when the lights go out
all i think of is you
all i can think of is you

and i still blister
like you loved me yesterday.

"I met a boy who spoke like rain against windows."
Every syllable was the pitter patter of water on glass panes.

But the feeling he gave me was hurricanes on concrete.

"I met a boy who spoke like rain against windows."
The fluidity of the liquid would fill the crevices in my mind to the very tip and remind me that I was not alone.

You do not have to read the meniscus to look deeper into my being.

"I met a boy who spoke like rain against windows."
He formed his words and dragged them quietly across pavements, reminiscent of the deep tint of the clouds and the rumbling of thunder.

But when the sun came out,
I did not feel radiant
I felt alone.

I spent today reeling you in.
                     threads of your silk love
fluttered through the air  
                     like broken, escaped spider webs

                                                  how can you be at once everywhere and nowhere?
                                                        ­            on an old voyage moment
                                                        yo­u rebuked me:
            “You’re looking with the wrong eyes,
my dear”
              But my eyes don’t dart differently.

                            I sit with the innumerable knots of your
                                                                ­         miscellaneous elations.
                                                       I sift for the ends to start
                                    unraveling, adapting
                         but maybe you are just one continuous
Idea

             as lo
ng as we’
     re
tan
         gled,

                              Bind
                the­ fibers of my physical being
                              catch
                   ­       the flapping petals
                                         falling from my
          composed mannerisms

                      stitch
                 your whimsy
                                          into each atom
                                     of my salient figure-

fuse your feathered fabric
into my most raw elements.

                               My life is a matted disarray
                                  of your truest notions-

A yarn Mount choreographed from
the diminutive strands
of your blinking captured freedom

                                    I spent today reeling you in-

So- entwine me, Love,
net me forever, Sweet,
my dearest jumble to disentangle

what do you do when you want something to happen so badly
that it makes your lungs heavy and your heart flutter?
what if you know it will never happen?*
take your time.
come to terms with the fact that it isn't realistic to hope for something that won't happen.
understand that it isn't the end of the world;
the earth will spin on and orbit the sun even if your heart is breaking,
even if it has gone off like a hand grenade inside you and the shrapnel has punctured your lungs.
be your own hero.
lay yourself down and with steady,
careful hands,
extract the jagged pieces from your damaged body and lay them in the sun.
let them sit until they have absorbed all the heat you can stand,
then cup the pieces in your hands.
close your eyes.
savor the feeling that comes from knowing that you can heal your own heart without help.
you'll need to remember how it's done -
this won't be the last time.
when you're ready, swallow your mended heart whole,
so that it rests in your stomach instead of your chest.
this way it won't be so easy to find next time.
now you need to learn to breathe easy again.
your lungs are healing.
they'll be stronger than ever now;
after all,
breathing underwater for so long makes it easier to breathe when you're standing,
whole,
on the shore.