There are worse things
than a broken heart
but to a romantic
to a poet soul
it's fuel, it's fodder
we keep scratching the scab off
and fingerpainting in the pool of our own blood

I think I finally understand
walls

If it's that fragile
then let it break

they're nice boys
don't mean me any harm
I'm probably the not nice one
offering something I never intend to give
something I don't even think I have
maybe they know I don't have it
see the emptiness in my eyes
hear it in my voice
maybe we're both hoping we can find it
somewhere in there
help me dig

Have you taken my robe from the hanger
my lotion from the bedside table
my toothbrush from the cabinet
the owl mug, things that were mine
things that remind you
have you erased me
yet
or do you remember
bodies intertwined
laughter
you sitting across from me in the hospital lobby
my hair in your hands

That's my job, it's what I do
assign a number to your pain
to get a bill paid
like that's all it is, a number

But I'm happy to use that code
instead of another
that you made it somehow
to tell the doctors
you regretted it the moment you did it
and they all say that

this isn't the right job for me, I take a bit too long
because when I read things like your story
I have to stop, take a sip of my coffee
close my eyes
and think of where you are, which room, which bed
and send you thoughts and energy and anything I can muster
I don't believe in things like that
generally
but it's the only thing I can do

I'll always remember the sister
asking if he'll play guitar again
not understanding what brain dead is

you were an education
that I'm still paying for

French fries with mayonnaise
Taking off shoes just to put them on again
Listening to the Cure
Wondering where that girl went

I keep going the wrong way
am I too far gone to change direction jimmying locks, trying doors
more closed than open now

I just realized
I can't remember the sound
of your ******

Floating in and swimming out
begging the tide to do its thing
afraid it just might

Anger
With an underlying impotence
Fists clenched but nowhere to throw the punch
Turning it inward
Darkness growing like an oil spill

Do you want me there, every time you turn over in bed, every room you walk out of and into, in your spot on the sofa, with your remote in my hand?
Do you need a minute?
I'm not sure why people do that, I'm not sure why I want that, if I want that.
Am I being selfish, not wanting to share my space?
But also wanting to share my space.
You invade it, slide into it, spill over my rough edges and then I notice you there, how long have you been there?
I'll share my morning hair, coffee breath and bad singing because I've decided missing you is worse.

synchronized drowning it looks like swimming
it looks like I'm treading, it looks like I'm living
I seem light but I'm heavy
an anchor in hiding
and the only thing you'll get
by swimming in my vicinity
is pulled under with me

the roots reaching down for water
blindly seeking it out in the dark
the sprouts reaching up for light
stretching toward it as it moves
I am reaching, stretching
in the dark and the light
and it feels so good

You know how
a shattered windshield
will keep it's shape
even when it's in a million pieces?
Are we all kind of like that?

I don't want the D
but I need the D
I think
it's big and scary and hard
It's just there, my fingers brushing over it
I can't seem to make myself..
it's just the D
but it makes love turn into loveD
I'm afraid it's past tense now

validation in a right swipe
finding maybes
finger on glass, left left left
I can't find what I'm looking for
because I know right where it is

I'm good at recycling
texts and touches and words
I didn't realize they were non renewable resources
but I'm smart, I saved them
and I've found I can live on very little
I'm an eco lover

I wanted to hurt, deserved it
bad
only good for ***
that cure song on replay in my head..useless and ugly, useless and ugly a ******* waste..
I couldn't stop myself from saying it under my breath.

You mention her too much to mean nothing,
I hear her name and it's like running my tongue over a split lip, a good hurt, I can't make myself leave it alone .

Why don't you go, why are you here?

I want the first months back when we couldn't keep any plans we'd make.. after that first kiss hello we'd end up in bed for hours, the evening just sliding through our fingers like skin

Yesterday I asked you if I do anything that makes you feel that bliss I feel when you run your fingers through my hair

and you said no
not that you could think of

I text him at 5:50 in the morning to tell him a group of butterflies is called a kaleidoscope.
Because it is.
And because I'd looked that up, having had the feeling that I'm full of an army of butterflies all trying to free themselves.
I worry that if I'm not vigilant enough they'll get free and I'll just scatter, not be anymore.
Maybe we're all that way, made up entirely of unruly butterflies.
I wonder if everyone else is just a better butterfly wrangler than I am.

I remember that night
mouth dry, my stomach a lava lamp
the words bubbling up to my mouth
I asked you to marry me
and you said yes
but on further reflection
it turned into no

I reach for your hand first
Said I love you first
But I always do
Life is complicated
and we're not 22

so I keep coming by
complicate me to uncomplicate you
hoping you'll finally see what I do

are you changeable, oscillating
do you have moments of bliss
others of dark insecurity
interspersed with stretches of blank indifference?
Or is that just me?

We are in uncharted territory
and my cartography skills are lacking
do we blindly forge ahead or go back
do I trust the bliss or the indifference
I feel the deep sea pressure of time
why do we think we can afford to wait?

Every word has a price tag,
every discussion a receipt

I'm not sure I'm ready to pay what I might have to pay to say what I say but it needs said.

I take a deep breath then I look at your face
are you my opponent or my friend
sometimes I can't tell.

One of us has to come out on top
one is paying and one is collecting and
today
I'm not ready to pay.

When it ignited, the sky exploded with the brightness, everything illuminated orange and reds.

Light and heat, color and texture

Almost too much, but never enough

We barely left the fire, throwing our bodies into it willingly, licking our wounds

The burns got deeper, leaving scars but still.. we cautiously kept thrusting into the flames,

I watched your eyes and saw no fear, no flinching
it made me brave.

He likes to do things that scare him.

Like me for instance.

