would it be easier if i was prettier?

mattress stained with blood
nightgown hanging from a crooked branch
you look as if you’ve died and never got to Heaven
because your toes are stoved and purplely black
and i set my house on fire because your touch already feels like flames
it felt familiar
and although i hate your guts
somehow i escape my house unscathed in a plaid skirt in the middle of the midwest
and i assume you’ve relocated me from the scene of your crime
i scream into the smoky air
your sentences choke me—continually repulsed by the audacity you have to speak.
disappear, you vapid creature.

my father hasn’t been himself,
i’m piling clothes on each shelf
while the cold is attaching its lifeless embrace around my thighs that are too big
and a stomach too normally abnormal.
i write about living,
i try to live for writing;
always end up living for nothing.
maybe the ache seems like a home,
or a house
i just passed on the open road.
constantly familiar since a younger version of me
opened the vault
and it slipped out.
my eyes haven’t watered the flowers underneath my bed
since the summer came and went.
love came knocking at the front door;
the latch wouldn’t open up.
now every car makes it look as if it’s him behind every wheel.
i pass that house with a sore throat—
a lump in the back;
something’s unraveling inside of me.
i am neither tall nor strong,
every sadness almost takes the breath out of me
and i haven’t been like myself,
but when have i ever?

was she just a friend when you kissed her chapped lips?
was she just a friend before we called it quits?
did friends ever equate to the same definition of mine?
you could’ve told me so i didn’t have to waste my time.

your existence is a knife in the back;
i can’t complain,
i let you in with your murderous crime-plotting hands.
i stayed put and watched the blood drip
down each leg.
i didn’t try to plug the wounds.
i wanted you to hold me till my breath stopped and the time slowed to a lull,
till i laid limp in your arms,
still and hushed.
i wanted to be touched undecidedly
not knowing where to place the mess you left behind.
i wanted to haunt the memories in the front of your mind,
swiftly slithering about,
till all you knew was what you had done,
but it was passion
and yet i love you still.

i’m sorry
that i crumbled walls that we built standing up in a time of depression
an immediate regression
of faults and “i’m so terribly sorry”
you could’ve held me
i could’ve been your girl
if i didn’t take the sharp end of the sword
and push it in your back
as you let out a yelp
i’m sorry i wish i would’ve asked someone for help

to help bandage you up
those broken twisted bones
i was selfish
and opaque
i couldn’t let you stay
in a haven built just for my oppressive skeleton
build you some magic
then take it and grab it
and force it away
now i’m stuck in the same
pattern of anger
and “i knew you better”
no one can fix this
not bandages nor warm weather

i’m so sorry i’m selfish
i turned us to dust
no, i never loved you
i just wanted to be loved
someone to touch my back
and reassure me
make sure that i am the one in their favorite dreams
about becoming the hero
and being superior
you scraped your knees on my concrete
my hard rock consistency
you shattered my pattern of irregularity
but i never made it over the wall we built
with our sweaty fingers and our puffy cheeks
till it crumbled at my feet
and i slowly stepped over it
just for me to see you
stuck in the rubble.
you reached your hand out,
but i completely ignored it
i’m sorry, my darling, i hope you don’t hold it
against me forever
cause i would’ve loved you better.

i could’ve loved you better.


i should’ve loved you better.

killer, i have your blood on my hands
and a pool around me.
no intentions of losing you today
but still i let the gray of sadness
devour me
until it convinces me there’s no one else.
and you were something of a stand-up guy
and i’m a woman who sits down quiet
and makes problems out of her tender relationships.
killer, i have nothing to say to you
after everything. i wished i used you instead
then you could hate me
and bruise my heart
instead of me bruising yours.
i have all these dreams where it goes right
and the ringtone reaches your little line
and the laughter flows like honey from the earth.
killer, i am such a danger to your vibrant fuse, your dance moves.
we are glowing stars blind to each other’s light.
i lie down in a pool of your blood,
ashamed that i had to take the knife
and force an ending upon you.
killer, how did i ever expect to be loved if i
i didn’t even welcome such a thing in?

does it take all of me
all of me
me out of all people
to realize the nakedness? that i’m
bearing my soul for the heck
of it? for some “asylum”
built for the pleasure of others?
should i stand straight up,
laugh like i’m confident,
own the naked
parts of myself,
dance for the sake
of it, blow the horn?
live like i’m sick, live like
a parasite, going from
door to door, searching for cracks
and crevices to slip under,
sniff with the nose i forget
about all the time,
live like there’s more?

