay
With a white dress
Clawing ever so sweetly
Its entrancing
Pointing indirectly
Kissing my cheek
I'm not sure where she's looking
Or living
Somewhere in between dimly lit and too bright to see
Touching everyone
Feeling everything

You breathe in.
And I breathe you in.
One last time.
I still haven't let you out.
I taste you in the pavement.
See you
In the rain.
In the passenger seat.
I hear you in every word.
Every syllable and sound.
My stomach coils.
Is that you too?
Wrapping around me?
You slither up to my heart
And squeeze
But not tight enough to ****.
I beg for mercy.
Pray to a god in whom I never believed
You have already let me go
So why am I still not free?
When will you return to me?
After you have crossed seas?
After i have licked the plate clean?
What I would give.
My friend.
What I wouldn't?
The bottle isn't yet empty.
Anything that will keep me from calling you.
From crashing this car.
With foggy vision from tears so salty they could fill lake city.
Tell me old friend.
If you never return.
Will you die inside me eventually?
It seems now
That if you do
I will too.

Tie him to a rock & throw him into the spaces you could be.
Between a mass of green.
Down a stairway of boulders.
Over an edge.
Into the soft hum of a city
that hides behind taiga.
Throw away the words she would say
"Do not wait"
She likes to tug at you.
Tries to rip out the way you look at him when he's turned his cheek.
She wants the memories wiped.
Break lights. Stop lights.
The way he touched you then.
Now you have dirt on your knees.
And he will be too tired to touch you again.
Throw away the possibility.
That they might be right.
Tell yourself
"There is hope"
Even in the grey he likes.
Breathe in the elevation air.
Let go of the need to be.
Exist only in this moment.
Side to side.
Where the branches make a deep scratching sound.
And so do his jeans.
Exist in the in between.
In the uncomfortability.
Only then will you see.

There is a ringing in my ears and the rain sings to me through broken shades.
I lie awake.
Hoping to catch a glimpse of you in the red light that comes from my record player.
But you aren't there.
You aren't anywhere.
I feel you in the shadows.
All around me.
I taste you on my lips.
When the light flickers.
So does this.

'Taiga" she screamed.
Jumping up on the table; embodying a tree.
She kissed me softly.
Between her eyes, a small metal thing.
You have gone beyond the bounds.
Inked only lightly.
Pretending.
An eye and blueberries.
Drew her name in the sand.

Whiskey and stained teeth.
I smelt cigarettes on your lips.
Tangled bodies.
Whispered nothings.
Look at the mess we've made.
You have robbed me of my sleep.
This is everything I've wanted lately,
but i'm afraid you will destroy me.

It's been so long since I've heard the rain.
Since I've smelt it's scent on cement. Since its touched my face.
It was early in the morning.
And you wouldn't come up again. Sitting in a rental car,
I ran out into the street.
Danced like I was in a movie.
Thinking you were going to follow me. When you didn't, I returned to foggy windows
& handed you keys, playfully.
My heart sunk a little when you kissed me.
Everything is different now.

Felt sweat on your back. Exuded sweat. A wave washed over me. A box opened, then shut. I smelsomething sweet turn sour. Asked you a question with teeth clenched. Then you asked me. We sat in silence. Your fingers in my hair. It didn't make a difference. I wasn't there. I fell asleep listening to you breathing in and out. You never stopped. Neither did I. We both continued to turn wheels. Went around and around again. Saw the world. Every inch. Still, you decided you didn't want me. I sighed. Then dreamed of a place we hadn't yet explored. A place without gravity;
It always brings me back at your feet. Feet that drag me through thick. The clock reads; 11:11. "Make a wish" And I do. I wish for the clock. And for you.

I lie in vintage floral and breathe in the musty smell of the "yellow bedroom"
The room is pitch black and in the distance is the blaring of the 11 o'clock news echoing on two televisions

I toss and turn in my bed
Its mattress much firmer
than I am used to
It makes my bones ache so I crack my feet
and stretch my legs
I hear footsteps coming down the hall so I shuffle in my place and quickly click the lamp beside me off
I lie perfectly still
Rubbing my tongue against my teeth

A small white sore formed on the tip of my tongue one week ago and it won't go away
When I eat sugar or spice
it burns
Sometimes I stick it in the air and feel the cold **** up all the moisture
Drying and healing the spot
But only momentarily
Until I place it back in my mouth, and the stinging returns, two fold

The sounds of steps again,
this time departing
Then the sound of the microwave

My eyes are swollen from lack of sleep

I lie and think of the summer I slept in this same bed
After a long days work in the heat my skin was blistered
from the sun
I took a photo of my tan lines to send to someone
My back
bright red
I can still smell the scent
of weeds
and freshly dug dirt
underneath what fingernails I had left
I could feel the dirt spill out onto my pillow as I rested my head on the back of my hand

