it's like scratching
at the top of the coffin,
splintered hands,
shaky knees,
& shallow breath-

i'm climbing my way
out of this mess,

but once i sift through
all the soil
and finally land
with my feet on solid ground,
you're waiting in the graveyard
with the same shovel
that buried me in the first place-

and this goes on and on and on,
and the blood on your skin
will someday stain
from all the self-inflicted pain.
and this goes on and on and on,
and your teeth
will someday chip
from all the forced silence.
and this goes on and on and on-

til my elbows shatter
from pushing the weight
and my wrists break
from holding on so tight
and my throat begins
to bleed from screaming
your name,
begging you to save me.

but you will never be the one
who digs me out
when i'm in too deep
to catch my breath.

you will always be
the boy with the shovel,
and me...
the girl with the concrete feet...

there is something about a really big storm
that makes you feel so connected to earth
and to the strangers inhabiting it.
it's like, we're all in this together.
in this moment,
we're all kind of scared,
but we also feel this unique warmth
that only storms bring.
that warmth that collects in your chest
and then drizzles down your entire body,
slow like molasses,
until it reaches your toes
and we are reflective.
there's nothing like clouds parting
like flood gates,
releasing beautiful danger
over the roofs of our homes
and the windshields of our cars
to remind us of love or love lost.

I miss you in this moment
even though you are sitting right beside me.
you're not mine anymore.
a storm brings closeness, though.
it's like all the space between
washes away
with whatever pieces of the earth
found their way into the gutter.
everything kind of stops.
we are here for each other right now.
at least until it passes.
I want to comfort you.
I know you want to comfort me too
because that's just what storms do.
so I am twisting your hair
between my fingers,
as gently as my strong hands know how,
and I am looking at your neck,
and the side of your face,
all of the marks the world has left on you-
the places where you've bled,
and grown,
and stretched,
and shrunk-
the tear stains
and laugh lines
and deep pores
collecting dirt,
the indents
permanently left
along your temples
from 22 years of glasses.
you are beautiful
in the haze of violent rain.
everyone is.

I've always took notice
to the way people become so soft,
and kind,
and forgiving
when Mother Nature
is at her angriest-
like we are children
who've just been scolded.
she came down
and whispered in our ears,
"I can take this all from you
in a cold second."
and we believed her.

storms are when we count our blessings.
I counted you a few more times
than I'd like to admit
as the street lights
wrapped their yellow arms
around your chin
and then sunk into your lap,
again, and again.

When I was a child
the sun was my soulmate.
we'd dance across the yard,
barefoot and laughing.
in this moment, though,
I fear the sun.
I fear that when he comes
and settles the storm,
I will disassociate again.
I will feel a sturdy distance
between myself
and the things I love most,
like you.

I'm right, of course,
because that's what happened.
I feel so locked inside myself again,
and here I am,
one o'clock
on a Sunday morning,
wondering if I'll ever be
anything more than scared and lonely.
I haven't been in the past.

but I am trying this time.
I always say that I am,
so who can trust me?

but I feel it in my kneecaps,
my collarbones,
my knuckles,
and my elbows.
I'm sore with radiating power
pushing its way
from my core to my exterior.

something is stretching inside of me,
and pretty soon
the skin I'm in now
is going to burst
and evaporate into thin air
and I am going to be draped
in brand new flesh,
unbroken by speeding time
and undeserving love.
pretty soon I am going to be brave.
pretty soon I am going to
dance barefoot in my backyard
with the sun
and I am going to feel
like I deserve the vitamins
that will pulsate into my feet.
I won't feel like energy
from the ground
and the sky
are wasted on me,
a stagnant creature,
crying for no reason.

pretty soon,
I'll stop crying.
I'll be whole.
and safe.
and fulfilled.
I feel it.

there is a healer
who's traveled up
and down mountains,
through lakes,
under, and over bridges,
and it's knocking on doors
right now
looking for me
and when it gets here,
my chest is gonna split open
like an avocado
and let it in.

I am going to be connected,
even when Mother Nature
isn't throwing a tantrum.

I am going to come back to my body
and I am going to look
through my big eyes
and I am going to see the world
for what it is
and I am going to laugh
so hard my ribs
are going to rattle
inside my stomach
and I am going to mean it.

the darkness is lifting.
the sun is coming.
I am strength.
I am wisdom.
I am power
and I have not given up.

i've been watering dead plants for so long
i hardly remember what they look like
when they're alive,
and maybe this means i'm
losing my mind,
but the truth is,
we all want a miracle.

i think i've just been
counting too much
on mine.

i wanna believe
that my love & loyalty alone
can turn a withered pile of
prickly dirt into a strong
and stunning cactus,
once again.

i wanna believe
that if i count you every
time i count my blessings,
you'll bless me with your presence,
but it feels a bit like a child's
impossible dream.

i am a dreamer though,
even in a one bedroom apartment
with creaky doors and leaky faucets.

so, i'll continue to do these things
that don't make sense to you.
i'll wish you a happy birthday,
just cause i mean it.
& i'll visit your mom in the hospital,
so she knows she's never alone.
and i'll give money to your friends'
"gofundme" page,
because you know,
i want ryan to get well too.
and i'll pray for your safety,
even though i have no religion.

