When you laid in my bed, you were a landscape painting, and I had filthy hands. When you sat, ******* and upright at my kitchen table, you were a storm and I had nothing solid to hold onto. Everything else in between is a blur, and I am grabbing whatever I can from the Styx swirling around my synapses. In the end I am holding onto what feels like broken glass and I am trying to describe this in a way that will lure you back under my floorboards until you seep through and catch me by surprise like a flash flood. Everything about you stings like saltwater and everything about me bends for you like light and I am so covered in wounds and you are so covered in shadows. When you lay in my bed and sigh like God; when you peel an orange in a way that makes my heart feel all your tearing and pulling, I can stutter for up to six hundred ninety one thousand two hundred seconds. Eight days pass and my lips slowly learn to speak again.

see that house on the corner? the one with blue shutters.
I used to live there, you know.
I did.
and I had a room.
my very own room
with lilac walls and smooth wooden floors
perfect for twirling and sliding and slipping
and huge bay windows, my eyes to the world
that I’d draw on some misty mornings
and I loved how my fingers could wipe away the blur
and I’d look out at the stars and dream.
I had toys there, you know.
lots of dolls and bears and crayons.
sometimes I’d line them all up and sing for them.
and dance.
and they’d clap their hands and paws and cheer and throw flowers
with petals crafted from light-years of imagination
and we’d build tents together out of blankets and chairs
and tell spooky stories and cuddle when we got too scared.
I knew every nook and cranny in that room
every creaky floorboard, every crack in the plaster
was music to my ears, was a familiar face  
I knew it all by heart
like a song from my princess movies
which I loved very much, you know.

then one day we moved.
we packed up our memories
in boxes piled to the sky
and my teddies and dolls cried
from their bins in the van.
and I stood in the doorway of my empty room
just looked around for a while, you know.
and there were no tents or dance shows or anything.
not even one stray sock.
just bare lilac walls and smooth wooden floors
I tried twirling and sliding and slipping, but I couldn't.
everything I loved was no longer mine.
my friends were just absent furniture and toys
had they ever been anything more? I thought
as I climbed down the stairs
older.
wiser?
and I wondered if maybe a new girl would move in
and I wondered if she’d take my dolls and bears and crayons.

Lean in,
close...
closer,
feel your heart pitter patter
as their scent washes over you.
Let the warmth of their breath
gently caress your cheek.
Slowly kiss their neck,
the soft spot right above their collar bone.
Linger there,
tasting their smooth skin,
a pleasant mixture
of their soap and
the slightly salty taste of sweat.
Listen to them inhale slightly
at the electric tingle of your lips.
Feel them press their body closer to yours,
one hand tightly gripping your arm
the other winding their fingers
through hair on the back of your head.
Pull back,
gaze into their eyes,
blue and grey,
like a stormy day on the ocean,
or green like the summer leaves,
swaying in the breeze,
or brown like a small milk chocolate,
melting from the heat in your hand.
Inhale...
Exhale...
Hold this moment in your mind,
trap it in your memories forever.
Let it be the thought that you remember,
when you've forgotten everything,
when you've forgotten everyone,
even when you've forgotten your own name.

My mouth is a confessional
a forgive me father for i have sinned
lips locked tight, secret keeper.
Words split, splatter the inside of my cheeks
and they slide, jagged down my throat

and lips don't meet collarbones,
and skin doesn't meet skin,
and my body is drenched in my own fingerprints
because my arms are covered in goosebumps
and i'm screaming THIS IS NOT ME
inside my head

i will never be bold, *****, beautiful enough for you
your experiences will far surpass mine,
I dig my fingernails in between my lips,
they creak open like the door to a dusty room...
I AM NOT GOOD ENOUGH

i am stuck in my own skin

Remember, if I claim too much of you,
  I claim it of my brother and my friend:
  Have patience with me till the hidden end,
Bitter or sweet, in mercy shut from view.
Pay me my due; though I to pay your due
  Am all too poor and past what will can mend:
  Thus of your bounty you must give and lend
Still unrepaid by aught I look to do.
Still unrepaid by aught of mine on earth:
  But overpaid, please God, when recompense
Beyond the mystic Jordan and new birth
  Is dealt to virtue as to innocence;
When Angels singing praises in their mirth
  Have borne you in their arms and fetched you hence.