I adjusted my position and suddenly felt the space between my legs burn
Earlier, in the shower, I attempted to shave with a cheap pink razor
It mutilated me
Left dozens of little pin ***** like wounds
The rush of discomfort caused me to sweat profusely and the combination of the perspiration and heat almost created a cool tingling sensation that reminded me of dry ice

I laid still again until the pain went away

I could feel my eyelids
getting heavier
Sleep beckoned

I recalled a happy memory
from a few days prior
As I closed my eyes
I imagined myself
back in my own bedroom
My own television
Its volume barely audible
On the screen
A film entitled
"To Catch A Thief"
My head burrowed
in a mans chest
My arms wrapped around
his neck
Swirling the ends of his hair
in my fingertips
I would drift in
and out of a dream
Each time, waking with a jolt
After some time,
He announced his departure
pulling himself out from underneath me,
kissing me softly
and slinking out the door

I yearned now
for the sort of sleep
that followed then
A heavy,
almost drug induced sleep
My body dense and soupy
My mind delirious
My dreams
Rapturous

But the elation of this idea
was short lived
And instead,
I was back in stiff sheets
Once again,
I could hear the televisions
This time;
the sounds of late night infomercials

I had always hated falling asleep alone
It was tedious
as a twice told tale
And desolate
as a desert
Back and forth
My left and right shoulder occasionally
exchanging the weight
My internal organs
sloshing in me
from one side to the other

Finally,
I found a comfortable spot
And decided
I had better force myself to sleep
On account of an early wake up time tomorrow
I took one last long breath
in through my nose

I was wearing his sweatshirt,
In the hopes his smell would waft in and put me right to sleep like a lullaby
but instead all I could smell was my own perfume I had spritzed earlier

The image of his face would have to suffice for now
I closed my eyes and imagined the small dimple in his chin and the sound of a door closing shut.

Soon I was fast asleep.

The gun, gone now.
Empty.
Years now.
The lot behind fences.
Each September in the basement.
On my knees.
A man in the morning.
I flew.
Used.
WARNING.
Only the still outside met the ground.
Why?
I can't tell you.

There's been a rattling in my ribs since I met you.
My skin, paper thin.
The wind wraps itself around me the way you used to.
And when you're here, I'm see through.

His eyes are hazel
Witch hazel in the bathroom
He tells me stories at four in the morning
Reads my poetry
His too
Says I need a purpose
He's got tattoos
On his shoulders
On his back
He asks me to scratch
In Vietnam
They cursed him
Four broken ribs
He still wanted a fight
In Marakesh
The women wouldn't look at him
I worked in Marakesh once
By the water
Making leather
The smell of fish
Baked bread
His father worked in a bakery
In Philly he said

There is no storm.
There is no expanding.
If you listen carefully you can hear the heart.
Red.
Before me.
Sun.
Blood.
War.

A cluttered space and a quickly approaching departure brings silence.
Chords wrap around my gut.
Anger swelling in the belly of my being.
My bones squeak as I tighten my muscles and bite my lip to keep this quiet.
A train passes.
My heart beats in my neck.
My chest is tight.
I squirm a bit and try to shake this feeling out of me.
It lingers in the tips of my fingers and toes.
God knows I'm going to fall apart.
Like ruble.
I will crumble.
But that can wait until tomorrow.
Tonight, we drink and dance.
On top of hotel beds, we bounce and say we're sorry.
Goodbye is too close to fight.
I'm rusting.
Turning a ***** orange and breathing iron.
There's a light that comes in through a boarded up window.
It reminds me that there is beauty in this chaos.
It reminds me that you are beautiful even when you drive me ******* crazy.

"I practically threw my remote at the television screen after seeing Insider's depiction of the prep school **** case. Why did it matter that he was top of his class? One station said she called him an angel. And left her earrings behind. Another, a gem. All that mattered to me was that she was faceless, and afraid. That her word, her crackling deep voice, wasn't enough. Even behind a shadow, she was under a spotlight."

Scene VI – The Car Ride


Location notes: Quai Henri IV is located on the Right Bank just west of Pont d’Austerlitz.

Jesse: Glad somebody does. Now, this is better than the Metro, right?

Céline: Definitely!

(The camera cuts ahead of the car, leading it as it pulls onto the main road. The conversation continues.)

Céline: I was thinking...for me it's better I don't romanticize things as much anymore. I was suffering so much all the time. I still have lots of dreams, but they're not in regard to my love life. (Cut to interior of the car.) It doesn't make me sad, it's just the way it is.

Jesse: Is that why you're in a relationship with somebody who's never around?

Céline: Yes, obviously, I can't deal with the day to day life of a relationship. Yeah, we have, you know, this exciting time together and then he leaves, and I miss him, but at least I'm not dying inside. When someone is always around me, I'm like suffocating!

