She has cherry stained lips that
Curl into a smile but it’s
The end of a leash without slack,
A chain around your wrists
That only get tighter when you
Lean in to kiss
Her double sided edges

Her name is desire

People call me talented…

But if only the art from my hands could
Play violin
instead of reliving sad memories and

Holding my breath in
While the words try and

Try to create something
That makes more sense than

Someone with delicate hands
Playing a violin

I wonder
Do you ever catch a taste
Of those lies you fed to
Everyone else?
Does it fill a void
That grasping at my waist,
Couldn’t?
Is it bittersweet
Or just bitter?

I wonder
How many times did you
Go in circles
Chasing your own tales
Hanging on a single strand
Was your world painted purple?
Or was it blue?
Was it beautiful...
When you outstretched your hand
Just to close it when I jumped for you

You're almost easily compared to a myth;

While your affection is wanted,
By more than one,

You tend to either give it to all.. or to none

But never only to me

So begs the question,
In our world, does it even exist?

This isn’t the first time

I let the smoke cloud my room;

Take over my mind

But nothing ever changes,

I still think about you even when I can’t think straight

Nothing ever changes

This is simple-
No,
This is testing

Everyone starts saying
“Kid, calm your fears with every breath she breathes.”
So I'll bring you in closer
And try to make acquaintance
with your lungs

But I'm unraveling,
I'm unstrung

This is testing-

I'll take the blame
I know that we're
supposed to be warm,
While we're freezing under the sheets
But trust is an unsteady platform
And I feel like a blind man walking

Her name is October.
She’s beautiful.
Sun-dipped hair with the eyes to match.
Radiant and
warm.
So warm that the trees can almost breathe again and come back to life;
That I can almost breathe again
without it burning my lungs.

Her name is

Her name is-

Her cheeks would turn the slightest shade of pink when I leaned in to kiss them.

And I used to joke about how it’s only because of the cold weather,
Until she stopped laughing at that.

Now her mouth is a straight line.
Like a highway I would’ve wanted to follow.

If only it curved up at the edges, as if it were one of her favorite back roads.

Her head turns to look at anything besides me
And she pulls the leaves down with her as she walks away
Making her “goodbye” a statement of nature

Maybe if I scream for her
Maybe if I plead for her
Maybe if I reach for her
Maybe…


Her name was October.
That’s all I can remember
As my raised hand drops to my side.
Is there ever any point
Of grasping at disappearing air,
that used to be your oxygen?

She was delicate- even if it was in the slightest sense of the word.

Her world was formed from torn edges of paper, hand-coated in resin to hold itself together.

And leaning in,
I can start to notice the burns fingerprinted on her where the past infringes with the present.

But any heartache seems to only create
unspent passion.
Because when she was carved it was with
too much hip and bone,
too much fire in her veins
and smooth amber in her eyes.
Too much straight-backed confidence,
too much of everything
and not enough
all at once.

Tracing the lines would be an exquisite pain;
touching her but only feeling warmth, where it should be a sun on your fingertips

As if she's just out of reach..

but god, I don't want her to be.
I’ll run myself to the ground before I let the embers of us burn out.

I’ve never believed that beauty
could exist in self destruction.

Then I saw you.

Your eyes told stories with
dangerous beginnings and lost endings,
where every page was
breathing with color.

Yes,
although I hate to admit it,
you were beautiful to me.