I check the weather
you wonder why I feel this way
it's not that I'm unhappy but more that I'm empty
like a vanilla pod scraped clean

I've been accused of witchcraft
by others, you're not the first
as if there has to be something magical
otherwordly
about what I do to you..
because how could it be
simply
that I make you happy?

up there in the dark
every movement is honest
my heart's wide open

I've misbehaved
Bruised and muddy
Forcing life to fit my plan
Always a fight 
I'm taking you down with me
I've learned how this works
I know your weaknesses
I know where you hurt
So lie back and be still
You know you can't run
And you don't even want to
I won't be alone
you're the thing that I want
And I take what I want
You seem to like that
I'm taking you down with me

I want to love you
and be yours and know what that feels like
today I got lost in the thought of kissing you
and that hasn't happened in so long...

but then the panic attacks
start in the shower
and I'm scared
and you might go away
you might

I have to trust that maybe
you won't
but it has to be okay
that you might

I'm a self flagellator with a long
memory
I collect my whips carefully
with painful precision
I love you like a poet
you love me like a mathematician

I bought two porch chairs
When I only needed one
Hope springs eternal

I love when it's sweaty and hot and heated
and I can taste it on your lips
when skin slips and moves against skin like it's not even skin but a slippery eel of a person
like it's not the outside of both sliding against each other but the insides, the good stuff, the real stuff
slipping and slapping against the other as it tries to metamorphose and become the one thing it's always wanted to be
not the separate thing that keeps being separate and slipping away

“You’re perfect
You’re perfect
You’re perfect
You’re not”
All these beautiful things negated by complications
I need to be worth the skinned knees and bloodied lips it takes to get to me, I didn’t ask to be up this steep incline, I’m sorry for the trip, I’m sorry it’s hard

For future reference, so I remember
we were standing in the middle of the room, your hands at the small of my back, flat palms pulling my body into you
you kissed me and there was nothing else but you and I
and I thought.. marry me.

But I step forward and you step back, you step forward, I step back.. we've got this dance down
neither of us willing to risk standing still when the other comes forward.

We're just lonely vessels
floating around each other like planets and moons and
we don't ever get to know each other
we send out explorers and land on the surface for a while
take first steps and last steps and leave footprints in the dirt or sand or snow or whatever our planets are made of
but the heaving cacophony of sound and color and blinding light that resides inside
all of that remains hidden
because if an explorer got close enough, if they dived deep enough into our oceans
if they rappelled down our steep canyons
it would destroy them, they would destroy us

I was sure of you, sure of this and now it's a past thing
a thing that isn't my now or my tomorrow.

My tomorrow is wavering ahead of me in the distance
like a hot highway melting into the sun.

Nothing takes shape, it's all liquid and shifting images

do I want that other
ruled by the heart like me
would that be better, one with the words like mine and the thoughts like mine
would I feel less different, less odd, less trouble?
Would I miss that dark pinch somewhere inside when the edges rub together
and they don't mesh
and it's more like sandpaper than silk
that thing that makes me try harder, live in the pain more, be everything good at 3 am
would I grow bored if he had all the right words
is the trying for the words that don't come more intoxicating than the ready flow?

staring at the blank page until it envelopes everything
the words stopped up at the faucet
Watching the hands chase each other but they never get tired.
Fall winds rattling windows but they can't shake the words from my head out to my fingertips..
instead the thoughts bounce around each other until nothing makes sense

You say "I love you"
I say baby, I'm lonely
Lost in translation

I'm a human hole, a whole human.
Maybe we're all these holes, big gaping holes of want and need
We can't fill it so we hide it, under clothes, under beds, wherever we can fit it
It's always empty, always yawning, always wanting more
But hidden we can put on a big smile, keep your attention elsewhere           
  look up here
                                                         no over there
don't look right at me

It would be good, I think, if we could show each other our holes
poke a finger in, see what it feels like, push our bodies through, see if we can all fill each other up and be un holey
holy
complete

There are days
it feels like
my life
is just a string of apologies

do you see that?
over there reflected in the window
what is that?
Behind me in the mirror
I feel hot breath on my neck
but something tells me not to turn around
it's just the warm breeze
keep going forward and don't turn around

sometimes I think I can hear it
making odd sounds that
seem hissed through a smiling mouth
if there is a mouth
I wouldn't know because
I never turn around, look under the bed
but it's in the corner of my eye
then it's gone
It hides in the horizon of my memories
in the shadows then it disappears in the light
or only hides better
but I know it's there
behind us all, waiting to lap us up
while we go about our meaningless business

the ones who do turn around, who look behind the door
we know them when we see them
but we pretend there's something wrong
something broken about them
because admitting they're right
means we have to turn around, face the thing

that's really only time itself
watching us waste it, waiting to lap us up

She popped another into her mouth and closed her eyes.
The chocolate melted into an explosion of warm sweetness and it was another step away from him.
She knew he liked her hardness, where she was close to the skin, her shoulders and hips.
His hands almost never ventured to the softness.
He'd told her he didn't like lush women, soft women.
He'd met her at a particularly not soft time in her life but he didn't seem to understand it was temporary.
She was built on hedonistic passions, sensory excess, too much of every single good thing.
She wasn't going to change any of that.

Speak your truth, like it's easy, like it wants to crawl up your throat and jump from your mouth, to splatter and splash everyone and everything
Speak your truth, like you do, like you will, let it soak through your skin like so much sweat
It's not easy to open, to pull back the sheet metal, your hands will blister and bleed, but pull through the fear, because you're there underneath, dressed only in your truth

Where's your head at
(song stuck in my head)
Where my head is at
is
this rabbit hole of upside down thinking
What does it feel like to go crazy?
Do we get warnings or just ****** through
like the air we're made of
this tenuous hold on reality, on normal
how close we are to being un, ab