Jesse: No, wait, you just said that you need to love and be loved...

Céline: Yeah, but when I do it quickly makes me nauseous! It's a disaster... I mean I'm really happy only when I'm on my own. Even being alone...it's better than...sitting next to a lover and feeling lonely. It's not so easy for me to be all romantic. You start off that way and after you've been ******* over a few times...you...you…you forget about all your delusional ideas and you just take what comes into your life. That's not even true I haven't been...******* over, I've just had too many blah relationships. They weren't mean, they cared for me, but... there were no real...connection or excitement. At least not from my side.

Jesse: God, I'm sorry, is it...is it really that bad? It's not, right?

Céline: (Shaking her head with eyes nearly watering.) You know...it's not even that. I was...I was fine, until I read your ******* book! It stirred **** up, you know? It reminded me how genuinely romantic I was, how I had so much hope in things, and now it's like...I don't believe in anything that relates to love. I don't feel things for people anymore. In a way...I put all my romanticism into that one night, and I was never able to feel all this again. Like...somehow this night took things away from me and...I expressed them to you, and you took them with you! It made me feel cold, like if love wasn't for me!

Jesse: I... I don't believe that. I don't believe that.

Céline: You know what? Reality and love are almost contradictory for me. It's funny...every single of my ex’s...they're now married! Men go out with me, we break up, and then they get married! And later they call me to thank me for teaching them what love is, and…

Jesse: (Smiling sympathetically.) Oh God. (Rubs his face with both hands.)

Céline: …and that I taught them to care and respect women!

Jesse: (Pointing at himself.) I think I'm one of those guys.

Céline: (Yelling.) You know, I want to **** them!! Why didn't they ask ME to marry them? I would have said "No", but at least they could have asked!! But it's my fault, I know it's my fault, because...I never felt it was the right man. Never! But what does it mean the right man? The love of your life? The concept is absurd; the idea that we can only be complete with another person is...EVIL!! RIGHT??!!

Jesse: (Sheepishly.) Can I talk?

Céline: (Speaking more quietly.) You know, I guess I've been heartbroken too many times. And then I recovered. So now, you know, from the starts I make no effort…because I know it’s not going to work out, I know it’s not going to work out.

Jesse: You can't do that. You can't do that, you can't live your life trying to avoid pain, at the expense of en...

Céline: (Interrupting.) OK, you know what? (Moving her fingers to mock the movement of Jesse’s mouth as he speaks.) Those are words! I've gotta...I've gotta get away from you. (To Philippe.) Stop the car, I want to get out!

Jesse: No, no, no, don't...don't get out.

Céline: You know, it's being around you...

Jesse: Keep talking...

Céline: (Jesse grabs her arm) Don't touch me! (Slaps his hand.) You know, I wanna get on a cab...

(To Philippe.) Monsieur! Arretez-vous! Non, non, c'est bon, au feu la! Juste au feu, au coin, il y a un metro meme! Je veux prendre le metro. (Sir, please stop! No, no, it’s okay, at the next traffic light, at the corner, there is even a metro! I want to take the metro.)

Jesse: (To Philippe) No, no, no, keep going... (To Céline) No, listen, I'm just so happy... (To Philippe) Thank you, just keep going...(To Céline.) Alright. Look, I am just so happy, alright...to be with you. I am. I'm so glad you didn’t forget about me. OK.

Céline: No, I didn't...and it ****** me off, OK? You come here to Paris, all romantic, and married, OK? ***** you! Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to get you or anything. I mean, all I need is married man! There's been so much water under the bridge, it's...it's not even about you anymore, it's about that time, that moment in time that is forever gone, I don't know!

Jesse: You...you say all that, but you didn't even remember having ***. So...

Céline: (Flatly, with resignation.) Of course I remembered.

Jesse: (Confused.) You did?

Céline: Yes! Women pretend things like that. I don’t know…(Laughs.)

Jesse: (Still confused.) They do?

Céline: Yeah, what was I supposed to say? That I remember the wine in the park and...us looking up at the stars fading away as the sun came up? We had *** TWICE (claps her hands), you idiot!

Jesse: Alright, you know what? I'm just...happy to see you, even if...you've become an angry, manic depressive activist. I still like you! I still enjoy being around you!

(Reaches out to touch her face, but pulls his hand back quickly, before she notices.)

Céline: And I feel the same. (Laughing.) I'm...I'm sorry, I don't know what happened. I just...I had to let it all out. I...

Jesse: Don't worry about it.

Céline: I'm so miserable in my love life, in my relationship, I always act as... like...you know, I'm detached, but I'm... I'm dying inside. I'm dying because I'm so numb. I don't feel pain, or excitement. I'm not even bitter, I'm just...uh…

Jesse: You think you're the one dying inside? My life is twenty four-seven...BAD.

