she leaves
everything
on a page,
all her sorrow,
her love
and her rage,
and I truly believe
she will write
herself free
of the jailers
who fastened
her cage.

The black man stalks my dreams again.
With his oil spill eyes
And venomous smile
He speaks in tounges
And bent up promises.

He jokes, Call me Cain.
Adam Judas Satan Jesus
Gabriel ******* Whale.
I call him the Whale
For he has swallowed me whole.

He is the flood
and I am swept away debris.
He calls me Seven
(That *******)
One for every sin I've mastered.

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.

You are just a prop in her life, Cody.
You are there to help her work through things.

That's great; one problem.
I am not a dishrag.

I do not serve as a free form of therapy.
I am not just a service to help girls learn about themselves.

I have feelings.
I get attached.
I want reciprocation.
I want affection.

Sometimes I'm the one who needs help.
Sometimes I am not just satisfied with knowing I helped.

I am not your valet.
I am not your counselor.
I am not your validation on demand.

I cannot even fathom why you think can just take.
It's because I can't give, Cody.
If you can't give, why do you think it's ok to take?

I will not always be ok.
I won't always get over it.
I won't just understand why you can't be there for me.

I am not just a rock to be your stability.
I am not just a blanket to give you comfort.

I am not a flipping dishrag.

You wonder when you will stop bleeding.**
On the night of the accident, there was so much blood loss that they didn't think you'd make it.
You still wonder how you made it.
You haven't bled like that since and the wounds have scarred over but
whenever you drive past where it happened,
whenever you see an icy patch, or a blue Honda,
the scar tears a bit.
You've tried to avoid those things, but you can't forever.
And so you wonder when the scar will fully heal.
You wonder when you will stop bleeding.

Pointy shoulder blade
- yours - digging into my cheek
Comfortable pain.

Now you hold my hand
Fingers threaded between mine
Hold it forever.

Interlocking limbs
You draw me in closer still:
Don't ever let go.

Fingertips tracing
(Please excuse my sweaty back)
Painting words on skin.

Your lips against mine
Tongues searching for an answer
How it came to this.

Though we won't complain
Laugh it off in the morning -
Just please don't forget.