Go ahead
hold me a little longer
than usual.
You say to me,
without using any
words at all,
"it should have been me,
its still me."
Like i don't already see
those sky blue eyes
every time i close my own.
Because we're still holding
on to god knows what.
Because it is you
and it will always be you.

Your hair was long in the summer
and I can barely remember the way
I used to run my hands through
it and the way your tanned skin
would come together with mine.
When the leaves started to change
you cut it off, kind of like how
we started to cut each other off.
And I still have your winter coat
from weeks ago because
if I gave it back, it could mean
letting go, which we all know
I couldn't easily do with you.

they looked at me and said
“what happened to him?”
and I said back,
“well, I don’t think he’s
capable of caring for anyone
but himself right now,
but when he is, she
is going to be the luckiest
human in the world.
and I will always be jealous.”

someone's in the next room over
having *** while we
are weeping
what a way to mark the occasion
the day my fingers found a wound
you let someone else doctor
it's upsetting see
the bible in drawer next to us
the way our hands still
fit together
like the torn halves
of a love letter
the way you got
all dressed up like the rain
and how we couldn't tell
the difference in the shower
it was the longest hour and a half
spent crying
the hot water wouldn't give up
so why should we
right?
even though it was scalding
neither of us touched the ****
we knew this was supposed to hurt
your hair
a black mess against my shoulder
my fingers
oil in the vinegar of your hands
our bodies
the great divide
all the sobbing
a river runs through it
without the courage
to carry or **** us
so we step out
and drip dry
down to a mute breakfast
composed of quiet
and last nights liquor
as we came back in
there were people in our room
at first i thought them detectives
dissecting things
to see who had died here
i had forgotten this
was a hotel
and they were only
cleaning up after us
i wanted to stop them
plead
that the sheets were still perfect
that if they clean the bathroom
no one will know
what happened here
someone has to remember
"please
i know
these cigarette burns
by name
i will bury the faucet
let me take the tub
i don't care how
if i have to
i will drag it home by hand"

White wine and blonde hair.
Thats all I saw for months
after the first night you kissed
me goodbye last spring.
You were the first thing
I loved after falling out of love.
One bench.
One river.
One bottle of wine.
Two people.
Eight months of pain
ahead of me
that I could have never imagined
would have ended the way it did.
But for the rest of my life I would
see white wine and blonde hair.

You were fire
but so was I.
When you didn't get your way
you got angry with me.
When I didn't get my way
I got angry with you.
And when we would get over it
I would let you call me
when you were drunk
and run my fingers through
your hair in the dead of the night.
I would read your grocery lists for you.
I would wear your clothes home.
I would let you kiss my shoulders.
I would breathe your toxins in
because you made my flame
a lot stronger.