Céline: I'm sorry.

Jesse: No, no, no...I mean, the only happiness I get is when I'm out with my son. I've been to marriage counseling, I've done things I never thought I would have to do. I lit candles, bought self-help books, lingerie...

Céline: Did the candles help?

Jesse: HELL. NO. (Plaintively.) Alright, I don’t love her the way she needs to be loved, and...I don't even see a future for us. But then I look at...at my little boy, sitting at the table across from me, and I think I would suffer any torture to be with him for all the minutes of his life. You know, I don't wanna miss out on one. But then...there's no joy, or laughter, in my home. You know, and I don't want him growing up in that!

Céline: Oh, no laughter? That's terrible. My parents have been together for 35 years and even when they have a bad fight they end up laughing like crazy.

Jesse: I just...I don't wanna be one of those people who are...getting divorced at 52 and falling down into tears admitting that they never really loved their spouse, and they feel that their life has been (waves his hand, as if being pulled) ****** up into a vacuum cleaner! You know, I want a great life. I want her to have a great life. She deserves that! Alright? But we're just living in a pretense of a marriage, responsibility and all these...just...ideas of how people are supposed to live. Then I...I have these dreams...

Céline: What dreams?

Jesse: (Looks away distantly, eyes starting to water.) I have these dreams, you know, that I’m…I'm standing on a platform, and uh, you keep going by on a train, and...you go by, and you go by, and you go by, and you go by, and I wake up with the ******* sweats, you know? And then I have this other dream, oh...where you're...pregnant, in bed beside me, naked, and I want so badly to touch you, but you tell me not to and then you look away and...and I...I...I touch you anyway, right on your ankle and your skin is so soft and I wake up in sobs, alright? (Inhales deeply.) And my wife is sitting there looking at me, and I feel like I'm a million miles from her, and I know that there's something...wrong! (Céline reaches out to stroke Jesse’s face, but pulls her hand back before he sees her.) You know, that I ca...that I can't keep living like this, that there's gotta be something more to love than commitment. But then I think that...I might have given up...on the whole idea of romantic love. That I...I might have put it to bed that...that day when you weren't there. You know, I think I might have done that.

Céline: (Eyes starting to water again.) Why are you telling me all this?

Jesse: I'm sorry. I don't know, I'm...I...I should...I...I shouldn't have.

Céline: You know, it's so weird...that people think they are the only one going through tough times. I mean when I read the article I thought...your life was perfect. A wife, a kid, a published author. (Jesse laughs.) Your personal life is more of a mess than mine! I'm sorry! (Both laugh.)

Jesse: Well...I'm glad it's good for something.

Céline: (To Philippe.) Oh, monsieur, c'est la! Rentrez dans la passe la. (Sir, this is it. Pull into the alley right there.)

(Camera cuts to exterior of the car pulling into the driveway of Céline’s apartment.)

I left the floor empty today. In hopes that you would come in with a mop and see my body hanging.
Instead - you decided you'd give up on housecleaning.
You were so good.
Everything was always left so spotless & shiny.
I dangled until finally I realized you had forgotten. I untied the knot around my neck and screamed at the sky.
But no one heard me.
My foot tapped.
I left early. So that I could go home to a messy room. I didn't want to do it myself. What if I paid you in pictures? Photographs covering everything.  There was a deck of cards on the table. You never picked them up, not really. Aren't you supposed to be cleaning?
You see? This is what happens when you give up your dreams. I know this was never your dream. But it was mine.

Say your plane was going down.
Say you took your medicine.
Would you sleep through turbulence again?
Say you knew two months before.
That you'd be lying on the floor.
Would you wake
in heaven?

What man or woman would you call?
Would you be awake to feel the fall?

Say you were to meet a friend
For coffee
at half past ten.
Say you stood up
and then-

Say the plane you didn't catch.
Came down upon her
and crashed.
Say the things you wouldn't say to me.
To them.

All the bodies on the ground.
All the blood and screaming sounds
just like you will sound to me
four months from now.

If we stood in ash and dust.
What would we let cover us?
Would the rain keep falling?
Or would we rust?

Who could know it'd end like this?
We swerved towards the precipice.
We went through the windshield.
We went through the glass.
I swear this is the last time
I will ever ask.

Now that we are comatose.
Now that we are deja vu.
Will you give a name to me?
Can I give a name to you?

We are rubble.
We are rocks.
We won't help you.
We'll just watch.