by the time i’ve woken up,
with my wooly socks pressed underneath blankets,
you’re already gone.
i don’t believe in myself
when the people i love leave cause they can’t contend with my
dagger defenses
and my ugly weapons.
i wish so, i wasn’t so dangerous with the ones
who give me a warm bed to sleep on
a warm mug of tea,
soft little socks so my feet don’t freeze
and they call me the things i want to hear
but not because i forced it out of their mouths,
but because they really want to.

and by the time you leave, i’ve already understood why you had to exit the house,
pack all your belongings into your flimsy *******,
and escape from the scene.
i’ve already made sense of your decision and the vicious cycle i let you tumble through;
it’s not fair.
the way i keep you a distance you wish was much closer,
or how i convince myself that this could conclude with no closure.
your lungs cannot bear my unhealthy air.
the room is all dusty,
filled corners with my despair.
i’m laying here still,
as still as one can when they’re losing their mind.

and by the time i’ve woken up, you’re already gone without a trace
and i will not chase you;
i can’t.
i’ll lay here in waist deep shame.

darling mellow sunshine,
paint your words upon my tongue
so you do not have to move your lips—
i will do the task for you.

darling hilltop basking bluejay,
dance in defiance
in the long grass—
you never have to impress
anyone, but your creator.

darling dazzling firefly,
shining in the backyard,
sit with me on the porch swing
until the afternoon strikes us groggy
and we will sleep within the overgrown weeds.

darling seaboard sandpiper,
splashing lukewarm waves
upon the body you call yours
dream until your dreams become fulfilled.

darling intimate flower field,
the cumulus clouds above
draw shade upon our upside-down faces
be free and become one with me
a cautious lover,
a dandelion spread by the wind.

adorably flimsy darling,
i love you.

need a friend?
the doubts live inside of me like citizens
that walk slowly in courthouses ready to sue.
all their passions are out of wack,
they only know how to survive by shooting down others.
every hollow house i was led to, hand in hand,
as i trusted you to guide me.
i need a friend.
i need the fever, the fire, the rage, the shooting star, the red seething blood.
any warmth to remind myself of tenderness,
even if it is without at the core.
i need anticipatory silence, waiting your filthy hands to slap the dinner table and i rush to clean the shattered plates.
don’t hurt me,
be gentle,
don’t make me smaller.
make me smaller,
make me writhe,
make me smaller,
quieter, less of a burden.
be responsive,
make me spill.
i need a friend.
the panic has large hands that choke me,
has a large frame to push me deep
and never lift me out.
though, i will not make do with violence,
i am not silent when it comes to love that festers.
need a friend?
the breaths i take will be for you.
the day is wicked
and you are so tender,
i would like this meal to be filling,
i would like you to stay a while.

i'll drink it down:
the unmanageable pain
and lose my worth in the process.
the strength i’ve tried to pretend to have
since i was a little child
who discovered not having love
defines me.
i was always undeserving,
just once someone told me i wasn’t
that i could be happy
and foolish me believed them.
i’ll drink it down:
get wasted to forget
to change myself so that i am unrecognizable.
i believed in miracles,
but perhaps that was naïve.
i’ll drink it down:
the sorrow until it is one with my skin
until it is buried,
until it is unrecognizable.
until that is all i am.

eliza, she twirls like a ballerina as the piano moves along
she’s cute and she’s cheerful, she leaps around to a familiar song
oh, but eliza has changed
she’s pale in the face
she’s got goosebumps from the cold rain
eyes welling with tears from the salt she poured in them

eliza, she used to be such a joy to be around
oh, but now she can’t keep a conversation without her hands sweating
her nihilistic views cloud her intuition

she’s like charcoal on a whiteboard
she won’t go away, she haunts my every hesitation
she’s blocking my inhalation
she was like a butterfly in my hand
and now she’s ash from blazing land

       such a letdown, such a change in plans

eliza, she glimmers like sequins in the fog
sapphire eyes in hot tubs
but her sadness is her overwhelming weakness
it envelops her in its hurricane
she creaks like old wooden stairs under the weight of her own
she temporarily lives in midnight moonlight sorrow
with weak bones and a crestfallen shadow
burying herself in the emptiness of solitude
the january blues stalking her every move  

