The English vice,
Some Etonian curse –
Set down in grass
And purple verse,

Lavatory bred
With ransacked blood,
Skin slapping and
With a falling thud –

Takes boys at childhood,
Wishes them away,
With promises of popper fuelled buffets,

And poisons them with
Vice and virus red,
And sees them unmarried
Giving head.

I don’t regret a single thing I am,
I’ve tried it out
And can’t abide the sham –

I’ll **** men
And make them beg for more,
I’ll scrabble for their love upon the floor,

I’ll love men
And love will love me too,
I’ll love for love’s own sake
And when I’m through

I’ll die and I’ll be thankful that your hate
Never made me beg that I was straight.

i was hoping that if you kissed me enough
in places where i thought i was dead

flowers would grow

but i am not a garden
and my dear,
you are far from a dose of fresh water and sunlight

when the boy with musky cologne and hazelnut eyes
shatters your heart into a million pieces

you're going to have to put yourself back together

you're going to have to be your own super hero

you're going to have to love yourself

you are not a wilted tulip
or a shattered porcelain doll

the boy with piercing blue eyes
and a lightning smile
is not going to appear out of the fog
and save you from yourself

stop pushing your dinner
to the edges of your plate
don't make yourself less
so that he will love you more

you deserve so much better
than a tear-stained pillow
and a splitting headache

you hang on his every word
and fall at his feet

spit on his scuffed up shoes and
pick yourself up, sweetheart
pour yourself a mug of black coffee
watch the sun kiss the horizon good morning

you are awake
you are significant

you are not my sky
not my moon
not my air
the smile on your face
is not my sun
and i am not its planet
your freckles are not stars
scattered across the night sky
you are a person
not a sky
you aren't limitless
your being does not surround
my whole world

you are not
my world

i filled myself with
sorrow
but i still felt
empty

i watch the little red seatbelt sign
flicker off
the man next to me is asleep
he has a british accent
and smells like hotel soap
my ears pop
and i look at the clouds
funny how clouds no longer seem
so solid when you get so close to them
(i guess people are like that, too)
a lady in a polyester red blazer
brings me ****** coffee and smiles
i don't think she wants to be here
i smile back
its just me
hotel soap guy (now snoring loudly)
my notebook
and the clouds
this 53 minute flight
is much too short
and i don't want to come down

this morning i woke up
with mascara smudges
and a dry throat
and salty lips
i sat on a hard wooden kitchen chair
as i read an article about the life cycle of a star

i learned that the bigger and brighter the star
the shorter its life,
the brighter it burns
the less time it has before an explosion destroys it
from the inside out
crushing it into pieces
and propelling them into the universe

as i read
i found myself remembering the day you told me you loved me
so much
you could just explode

and i wonder if maybe this whole supernova explosion thing
applies to love
because our love was bright and consuming and fast
and ended in an explosion
that destroyed me from the inside out
crushed me into pieces
that were propelled into the universe