At twenty two I tried to die.
I looked into a silver bell.
Swallowed until I was sick.
In the bell,
A kaleidoscope of colors.
A boy with red hair.
Eyes kind.
Lips thick.
Said every time he saw me
I was sitting in a row of white,
crying.
I laid awake at night.
In a green posy bed,
soaked in blood.
Blue from head to toe.
The boy with the red hair called me true.
Told me horror stories.
Said he bled too.
Why are all the most beautiful men bruised?
When he kissed me I could taste the cat he killed.
Then he pulled my hair,
bit my neck
and eventually I forgot the cat.
Made him promise only to write love on his arms.
In the morning I left with four bags.
Two under my eyes.
He helped me carry them to the door.
I let him sleep.
And took a flight back to you.

I awoke on my back
out of a nightmare
above me
the shadow of a man putting his shoes on
my body
dense
jaded
stiff
I felt trapped
paralyzed
heard the door click shut
began to cry with the force of a person vomiting on all fours

blinking back salt
I saw them
a thin pair of black rimmed glasses
to me
a beacon of hope
I rushed to stand
spilling cold water on my feet
electricity

staring through the peephole
(into the grey foggy morning)
I waited
then finally
he emerged
shivering
the moment came
went
so I slithered back to bed
for some time
I lay there
unmoving
like a fallen mannequin
but then
once again
the door smacked shut

You’re on it.
I fall right into you.
I think you know.
When you say:
“I wish I would have met you yesterday”
I spoke to a man with crooked teeth this morning.
Tapped my foot.
Craved something.
Nothing less.
(I think I made you up inside my head)
My constant need means beauty.
It pours from me and spills onto you like red wine.
I can smell it on your breath.
I look around the room and in each small thing, the root of a tree.
I feel the branches wrap around me.
“No matter what happens tonight”
I can taste the green.
It defines us.
It gives us a name.
Two bodies.
Separated but occasionally they meet.
To you: It’s everything.
To him: few and far between.
Me: I can’t decide.
Screaming: “Everything is grey. Everything will bleed!”

Think of me
Not the days in between
When the music
doesn't feel
right
Think of me
Think of that night
When everything seems dark
Let me be the light

Across interstates
New license plates
In a new states of mind

We will take one another
Until the day turns to night
And we'll say

Baby, Baby
Hold me tight
Baby, Baby
Just for tonight

And I will find you
In a sea of faces
That I don't recognize

And You will find me
In the lights of the city
You left behind

And i'll sing
Baby, baby
come back to me
baby, baby
won't you please

Baby, Baby
In a sea of faces
you're all I see

I saw a plastic bag on the ground today and I stepped on it without thought. I huffed and puffed my way down the street in the heat, with my feet throbbing and my arms growing weaker and weaker. I saw myself in the reflection of a coffee shop, faded and grey. My hair fell perfectly at my collarbones and still, I noticed only the shape of my face and the size of my nose. I pressed the elevator button and waited. I closed my eyes and stepped in. The kitchen was empty and when I put my keys down on the table. I swear it sounded like a thunderstorm. I am alone. I danced in my room to a song I hated, but knew all the words to. I felt drunk, and it wasn’t until afterwards that I felt stupid.

The next day I did it all again, except on this day, I felt forsaken. I slumped into bed, and my mind slipped down treacherous slopes. I listened to the rain and heard it falling. I heard my thoughts falling too. All I wanted was you.

"My hands hurt. I have blisters on my thumbs and the sides of my feet. My back is covered in red, with the exception of two thin white lines where my blue straps lay on my shoulders. My fingers pulse and burn as I write, holding a wooden pen, gnawed and mountainous. I should stop, and sleep. But there's a churning in me. A need. So I scribble on. My thumbs throbbing"

You are a decade.
If there had been one before or after, you would be my lucky number.
I would have wished upon you.
You are one tenth of a century.
Nine hundred & ninety away from a millennium.
Double a lustrum.
Double x.
Yod.
You are flawless.
Taste like wine.
Are followed by many.
You inflict a great plague.
Decimate.
"Do not covet" you say.
You are Heaven
Earth
Chaos
Void
Light
Darkness
Wind
Water
Day
and Night.
Born in January.
Or was it February?
December maybe?
Ruled by the planet Saturn.
You break even.
Break into me.
Like a piggy bank.
Dimes & many pennies.
You will not be the last.
Every end is a beginning.
On Saturday.
On my way home.
The name within my heart will say
"The heart has reasons"

A rose pedaled room with double doors.
Smeared red spirits to be bleached away.
Raspberry.
Melancholy.
Cradle me.
I will cradle you.
Until we part.
Then cradle me no more.
How devine.
How wretched.
Solus.
Yet not abandoned.
Heavy eyes. Heavy hearts.
This brush of your finger on my lips now
will wreak havoc on my soul
when you are abroad.
What a decadent thing.
To cling to a man who consumes you.
My beloved.
He loves me.
He loves me not.
It does not matter.
As long as I am not forgotten.