oh, eliza,
i miss you
who you were, all that you did
i miss your surefire smile
your continuous laugh
your sweet disposition
your hilarious jokes and the positive halos radiating about your head

now she’s volatile
as wild and insecure as an adolescent child

she falls from the stage onto a bed filled with tears
(she calls it a water bed, she tries to remain optimistic)  
(all she knows is that the rivers that flood from her eyes show that she is not completely numb)

the spring sentiments used to be her constant
she used to have scraped kneecaps and a clueless exuberance
solely a bandage could heal her

oh eliza,
have i taken you for granted?
have i stripped you of your merit,
leaving you gagging and slumping in the rainfall?
your irises were streaked with summer’s blues
now they’re just stained from the blue ocean tears you cried

oh eliza,
what happened to your sheer happiness,
leaving a movie theater with the main character’s personality?
did the pounding in your chest come from the insecurities i ****** upon you with a thousand pounds of force?
i miss your cathartic release, the eclipse of your moon striped body on my bedroom wall directly in front of the place i lay

she’s casted shadows over the bridge she walks across to sabotage her footing
she sits with her mouth open in frozen silence
trying to capture the warmth that waltzes around her

oh eliza,
am i to blame for this destruction?
your lugubriousness now looming over the flowers on meadows you once danced on
i miss who you were, but mostly who you won’t show
the harsh judgement gathered like dust along your body
you haven’t been you, eliza, for years



eliza, she twirls like a ballerina as the piano moves along
listen to her song
for her worst secrets are held in breakable silence

all i do is write and hope you call.
sweaty hands on shaky pens.
the dreamworld i imagine has you in it,
but i cannot touch it or it crumbles.
and what kind of sanctuary did i build for myself acting like you’ll keep reaching out till your lungs start to shrivel?
my own imposter syndrome kills me
from the inside out
and i’m sorry i never quite saw myself in the light you envisioned.
all i do is write and watch the wall.
imagine it being my friend
imagine it being unable to punch a hole in
but just as it is, my doubts come hurling;
there’s a hole in your stomach the size of my avoidance.

i hide without the possibility of seek,
without the capability of you finding me
in the deep deep woods of my heart.

we are echoes to each other’s empty corridors.
you bounce off the walls and the noise is gone before i speak.
but if i just speak up, will you hear my throat scratch,
will you wait till the next little creak?
if i chose to find my way out of the hallway,
will you just be standing staring at a wall?
or will you come and find me
collecting my screams
and committing them to memory
so that the echoes are just reminders of
what you’re truly searching for?

all i do is write and hope you call.
hope you sit and remember the nights
and contemplate diving headfirst into what terrifies you.
hope you use reveries to daydream about me,
hope you patch up the holes you’ve received.

hope the indecision doesn’t haunt me
doesn’t echo in my corridor
doesn’t call with your voice in the darkness.
hope i never mistake it for your tender care,
hope i never come running at it with bared teeth and teardrops,
wishing it dead.
hope i never become the bitter villain that forgets how to love
and both hands become weapons
pointed and primed
waiting for someone’s weakness to define their demise.

all i do is write and hope you call
and lose my mind thinking of you giving your all
to someone who won’t reciprocate it,
someone who’s still hoping you’ll search for them
even though they do not wish to be found.

a friend to me is like a bullet,
a little sting entering my body.
a friend to me is a swarm of flies,
an unmanageable mess.
a friend to me is someone broken and ruined on the inside.
i love elusively and leave a forest fire in my trail.
you try to call the firefighters to calm my erratic flames,
but you cannot stop me from sabotaging.
you cannot stop me from being alone.
but i love you with every inch of my soul,
hurting when i see your letters slowly disappear from the mailbox.
the fire is violent and you are not fireproof;
though sometimes i dream you are.
i dream i swallow my worries and hurl them in a suitcase down a cliffside.
i dream i don’t burn down the house we built,
instead i reconstruct it when it starts to shake.
you cannot love me from a distance—
i completely understand,
that you wouldn’t char your fingers;
you wouldn’t have any left to touch me with,
sweetly and so compassionately.  
i cause the deaths of so many beautiful things because i fear they will fall apart anyway.
i feared you would run away,
leave me dusty and frail,
but you loved me until you couldn’t anymore
until my fire singed your skin
and your soul just couldn’t bear one more second of torture.
i understand fully why you had to let me go.

