Pelvic bone to pelvic bone
We are fused together.
Some type of warped conjoined twin syndrome.
Chin to chin.
Lip to lip to lip to lip.
Our lips are touching but we are not kissing.
Cheek to cheek.
Fingertips scarping against fingertips.
There’s a theory in physics
That states
You are never really touching anything,
Only the space in between.
Sometimes I think we are the very definition of this theory.
We push closer
But we never touch.
I cannot feel your kiss pressing up against my neck.
I cannot feel your teeth tugging at the skin on my collarbone.
I cannot feel your saliva intermingling with my own.
You are sitting next to me on the couch
But I do not feel
The bend your body makes.
I do not feel the dip of cushion.
Your hand is nothing more than
An anchor keeping me grounded on Earth.
We are perpendicular lines
But it feels like we’re parallel

She was in love with the road and the music
It was her home
Underneath the lights, amidst the noise
Her soul was dark and free
She was a drifter, one stage and city to the next
He was in love with her
The way she could pour herself into an eighty five minute set
How she could move a moshing crowd to tears
She was his home
Her smiles, her lips, her messy hair
The way she'd kick her laces boots and watch her feet as he told her he loved her
She fell hard, he fell harder
They fell in love to the beat of a ragtag eighties grunge song and things just never changed

Do you remember our first kiss? I do.
Watching the time tick down in your
Daddy's car. At exactly midnight you
leaned over and made your move. Do you still think about it? . . . Cuz I do.

Walkin away from you was the hardest
thing I ever did.
Having to go on lonely knowing you'd get over it. Do you remember the few times when you spoke my name so tenderly? I know its hard for you to remember me. I hate you but I, love you- I do.

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.

I’m lost and no one is looking.
I’m incapable of breath.
I’m a horrendous matinee,
To which no one bought a ticket.
The vacant audience’s presence is accusing;
Disappointed and Unimpressed.

But my matinee croons on,
Waiting for a chance to be adored;
Loved or Treasured.
Each scene filled with the hope;
That an admirer will step forth,
From the outskirts of the empty theatre.

But the strangers on the streets stroll on,
While I become a stranger to the stage;
Unsure of a direction or dialoge I will falter
And fail.

Twenty plus miles away seems miniscule to those who have never felt love so existential and unconditional.
Sometimes people just fall further and further even if they can see the person on the lower end has no intent on catching them and wills they drown in someone else's ocean.
But you... You taught me how to swim in any body of water I had happened upon and I keep choosing yours, hoping to reach the heart of this ocean eventually.
Even as the ebb and flow pull me in multiple directions willing I stay away your face is all I see, your gentle voice is all I hear, your emotions are all I feel.
I am becoming one with you, as every intimate detail of your soul is etched into my brain and deemed something of the utmost importance.
People beg I come back to shore where I belong so I can discover a different vacation spot, but I refuse to quit you.
Until your storm occurs and murders me, until it washes me away for good- this is where I will remain.
Because I refuse to quit you, and with you I will stay as a permanent ornament to this specific ocean. History can not be destroyed, it can only be created.