My body aches.
The spaces between my bones feel like they're filled with glue.
My chest is tight.
When I breathe in, it reminds me that I need to sleep more and dream less.
I consider the kindness of the ground below me as I stand, sipping at chai tea and staring catatonically at the only light in the room.  
I consider the kindness of the walls as my eyes move to your things on the table.
I folded your shirt,
but before doing so,
held it to my face.
It smelt of your skin.
I don't want to forget you.
Promise you won't forget me?
The light spotlights these things,
so I take a picture.
This is what I need to do.
The picture is warm
and reminds me of sunrise.
I close my eyes
and feel orange and yellow.
The scratch of your unshaved face on my cheek.
On your way out the door,
you tell me that you might die today, and that you love me.
My stomach churns.
I hope you know that if these are the last words you say to me,
I won't ever be okay.
I try and slip into sleep.
But "four more days" creeps into me,
wraps around my heart and squeezes it tightly until my eyes fill with tears.
I'm sobbing now.
Clasping my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.
I can feel each day like a rope around me.
Tomorrow, around my neck.
Thursday has my arms and legs. Immobilizing me.
Friday, my lungs.
I'm weak.
Tossing and turning.
When will I see you again?
How many more seconds until then?
Twenty seven days between.
Twenty seven days left lonely.
I'm hoping twenty seven days isn't enough time for you to change your mind.
God knows twenty seven lifetimes wouldn't change mine.

I put you on.
You smell like campfire & have a stain somewhere.
I can feel you clutch to my skin.
I'm not sure how much longer I can do this.
You're dangling off of me.
It's a long way down.
I want to peel you off me.
But this has become something so much more than a bandaid.
I can already hear your breathing in my ear.
There was a time you held me and told me it would be okay.
Is it only in panic that you can really see me? Really touch me?
I crumple you up and try and toss you. But you're suddenly sown to the palm of my hand.
If I try to rip you from me, I'll bleed.
I will faint at the sight.
That can be guaranteed.
I'm waiting for tomorrow to come.
But tomorrow is too late.
You should told me yesterday.
There are words lingering.
I spilled out everything on the table, and hoped you'd pick up the pieces. Who was I kidding?
I am so tired.
Everything is ninety.
It's ninety degrees.
I'm boiling.
My flesh is melting.
My lungs are filling with hot air.
I'm suffocating.
It's ninety percent.
Sooner than later, I'll have reached the top.
What else will I have to give?
Here take my heart.
Take everything I have.
I don't own anything anymore.
Not even me.
It's too late.
I can't detach even if I wanted to. You're a part of me.
I wear you like a sweatshirt I've had for days and haven't washed.
I'm afraid that if I do, You'll wash away too.
I can see the tide now. It's too far out to see.
I wish you would have been there to see it with me.
Where were you? Why weren't you there?

The dress I bought to wear today was covered in daisies when I put it on this morning. Now the daisies have all withered away. Shriveled up into black seams. In the car, I curled my hair and placed pressed powder upon my face. Later I added wings to the corners of my eyes, and when I cried;  the spots that were left behind reminded me of birds hanging from a tree. Little ropes wrapped around their necks.
For a long while, I sat next to a roasting fire. My feet against grey brick. An anger in my gut swelling. I stared into a flame as it crackled and hissed at me. Took tiny sips of whiskey and swore to never speak your name again. They passed the bottle around, and when it reached me I looked at it wildly and took a swig. Counted bubbles; one, two, three.
They asked me. On repeat like a broken record. "Is he coming?" I didn't know what to say. Goosebumps covered my entire body. I felt silly. Oh so silly.

The dark is not dark enough
to silence these shadows that speak to us when we sleep.
They crawl into our bodies through the corners of our mouths.
They tell us we won't make it through winter.
Through the fog that's rolling in.
That we will splinter and crack
That we will turn into empty soap boxes.
I promised these walls I would see them again.
Two eyes are sometimes all I can give.
This rain is guilt-free.
But I will repeat my apologies like broken clockwork until you leave me.
Will my lips still taste like coffee
when you come again someday?
Will my fingers still smell like cigarets
when you're a thousand miles away?

He is a makeshift man.
Trapped between two teeth.
Unyielding.
I remain very wary and expect revisions.
We bleed into one another.
Fight back noxious fumes.
Still, I am the one that ache's intensely.
"Unhand me!" I cry,
clinging to him.
I beg this make-do man to stay.
Beg him to hold onto me.
Through fire and flames.
Vapor and smoke.
But he dissipates, as ad hoc's always do.