waiting for months to pass
and then, i’m blue
and am labeled ungrateful.
waiting for months to turn to dust
in my rusty palms
to set straight my wonky emotions
to soothe my ferocious oceans.
counting days till my cage is opened
reciting rhymes until i come back to life.
waiting for months to disappear
become marks on the calendar
can’t wait for this year to be over.
waiting for these months to stop dragging
my laden feet
upon the creaky floorboards
resisting the torture.
waiting for the months to surrender
to the year’s higher rule
succumb to the power.
waiting for these months to blow by
to relocate out of my eye view
to package up and leave.

i can’t endure these months anymore

juvenile
with your harsh profanities
and gritty teeth
grabbing ahold of me
puncturing my flesh

i want to be more like God
and i’m trying so hard

i read inspirational poetry books in the mirror
and around you,
i smile in fear
do things rehearsed and pre-planned and you don’t even notice
because the main focus
is you

façade strong
happy blushing faces all day long

that’s not who i am
and you’re the one who should know me best
but you don’t.

and i don’t understand how you plan
to take me down to the pits of the earth’s core
because i want to be more
like who i adore
and that’s just not you.

the beat of drums pounded into her heart
releasing signals in her brain to jolt her head up and down to the rhythms.
she sang and screeched and carried on long into the night as she kissed the cheeks of some man who called her cute.
she returned home with his tattooed arm in her coat, clutching onto her for dear life; the way he should have treated his phone on the dance floor.
he flopped on the sofa, slurring his words like a sorority girl; hammered.
he blacked out belligerently drunk on her couch and at one in the afternoon he arose, coughing, residue on his fingers.
his face covered in drool from sleeping dramatically like a madman.
she handed him an advil, a glass of purified water, and her phone to call someone he had had any contact with before.
his face was pale and sickly; she could tell he felt crushed by the weight of his bewilderment.
his eyes, though strung out, were jet blue with a glimmer of teenage angst and a spark of the hopeful nature of a child in a field of dandelions.
he uttered few words and collapsed into the firm motherly hold of the couch, struck from exhaustion.
he gazed up at her, who was half naked since she had only been awake for three hours and had nowhere to go because she was too embarrassed to bare the bruises in the creases of her neck to the public.
but instead of speaking to her, he started gulping down the water after taking 3 pills of advil to make the pain disintegrate.
carefully, he set the chilly cup down and stood up slowly and steadily.
he gasped feebly, but managed to prop himself up on his two wobbly legs.
“you alright there?” she asked as casually as possible, to make him perceive her as less of a threat.
“where am i?” he inquired to this woman he faintly recalled.
“oh,” she giggled, “my house. you blacked out on my couch yesterday and i didn’t want to move you, you looked so peaceful, so i just left you there. hope you’re ok with that.”
“okay with that?” he asked gently.
“well yeah, i’d feel pretty worried if i ended up at a random strangers house on a saturday morning.”
he chuckled.
“well, to answer your question, yes i am quite confused, but i am a free spirit. so this is basically just a new experience i can add to my repertoire.”
she raised an eyebrow. “repertoire?” she pondered.
“well, i write music for a living.” he smiled sumptuously.
“you do?” her cheek bones got visibly higher and her eyes didn’t have the same troubled look to them as they did a few minutes ago.
“yes. i am not a very good musician, but my band and i get by. we play gigs at places. oh right, like last night. we were playing for fun and then...oh! a girl was kissing me. now i remember!” he was quite proud of himself for that.
“well, that’s the funny thing,” she started, “i was the one who was kissing you.” she laughed briskly.
“you were?” he asked, totally perplexed.
“of course. i didn’t know you were playing for that place last night, i thought you were a waiter or a pedestrian or something. ooh, or an alcoholic!”
“ouch.” he grinned delicately.
“no, no offense though.”
“too late, i already took it to my cast iron heart,” he joked.
she laughed.
“well, you were one cute waiter at that,” she stated seductively.
he smiled with his lips pushing into his mouth a little bit.