and i'll sit here,
on my bathroom floor
thinking about dead roses
while you lie with your
face in a pillow
that's forever stained
with the scent of my shampoo.

and i'll hope that you still love that smell
as much as you did when you still loved me.
and i'll hope that your heart isn't
prickly and pathetic.
i'll hope that it's
stunning and strong
like a cactus.

and if they call me crazy,
you can tell them they're right.

but i'd rather be the one who
waters a dead plant,
than be the one who misses
the magic only found
in fallen petals.

there were soap suds on the living room floor the day i got the call
it's such an insignificant detail, but i can't get it out of my head
some nights i dream of clouds
that slowly morph into soap suds
and a blue sky
that slowly morphs into hardwood
and i am melting into sheets,
melting wide awake

i was dripping wet all over the couch
in a pink bath robe
sipping whiskey from a mason jar
that you left on my bedroom floor

i heard his voice break
when he said your name the second time
and i tried to pretend
my heart wasn't breaking to the tone of his decline

i broke a nail fastening my seat belt
the following day,
and cried so hard
i had to pull over

it's the little things in grief
that hit the hardest

you are faking
just fine
until you're not
and then one day
you look into a mirror
that you are passing by,
and you are struck by
the tragedy in your eyes
and you pray you're the only one
who can see it
but you know you're not

dark red circles
under tired brown
and white hope,
you are veins
extended
you are ribs
caving
and smeared
mascara
you are
pink lips
and
pale skin
and you are
dull
in a city
full of
magic

and that makes you angry-
angry is a new feeling
so it knocks the air
from your lungs
as you pretend to type
on a black keyboard
in a tan office building

you swear some
invisible force
is pressing it's elbow
to your chest
and you're not sure
if you want it to
let up

you were
vibrant in the night,
lime green
and electric blue hues
illuminating my pillow cases

this place is gray-
when did the fog
dim the street lights,
seep into the coffee shops,
wrap it's calloused hands
around studio apartments,
and lines to registers
in grocery stores
for miles?

or was it there all along-
you, with bright yellow words
and hot pink kisses,
were perhaps only a distraction,
a white light
in a sea of navy blue darkness-
when they came to shut you out
the colorlessness
of weekday living
between subway stations
and bus terminals
was suddenly visible
to the naked eye?

for the first time, maybe
i was just another
naked eye

this is the terminal
the point of connection
and disconnection
this is the terminal
the irreversible end
of something greater
than whiskey in a mason jar
this is the terminal
im waving goodbye to something,
as it exits the city,
im not sure what
but i know
it's never coming back

i wanna be empty, again
radio silence
like driving under a bridge
when it's pouring rain

not the kind of "empty"
people use to describe their sadness

i wanna be empty, again
radio silence
like walking miles
down hill
in the winter
after a fight
with your mother

void of everything

ringing ears,
numb hands,
still feet,
heavy eyes,
black & white specs floating
on a grey television screen,
mute of sound,
silence
draped in silence

i'll find a haven again
if i just keep running
so i'm exhausted
to say the least,
and i haven't showered
in three days
and i am chalk full
of adderall cause
i've been having trouble
staying awake

nowhere is safe
and i'm afraid to stand still
for too long,
afraid i'm in the spot
where the bomb
is about to drop

people dropped to their knees
and let the wind take their arms
like flags in the sky
in front of a black stage
for the grateful dead

i don't think i've
ever known a love
like the dead heads

i want to care
about something
so much it makes
my stomach turn,
and my hands shake

i want to give a ****,
i want something to stand for,
and something to drop to the floor for

but i can't shake this nihilism
from my tired bones

yea, i skip rocks
down the river
but i don't care
where they go

this is meaningless
even if i bleed for it

no matter how hard
i bite down,
my teeth might
chip but i can't
seem to swallow it

i just don't give a ****
but it's not cause i was
raised in this crust punk haze

it's just that my brain
doesn't work the way
the brains of lovers do

i took the upswing
and slammed into a wall
cause i wasn't angry enough
to stop it
and i wasn't smart enough
to make anything of it

i had gravity
on my side,
could've finally
known something beautiful
but i choked on the chance
and spit out the car window

now i can feel the foundation
shaking beneath my feet
and i know im gonna fall
through the concrete
any minute,
back into the soil
graveyard of
half smoked cigarettes
and empty water bottles

cause whiskey isn't momentum
and vines strong enough
to pull humans out
of hell
aren't made up
of bad house shows,
****** up friends,
shaking hands,
or hot apartments
full of smoke
and silence

so i guess ill sleep
an other night
cold, wet, and uncomfortable
i guess ill sleep
an other night
six feet ******* under

everything is poetry, in the same way that nothing is
and i'd be lying if i said i didn't hate him more each time we fell in love
and green eyes are my favorite but his are brown
so brown are my favorite but only when he's around

i liked falling off of swings when i was 8,
i was the kid pushing my feet against
the ground just a little harder
than the rest
it wasn't because i liked
the burn of the mulch as
i came crashing through it,
i just liked the way time
kind of stopped
just before i dropped

and that's how i grew up,
chasing after feelings,
not people,
feelings,
not things

you were a feeling in the same way that i felt nothing with you in my bed
and i told all my secrets to your neck
but you never heard a single one

and as time went by
i got younger every day
and you get older constantly,
i can taste it on your coffee lips,
but that's okay
i always liked the way
coffee tastes so bitter it's sweet