Last night I said give me three. You gave me two more. It meant the world to me. This morning when the sleep was still hiding in the corner of our eyes, we counted, but only got to one, then had to leave. When we arrived again, the meter running; we tossed and turned. I felt the nape of your neck against me and mistook your blood pumping for your heart beat. You stood in the doorway, your glasses foggy. Tomorrow you'll give into me. Until then I'll try and come up with something important to say, something besides "I'm sorry" I'll try and tell you five things. But for now, all that's coming to mind is today, and I'm only counting three. You are really.... I know this may not be anything.... but at least in some way, we belong to one another. In this moment, that moves too quickly.  I fell asleep just after one thirty and dreamt of you as I often do. In this dream, you had a new name. But mine stayed the same. When I woke, I was afraid I would be late. But my body ached for you, for four. For tomorrow & the next day and however long you want me. Please say you still want me. Not just my body. I hope you were kidding. I promise, you mean so much more to me.

I'm learning to trust you again. It comes in waves. Some moments, I trust you too much. Other moments, I pull back because I'm afraid of those contrasting moments. Those moments when the wave is high. I'm so afraid of it crashing down on me. So I pull back. Like the tide.

Am
I'll let you sleep
F
I'll let you sleep
C
Cause I can feel the anger
G
swelling in me
Am
I'll let you be
F
I'll let you be
C
Cause I can feel my
G
body shaking
Am
I'll let you dream
F
I'll let you dream
C
Cause my fists
G
are aching
Am
From holding on
F
From holding on
C
To you
G
too tightly

(Bridge) x2

Am                         F
But Tuesday is coming
       Am
and i've gotta let you go

gotta let you go

(Chorus)
Am                           F
But i'll wear a black dress
            C
And pearls
                  G
To your funeral

ONE

It’s not solid.

Solip.

It wants.

It speaks.

To the moon. The sky.  

It’s not hollow.

Where did it go?

It sleeps in me.

Moves to the right.

Clings to it’s neighbor.

Blinking.

Perhaps one day it will crawl back.

Where is it coming from?

Within the tree.

Magnolia

TWO

It’s late in the evening; a waterfall asks “what’s the ocean like?”

He does not stop in shock at the words.

She scraped her hair back behind her ears and raked her knee.

It could be a fine place. In constant motion.

"This could be heaven if we made it such"

It lives richly and goes mad.

Like a racehorse. A river.

It is married to shadow.

It asks for nothing.

I'm wearing the t-shirt you left.
It was stuffed in the corner of my room.
In a small space between the bed and the wall.
It emits the scent of your skin.
And embodies the softness of your hands.
It reminds me of how your arms don't begin to tan until just below your elbows.
I fill my palms with it's fabric and breathe in deeply.
I think I can smell sweat.
It rested on the bridge of your nose last night.
Dripped down into your tear duct.
I looked at you as I came into the room, you were laying on your stomach with the blanket wrapping you like a cocoon.
We fell asleep, but occasionally I would wake to the sensation of your lips on my shoulder blade.
I remember feeling something in my stomach.
I remember wishing you would kiss me good morning.
Don't say 'adieu'.

The frames
Don't have names.

Just pictures
And some dues.

The way
of the waves.

They will hold you.
Better than I do.

It wasn't the first time, nor the last. But as you laid against him, feeling tiny puffs of haggard breath against your eyelashes. You thought of this:
"You are always worth the wait"
Any other man would have just stared. Like a poster that reads 'MISSING' on a small town bulletin board. Jaw dropped and eyes wide. But he just smiled, and you  smiled back and then he kissed you.
Not for the first time, and not for the last.

Why is this so much easier now? Why does this feel so much better now? Because it's so new and new is so good?

No expectations: NEW!
No Strings Attached: NEW!
No *******: NEW!

This time, you weren't holding back. You weren't holding out. Hoping or harboring. Waiting or putting in. You were brand NEW! A NEW woman!! And in that moment, where you laid next to him. His back to yours, his hand rested on his neck, between his shoulder and his ear. In that moment: he was new to you too. A stranger. But someone you could see knowing you intuitively. In every haggard breath.
"Don't think past those haggard breaths." You reminded yourself. "Like the way they sound, the way they feel, but remember, haggard breaths will turn to deep, calm, relaxed breaths."
Breaths that say:
"Your body was busy... and now...you...are....tired"
As if it's a surprise.
But it was so onset.
I guess NEW was the surprise.
And it didn't suit him.
For some men, it's easy to flip the switch. But that man would be far too familiar, far too old. recycled.
You scoff at the words;
"would" "could" "should"
"We might as well just say what we really mean."

You ******* failed me.
I'm ******* disappointed.
I'm ******* sad.

And then you thought back to today's trip to the local Grocery Store.
You thought of white suburban mothers in yoga pants, walking down rows and rows of frozen dinners.

And you thought about what YOU wanted.

A NEW man who will stare at you blankly while he ***** you? Almost catatonic?  
Or someone recycled? Someone who looks in you, instead of at you. Someone who falls asleep afterwards? Someone who can flip that switch?

It's worth it. It's worth having someone capable of really seeing you. Into your bones & your blood. Someone who really gets you.