“thanks for everything. the couch, the advil, the talk. maybe you should see me another time. i play at bars all around the city. i’d love to see more pretty girls come around and hype me up once in a while.” his grin turned into a beam.
“no problem, i suppose i would like to spend some time around people who are rich and aren’t fun sponges,” she joked effortlessly.
“i can be sometimes.” her little giggles poured out of her mouth.
“well, i’ll see you around. hit those drums!” she called out to him as his uber arrived.
“sure thing!” he waved as he entered the car.
and for the first time in forever, his heart caused him to feel more emotions than his wicked hangover.

pinstriped and perfectly perfected into paper towns paper heaven paper falsities paper lies paper lucid dreams paper love
placate every single soul who’s about to go overboard
play my game with ****** fingertips
take those sandpaper words and smear them on my pinafore dress
tied at the waist
too small, no, too big, too stretchy, too loose, too tight, too everything
i perform every time i step out the door
poised and prodded and paced
problematic
sickness in this perceived health
parts of me floating bloodless in the ether
pardon me, but are you scared of places that your parents haven’t gone?
particularly i don’t believe a single sentence that escapes those perfectly formed prison walls holding gums and teeth inside
on purpose, i have patience
for people with the same patterns of personhood as you
and almost painfully,
i watch this perfect place catch flames, burn into paper perception paper wishes paper puppets paper precision paper people with paper powers with paper pleasure and paper pets and paper feelings
i deny this premonition,
i have been promised love if i continue with this patience
please paint my skies golden brown in this paper town
and i will pace by the doorway
peeking through the window panes
politely waiting for the headlights to pull into the driveway

—
no pressure, any time will be fine

the hands i hold collapse, i'm left tilted, obstructed,
a building built by careless hands
who know not the sturdiness it takes to keep the structure standing.
all i am is something worth tearing down,
demolishing to make way for bigger cities and richer people and taller things
and
empty promises of salvation.
the hands i hold are tired from a cruel days work,
they cannot make room for my vacant premises.
every world has no reason to keep me standing,
arms to my sides,
steel tiles tumbling to the ground slowly.
the hands i hold collapse, i'm left tilted, obstructed.

daisy’s spread out in a vast field
twirling as the wind whips their blossoms
salty lips and caramel hips
dips and tricks
picking up the flowers that fill the ground with
color
laughs in Flagstaff
sidesteps and triceps
gracefully holding sweaty hands
in fields that only flowers inhabit
liberated limbs in little lands
with boundless promises
sway with arms on shoulders
hands on slim waists
spreading fake wings while lying in the yellow
field
smelling the scents, but with no allergies
spinning until floating
two in one without knowing
falling into enchanting spells
flower field remaining sweet
while kissing is faintly heard in the brisk
night air

oh, what a magnificent thing is to be in love

i could’ve lived in your irises
now, instead,
all my regrets waltz with their arms tangled
on a whim.
i’m too red in the face to reach out for yours
to dance till the morning sun shines
we’d then have to hide
from the brightness
the lights on our faces.
i’m too ashamed to love you without the dark veil of nighttime that swallows me whole
and i occasionally let it convince me of how this will go.
i’m too embarrassed to love without borders,
even after your friend called us something to consider
and i consider
until i start lying
and pulling on my collar to avoid the subject:
i love you and i do not regret that.
i’ve locked myself up in a castle of my fears
trying to adore you through dungeons and tears
though i can’t seem to tell you
you’re all i want here
besides the night chill in autumn
when you touched me softly
with words, “i am worth it,” and
“i’m so deserving.”
let’s dance till our teeth fall out
rot on the floor
and bury our bodies
to create something more
a whole garden, a lilac, a whispering willow tree,
anything to solidify us into eternity.
i’m so scared i’ll forget the steps to our favorite dances
and accidentally step on your brand new shoes
maybe you’d scream and holler
at me the pure bother
or maybe you’d take them off
and say you never needed them in the first place.
pathetic, i’m scouting for little spaces to hide
i’m so wary of you in this light
but we’ll sing all the songs
the way they were made
and i’ve constructed a million classic cliches
for you to involve yourself in.
the music becomes us, we become the music.
i’m sorry i had to disappear for a moment;
had to get some fresh air, the corridors were buzzing,
i see fireflies, they remind me of you
how they never care who
is watching or witnessing
their perfect glory
even when they are caught in a jar or a hand
they fly away because they don’t understand.

