"But, the ******* screaming you know?"

Lavender

"You know like the lump, the lump in my throat. I cant breathe anymore"

Rips the flower from the bush.

"-- And I just, I just. ****"

Rubs the lavender petals between palms.

"The ******* screaming. Are you listening? The screaming"

Puts hands up to face and inhales the smell of the crushed flowers.

Trail  
eyes blending the murky colors
as they slowly lick the landscape
tickling with the edge of tongues
warm pastels
as if
creamsicle dripping
the edges of fingers
somehow now
lining evergreens
rushing turquoise blending with navy
denim white caps
as fresh water churns alongside
smoothing edges of rocks
I dip my spine
the hemispheric shape of my back
as it extends over the damp
dripping moss
you cradle my body
the warmth moves between
the sensations
of shudders
as we cling alongside
one another
your lips part
as the foreign color
of red
stands out to the cold,
dimly lit nature
I bite deep
gasp,
scream
weep.

As your falling asleep
Rolling over to turn out the light
Pulling the covers over your shoulders
While the rain lightly falls outside
I hope you absent-mindedly say my name
I hope the habit
Of sleeping beside me
Has become so ritualistic
That for a split second
You forget I'm gone
And you hear the echo
Of your own voice
In the vacant studio
While the murmur of the
Machines whirl outside
Your closed door
you close your eyes
And remember what it was like
To wake up next to me
With the coffee bubbling
And the cat purring
I truly hope
It stings
the moment the vowels of my name come rolling off your tongue
You're struck with the blinding guilt
You'll never have that again
The blonde hair
On my old side of the bed
Will never be mine
The coffee bubbling will never be made by me
I want it to grip into you
As you lay awake
Thinking about the world we created
And easily you let it break.

in love with
linoleum pressing into the side of my face
the familiarity
lapsing reminders
to sleep
eat to
give into ritualistic habits of
living

exchanged the need
desire
with the pulsing sensations
of a beating heart
drying salivary glands  

is this existence
once your brain cells have all lined up
two decades in
the never ending string
pulling through your throat
repeating the same
anxious anecdotes
of

no one could possibly
relate to this
narrowing pit
that we're not going to
make it out of this alive
no one ever has

She used to lick
my hip bones as if they created a special taste
specifically for the tip of tongue  
sides of me would squirm while she danced rhythmically above
sunlight was made from the strands of her
dripping hair
I would perk my lips
gesturing my existence to the sound
of her fluttering lungs
at each giggle  
patches of grass tickled below my back
small specks of clouds
planes racing from the ground
I felt her voice
in the coils of
percolating vowels
safe precocious sounds.

If I could have begged for anything else
the freedom escaping small
egocentric
prophetic nuance
of
I loved
lost
never satiated by the cost
fingers
skin
the moments of avoidance
I've covered my years in
blanketed by
capturing each
humanistic,
societal win