I want to pull my secrets
out of every past lover's skull
so that when I show you my scars,
your's are the only eyes they know

I want to peel my kisses
off the lips of every person
who ever looked me in my teeth
and whispered,
"come a little closer"
so that you are the only
nervous boy on earth
that knows how my voice tastes

Cause I belong to you
and I always have,
Even when I was wrapped around
his rib cage
and you were parallel,
twenty miles away,
twisting her hair lightly in your palm,
I was waiting for you
and you were waiting for me

February nights rip me into pieces
So when I'm scattered randomly
across your bedroom floor,
I hope you look down
at my knee caps
and collar bones
& think about how much you
enjoyed doing puzzles at
the small, cherry wood
coffee table in your parents'
living room when you were ten
And I hope you put my tongue
back in my mouth
and my eyes back in my skull
And you breathe your
cinnamon & whiskey
breath all down my throat
until I remember how to
find air on my own

I watched my best friend's eyes well up
with the burning words of his ex girlfriend;
I watched her trickle down his cheek bones
& all over his blue t-shirt;
I tried to wipe her away with my finger tips,
But I was too late.

She had stained him,
From head to toe he was drenched in her
And even if I had caught her
Before she even touched his skin,
I don't think I would've been able to keep him clean
Because my hands were ***** too
With the grotesque words
Of my ex boyfriend

So we'll just sit here,
An other year unchanged
A deck of cards
& a bottle of whiskey
In the space between our knee caps;
Staring into each other's pain,
Strewn recklessly over my bedroom floor

We'll just sit here,
Filthy together for an other year
Of scrubbing the wasted passion from our bones

You want me to let you in?
To call off the guards?
To let down the walls?
You,
So passionately,
want me to
stop fighting

so I will.



I will fall violently,
unadulteratedly
& freely
in love with you.

Just like you want me to.

And you'll lie in my bed all day,
while I try on eight different
dresses for my cousin's wedding

And when you leave,
I'll watch my skin shrink
as I lie
paralyzed
in my bathtub,
day dreaming
about the two small freckles
under the left corner
of your bottom lip

And the first time we argue
& you spend three whole days
angrily ignoring my calls,
I'll chain smoke
until my throat burns

And when you
finally decide
to show up at my door
with a vanilla latte
and apologetic eyes,
I will melt
pathetically
into your collarbones
and all down your spine

And then we will sit
Indian style
across from each other
on my kitchen floor
& you'll tell me in
excruciating
detail all your past lovers'
infidelities and unkindnesses
that led you to fight with me

And that will be it

That will be
the exact moment
when I will know,
without a doubt
that I am
completely & entirely
******

And I will cry into
your neck,
knowing for sure
that from then on
even the most passive,
nonspecific
mention of your name
will make my stomach float up
into my chest
& jolt back down
into my abdomen
like I'm falling
from the highest point
on a roller coaster

And no amount of
poetry,
whiskey,
midnight drives,
nicotine,
house shows
or therapy
will make it stop
or even distract
my soul from it for
a ******* split second

Because
once I allow myself
to love,
I love until I break &
then I keep on loving
until I'm nothing

And I just don't know
if your conscience
is strong enough
to carry the weight
of my shattered heart

So...
tell me Hazel Eyes,
just how bad
you actually want me
to pick up that phone

this morning i noticed
in my bathroom mirror,
five small bruises on my left hip,
each one a galaxy of its own:
purple freckles over
black space,
navy blue swirls
under yellow stars...
and i thought
how pleasant of a human
i'd be
if you would
paint them
with your finger tips
each night
so that they never fade..
so that i never have to face
a day without feeling like
i have shooting stars
and comets beneath my skin

you lift me by the hips
onto your kitchen sink
and stand between
my knees,

you lay
your laughing lips into
my left collarbone
and i wrap my
arms around your neck

your hair is soft,
and auburn

i bury my nose
into your scalp

suddenly
i am inhaling a
very familiar scent,
strawberries & cream,
a bottle for 3.99
i bought
on sale last week...

i pull away
in completely fabricated,
purposefully unrealistic awe,
"buy your own
******* shampoo"

your only response is to
throw your long arms
over my shoulders and
pull me into your chest
until i could hardly
catch a breath

an annoying beeping sound
brings us both back to
earth with a startling realization,
it's a monday
& the coffees done

i know life will not
always be easy,
i know love
will never be a solution,
& money will never flow
like kisses to my palms
but it's 7 AM
and
my ribs are already sore
from all the laughter,

they will ache all day
and each movement
that conjures discomfort
will remind me
of all the beauty in pain

so if this is playing house,
let me play
at least until
i've outgrown the game