There is a boy in my theory class that looks like you
His nose is gently sloping and straight like an arrow
Just like you, his hair is deep brown and smooth, straight
And his lips are bowed and soft pink, covering teeth a little too big for his mouth
But perfect for his face

There is a song that reminds me of you
It's by Tame Impala and makes me think back to the summer
When you drove around with me in the passenger seat
You hand covering my bare thigh, sticky with sweat but immovable because I am yours
And I loved that

There is a kind of day that reminds me of you
Sunny and breezy with the taste of freedom lingering in the currents
It slips between my lips and makes my voice laugh and my eyes water
Because the sky was never so blue than on days like that, days that slid through my hands
Slid through my fingers

There is a certain type of feeling that comes with my memories of you
It hurts and it burns the back of my throat
And it sometimes makes my skin crawl with regret and grief
But it also feels sore and delicate because my heart is so tired and heavy with these memories
With these reminders

There is a boy in my theory class that makes me think of you
Sometimes I stare at him for too long and watch how he laughs at a joke
And sometimes I feel my face lose its shape and seep right through the palms of my hands
Because even though he obviously isn't you, he looks exactly like you and makes me remember all of the times I kissed you while muttering love
   All the times I hugged you tighter than you deserved
         All the times I laughed too hard at something you said
               All the times I thought you were my one
And there's this word that reminds me of you sometimes
    *pain

Speak to me
Don't write to me
Don't write to me with those foreign, lifeless
periods that keep your words from dancing
like they used to
when you used to
Speak to me.

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

The city is burning
Every street and every block
The city is burning
Yet nothing will stop

I see the fire
It burns my skin
And every breath I take just inhales more smoke

Does no one seem to notice,
The world around me burning?
The scars on my flaming skin?

The world is so blind
To the pain the fire can cause
And no one cares to notice at all.

The city is burning
I go up in flames
The city is burning
But everything is still the same

Tonight feels off. Like I do not exist. Like the lightning in the clouds could come down and strike my heart and make it feel less apart and more whole.
     The lightning bugs are so thick in my backyard that I can’t step
     outside with having to brush them off my arms. The grass glows
     everywhere and the owl sitting in its usual branch shades its
     black eyes against the green flashes.
My street gets deadly quiet at about this time of night. The street lamp hums a little and the crickets whir until the first rumble of thunder sweeps through, but then all is nothing. It stills with its grey cat slinking into the grey pavement and disappearing, looking everywhere with its yellow eyes, all sunk in their sockets.
     When the wind comes howling up the street I swear it’s crying,
     not just whimpering. It’s telling the trees how much it aches.
     How much it wishes the world would stop pushing it into the
     valleys and the canyons where it cannot fit easily.
A storm doesn’t prefer to ravage branches with its gentle fingers. It doesn’t prefer to shake my shoulders until I can’t help but cry. It prefers nothing.
     Would my house seem less hollow if I were more full? Would
     my bed seem more inviting if I knew what dreams would greet
     me?

I've thrown my body to the wolves more than once
And come back to find their teeth still embedded in my shoulders and my thighs and my neck

When the night is darkest, the moon is the highest and I want nothing more than to drown in lust covered sadness

If the lights were a little lower and my skin a little brighter would I consider myself ethereal?

The dreams that I've been remembering are the ones I'd rather not think about, but without them maybe I'd be a little happier

When winter hits, my bones will deteriorate until they contain no more than stars and remnants of you, until they exist only to those who touch my face too roughly

I'm not delicate by any means, but if kinder hands had cradled my aching laughter then maybe, I'd be a little happier

Let me re-introduce myself to you.

My name is Being Terrified of Love.
I shiver when I cry and I breathe too loudly when I sleep.
But you already know that.

My skin is cold most of the time.
I have an uncanny ability to disappear into any blanket near me.
But you already know that too.

Sometimes my eyes don't know how to focus on you.
My lips turn white when I get angry.
And who am I kidding, you've known that too

Let me re-introduce myself to you.

My name is An Old Lover Who Still Loves You.
I hardly ever cry anymore and my hands hold my anxiety.
But

*you already know that.