Whatever that means.

It's worth the wait. The lack of sleep.
You may be ******* miserable at times. You may never know where you're going or where you've been or where you are or who you are to him. But at least you'll die knowing someone saw all of you.

This doesn't mean he loved all of you. Or even that he loved you at all. But for that recycled man, you shed every skin. You open yourself wide. You let him climb inside.
Your heart isn't uncharted.
It's just unmapped.

You don't know what he wants. And sometimes it makes your blood boil. But it comes to a cool when you're reminded that RIGHT NOW, he wants YOU. And the feeling, is mutual.

But who knows what tomorrow holds? Or what happens twenty seconds from now? There's always the possibility that he'll change his mind. Theres aways the possibility you'll change yours. There's always the possibility that it will destroy you. But you are addicted to possibly.
So no *******.
Now, "No *******" doesn't mean you get to pour your own insecurities into others. It doesn't mean smacking the word "honesty" over your opinions.
"I'm just trying to be honest with you-"
"I wish someone was this honest with me when I was your age-"
None of that condescending *******.
It means you're real. More than just skin and bones. You're a pounding heart & a thumping brain.
Yes. There's always that possibility that you'll be waiting forever. Sprawled out for your recycled man and everyone else to see.
But wouldn't you rather lay in bed awake next to the recycled man (even if it's for just one night) exposed?
Than to NEW man for the rest of your life? The NEW & exciting? The NEW and frightening? The NEW man who never really understood you. Who you could never really talk to. That never really loved you.

-----------------------------------------------------------­­---------------------------------------


He picked me up in front of a family of statues under a green isling. The side of his car reminded me of crinkled paper. Or mashed potatoes. I stepped inside with this pie eating grin on my face.
"Good morning" he said, smiling back.
It was afternoon, almost evening now. I closed the door behind me and he started down the street. We hadn't picked a place for dinner yet, so we drove aimlessly around in circles for a bit.
"What happened to your car?" I asked.
His smile was quickly wiped away. I could tell it was a sensitive subject. Which meant it was his fault.
"Ran a red light" he responded, in a mumble.
I bit my lip and looked out the window for a long while. He clicked on the radio. Drum and bass blaring, I could feel the vibrations shake my feet. We pulled into a parking spot in a part of town I wasn't quite familiar with, and stepped out. Locking the doors, he made his way around the car, paid the meter and headed down the street, motioning at me to follow.


--------------------------------------------------------------­­------------------------------------


What else was I to do? I was two steps away from fully falling in love with this man. I did what any sensible woman would do: I ran for the hills. I wasn't going to be "that girl". The girl who got her heart broken, again and again and again. I had been down that road (many times) and all it did was make me look weak. I refused. I refused to be the weak one. I refused to be the one on her knees, begging, pleading. Pathetic.
I packed up my things. They fit in a small paper sack. Tooth brush, comb, respect. I wouldn't let him keep any of it. It was my turn to be strong. My turn to leave. I knew he wasn't broken hearted, and he wasn't going to be. But that would have been something, wouldn't it? To be the heartbreaker, just this once? That would have been a sight to see. A thing to feel.
I rehearsed what I was going to say. Said it aloud. In the shower. While making breakfast. Over and over. But when it came time, I put it in a text message like the heartless, cowardly ***** I was. He deserved better. We both did.

What a fool I was to do this.
64 cents to my name.
A vast offering,
You string me along a long and dark ever bounding set of trees.
Standard roses.
A man who lodged in the room next door, with a cold tongue.
I can still taste you.
SMACK.
Burning green.
Tiny swallowed patterns on my knees.
A woman asked me and I told her I would be lonely; looking onto the street.
He’s dressed in blue,
Wash (white clothes)


He had a winsome smile that you couldn’t see in a photograph.
It mimicked Michelangelo.
Brimming with confidence, then there was a heavy swell; caused by tidal surges.
Rolling waves that did not break.
Sangfroid.
How cold and calculated he was.


"I don’t drink, but I do karaoke" I’m told by a woman with a cigarette between her lips. I push myself into an old elevator. Below me; speakeasy. I want to make love to you in a room with a door that takes two hands to shut. Hardwood floors. I’m not sure what I’m trying to say; it hurts us?


I tried to drown them.
They would have never existed; moments between.
It used to be easier.

One in the morning and I'm wishing upon the whistle of a passenger train that you were here with me.
Counting down the days until I am able to see you again.
I want to say I have never felt this way.
Standing in the shower, water running down my face.
You and I are more than just two frames.
We are supplementary.
You are not just a soul case.

The morning will have to pry you from me.
I'm not ready for this.
Let me feel you breathe,
for just one more minute.
Before you go away,
tie a string around my ring finger
so that everyone can see:
That I'll be the one holding onto your heart,
making sure it still beats.