let’s watch these bugs till the morning comes
and the light might creep up, slowly descending on our smiling faces.
i won’t forget,
i’ll never regret you
even when the morning reveals our intentions;
i always meant to tell you anyway.

i never loved you like that
it was just that you were
a raft to my dehydrated,
ocean-soaked body.
i never loved you.
i never loved your pores or your sweet talk,
it was just that you were the tourniquet that stopped the bleeding.
you were the peace treaty.
it was just that you were
the smiling child to my baby fever.
the edge of my doom was a little grassy field
off the cliff—
it was you.
i was never
—will never—
be in love with you
but you were a handmade quilt
constructed with a mother’s caring kiss
that laid over my body
so that the cold could not nip.
you were a constant.
and i know you know
i will never be in love with you
but i love you for what you made me,
for what you allowed me to become.
i will love you
till all time
for teaching me how to love who i am.
and hopefully,
one day,
i will be able to return the favor.

in the unrestrained tornado
i heard the scream of a little girl
she screeched and screeched and got louder with every breath she took
i heaved deeply
so deep i felt my ribs crack a bit
but it didn’t impair me
because i was too locked in to her helpless and terrified yet determined screaming
so locked in
that i didn’t take a moment to breathe

     and that’s when the winds died down
     the roaring halted
     stopped
     the shouting of the young girl was all gone
     the uncomfortableness that i felt, dissipated
     into the shadow of the night
     no damage had been done
     everything is all good now
     i didn’t know natural disasters could be
     created inside the mind of a poser

it was when you looked at me as the fireworks exploded in your eyes that i realized this is what life should be like

ballrooms and bokeh lights

i’ll once believe we have something, some kind of ember
some kind of fire that doesn’t scare itself
some kind of blaze that never escapes
that keeps growing and forming and whistles all day.
there’s some kind of weather
that makes me colder
and you, warmer.
some kind of change blowing through the summer air
some kind of new wind unheard of from here.
there’s some kind of vigor i wish i had
that you do  
and it’s so easy to get swept up in the current of you.
no matter where i swim, the tide carries me down the wet sullen stream.
i’m back in the heart of things,
something is grabbing my pant leg;
it can’t be shaken.  
i float down the river,
weaving our love into baskets to send off to the water.
i’ll once believe we have something
when you pull my shaking body out from the water,
wrap me in a towel
and place me by the fire.

near some kind of ember
floating till its death.

candle wax dripping down your hands
a tablecloth tied around your waist
dawn feels like the apocalypse
cause it’s so still
and endless
we’re both helpless in this realm
but you are gripping me so tight
i’m going numb
how come you can ease this pain
with your bruised arms
hidden underneath the tablecloth?
immortal love
is a concept i only heard of in the
highest heavens
speaking of that, where are we?
gravity seems too difficult of a subject
matter to explore
i’ve only ever been on one planet
but you can be my next
although the dark seems like
a cloaked monster with
bear claws
and candle wax
seeping from every vessel
it can’t envelop us
it can only change our ambience
nothing can capture us
through the tight grasp
of our arms together

where did you come from?
cause i lit every candle in this room
now they’re all blown out
and the darkness doesn’t exist
science can’t explain this
neither can my lips
so i dance in the burning kitchen
with your hands on my waist
and mine on the tablecloth
you wrapped around yours

“forever?”

                             “forever.”

and now is just the end of something i cannot begin again
my jaws clenched,
suitcase packed and anxious to leave
leave behind the stories
that made you whole,
made you your present self,
leave behind the promises made in may,
the goodbyes frozen in august.
and now the ending is so clear
denial seems impossible of an option,
build up the walls again,
the walls built from fear
hide your body
if you lose it, never was it worth it
lose the weight of progression
start a new world you cannot dismantle
dismantle love, make it unrecognizable
unable to be recognized through a shoulder brush
just another universe, unable to be kept
keep the words to yourself,
swallow the sting of loss
trample the persistent pangs of hunger for the things memory cannot reach
hide until the hiding spot becomes a home
soft and harmless
abandon the idea of forgiveness for yourself,
yourself the one past forgiving.
disappear into the smog,
suitcase in hand,
barely lifted off the ground.
this is the end of something i just cannot bring to begin again.

sometimes i write to no one
nobody is filling the void deep in my soul
so i make up fantasy men to take up the space
to fill in the cracks with their vibrant smiles
cheekbones accentuated
i instruct these prosthetics to heat my freezing
cold heart
stuck in a plain old reverie with kisses and children dancing in a ballroom
these fake and imagined life forms leave behind a vestige of fantastical beauties
these creations are flowing like water in secret caverns
dancing around my empty body
healing my blemishes but they still return to the creations’ surprise
they lift my limp limbs and lower me over the ancient greek pond
letting me drink the rich and luscious stream
filling my body with water, weighing me down
more mass and a bigger center of gravity
btw i am almost dead by the time they finish these rituals
these fantasy men care for me day in and day out, but they are sculpted from my mind
not real, this is not reality
they make me feel “happier” and “fuller” in my eyes but i know this is all a façade
naked and no one shall know
that the girl who waits here for fantastical sculptures to touch her and clothe her is a deep and dark disappointment
some say, “what an ingrate.”
some don’t even bother to care
nobody truly cares
and i figured this out many months ago
i am finally letting go
and as i turn to these creations i have created inside of my head
they blow and dissolve into the wind
therefore i have virtually no one
so i weep into my pruny hands
then draw the conclusion that i will never be loved
at least i know one thing for certain  :/

i drove past your street two times this week
but you’re in a different state
and i’ll never step out of the car.
i want you now as you are,
i feel you believe in me in a selfless way.

two times this week
and i already want to give in,
but what if you have a lover and
she’s soft and patient and so much less afraid than i am?
i’ll make your nights an inescapable daydream,
i’ll never make you worry.

why am i just figuring this out,
that you’re all i needed?
i went to a million parties that i wished i could’ve found you in
but you were in a different state.
i keep thinking i’ll see your face
where you are not
and isn’t that a sign?

if i admit this, will you cower?
will you have not felt every single moment as i did?
i don’t want to misinterpret this.
instead i’ll drive by your street two times
and remember how it felt to be loved,
not wasted.

i’m alone on new year’s eve,
starved of life,
been living off of fleeing thrills.
i’ve been hungry,
lacking the flavor that lingers
on my tongue.
completely distraught,
all up in my head like i owe myself a debt.
the new year’s eve moon is absent,
but i need her;
she understands the length of my despair,
and she places hope in my palm.
nothing along the horizon,
just the vague glow of the Christmas lights from the passive neighbors.
unsure of what new year dawns,
if this one
will knock me off my feet,
waltz with me until daybreak
touches my cheek,
or leave me astray on a bustling city street
where the largest emptiness isn’t even in my own twisted heart.
and perhaps this year
will taint me,
paint me multicolored,
until my own shade of individuality cannot be seen.
fragile or elusive,
a patient lover,
a reckless ******,
a kiss that stays for longer than thought.
bigger shoes to fill,
new attitudes to convey,
new deals to follow through on,
old ones that have never been finished,
losing the fears of the past ages
that burned
down towns, left them flat.
if the new year unfolds like a film reel
with an unreliable narrator,
i’ll likely fail to look up at the moon,
lose my direction,
start believing the superstitions
with all my soul.
don’t leave me stuck on a bench
at the kitchen table,
writing instead of letting the world handle the anxieties for a while.
leave me alone on the edge of
a new platform
that makes feet sink past their comforts,
ankle deep in something i cannot control or hold with both hands or penetrate.
there may be new avenues to walk down
just to turn back around again in,
kinds of sabotage that
only i know how to bring upon the only thing control can control.
and new year,
don’t leave me alone no more,
i never wanted to be afraid,
watching the moon disappear like
all good friends do,
and have a stapled tongue
so that i cannot speak for those
who wish to
be heard
by someone,
anyone.

the reflection of tangerine sunset on the rainy road and the wide expanse of kansas is the pretty i want to be.

the mystery soaking in the wound.
some sun-tanned lady with a ballgown.
a rose bush absent of the thorns.

the burial sight of an isolated victim.
an unspoken but understood shadow.
the willow tree’s branches after a nightly frost.

the strange white light before death.
the neatly tidied vanity.
a polite aftershock after a raging earthquake.

the sandals,
the beachside condominiums,
the skyline with white stripes.

my amiability
surging through the atmosphere,
singing for salvation.