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ab Dec 2018
why is there a line
between living wholly
and holding on to scraps
of grieving our futures

why am i grieving a life
i haven't lived yet?
or why aren't i filling it
with the kindness of years

well lived? when you realize
your own mortality, does it bite
you as hard as it bites me?
you won't talk about it though.

none of us will.

it's a cycle of awareness
i've barely spoken to you because you
are being reminded day in, day out
that breathing is optional to your body

i am sickeningly aware that
my dosage is wrong
and my blood is pounding in my kidneys
and behind my eyes

you're having a series of bad days
i wonder if your body screams like mine
or if the pain ties you in knots
but i know you don't talk about it.

none of us do.

we pretend we're not sick
and that the ringing in our ears
or the bubbling behind our teeth
doesn't mean anything

"it's fine, i'm used to it"

it's not fine.
it is the ultimate self-denial,
the breakdown of our bodies
things we choose to forget

when you chose me,
you chose somebody who knows pain
somebody who is also afraid
and would sometimes rather give up

but you now know someone else
who is grieving.

are you grieving?

i heard that grief
is just love with
no place to go

and life is one of the greatest loves

through life i can love

no matter how my body
wants to take it from me.
~chronic illness isn't cute, it can rip people apart even if it's "not a big deal"
ab Dec 2018
keeping it light
drums towards 4am
playful and whole

how you see me, i couldn't say
but your fingers trace my back
like words you cannot speak

the words i spoke felt
right in my shaking hands
and you paused to consider them

next to 4am lies overnight
which is where hands wander
and the silence drips in urgency

you wanted to consume what you could
tasting without a mouth but your spirit
handfuls of raspberries cupped in your palms

i woke up to your arm resting
on my waist, i turned from you
in the night (i don't know why)

and while i wrote these words
you called me down, crying prophecies,
lips shaking and eyes swollen red

dark magic, you called it
or the presence of knowing far too much.
naming your spirit guide, i twisted my tongue

i will speak for you tonight
and remind whoever hears
to shake you of your walls

if that is something you might do

without force

i hold you to my lips
~you told me you knew how to speak in tongues without a god
ab Nov 2018
it terrifies me
that i can see a future in your eyes

a future
our future

i can't look at you
when others sit around us
your pull is too strong
and your soul too bright

do i want to see you?
and the way you laugh
and the sparkle in your eye-
what a reflection upon me!

i will not abandon you here
no matter how it overwhelms me

i am watching you fall in love
and i am not used to it-
knowing you want to hold me,
always running on an exhale

tomorrow and the next day
and forever are vivid
nobody annoys me more
or brings question marks to my eyes

quite like you.

i am at odds with a mirror!

this is not a love
that i know anything about
your hands on my face, in
my back pockets, tight on my waist

nobody has ever been gentle before
you hold me like a treasure
(i am not)

i have always been consumed.

i have always insisted
until now

i
did not ask
i
didn't have to
you
melted onto me
you
caught me by surprise

but it is your name (and name alone)
that fits so well
between my lips

and i end up spitting pearls
chewing marble
cradling ivory

(you are not your name,
you are tomorrow)
~why does he remind me of obsidian?
ab Nov 2018
i always expected your hands
to be colder than they are
and your pulse to be steady

but sleepy smiles breathe blue light
and you almost kiss my forehead
nearly interlock fingers

before you catch yourself
and lie there against me
it's my fear through you, i know

i've stopped thinking tomorrow
will be the same as always
there is no longer any "same"

this afternoon i saw the words
"you deserve someone who isn't confused
about how they feel about you"

it made me sick to think
that i'm supposed to be sure
about an uncertain sensibility

you're stronger than i expected
a sea foam green breath of air
youthful but so sure

a shape shifting creature, it seems
to them a staccato exhale
towards me, legato and full

an armful of existence.

i recognize it but do not feel
it besides an ache in my core
reminding me that it is unfinished

the end of which

i do not know

but i can taste in the emptiness
of the evening
~i'm so tired of myself
ab Nov 2018
exhaling the faith i had
in myself is nightly

neither of us allow
conversation to linger
and it's sickening

we're blindly pulling at
bedsheets for answers
neither of us want to acknowledge

i don't know what's happening

each day is different,
i can't tell if my unease
is with the assumptions
or with myself

i think i know what you want
(at least partway)
but my mind wants to resist
losing interest in fingertips and
the mismatched cues

your body tells me you
need the closeness

mine is afraid
of taking this further

i don't want this to become
another bad joke, laughing
in hindsight but doubting
my intentions, i just don't
know myself well enough

and every time i mention
i am unsure, you explain
that you can't tell nights apart

texts at midnight
with questionable wording -
we have to be alone for this
to work out like you'd expect

but at this point all i feel
is a little bit sick and somewhat
concerned for your sake

because i can't be a rock for you

i am overwhelmingly sorry

there's something different
about this time for me

something goes through me
that i cannot interpret

you told me that you try
to live life to the fullest
because you might not have
the fullness that others get from living

i almost wish you hadn't told me

because my eyes start to fill
when i think about you and
i wish i knew what to say

i know what it's like to hurt
so fully and deeply, to doubt
your days and know your clock
to be shorter than some

and to have to pull it together regardless

i want to tell you so badly
that i'm scared too,
that there's so much more
than what i've told you

i think i'm afraid that
we're too much alike
~i don't know what to do about this
ab Oct 2018
i realized i missed the wind
the moment the cold hit my lips

i've been fantasizing nightly
about head against chest
heartbeats keeping time with
the chirping of cicadas outside

i'm not used to missing hipbones
and legs intertwined
and a hand behind my knee

but as far as you're concerned

my weight in your lap,
one hand in my hair
and the other on my hip

very close
(i miss being very close)
your exhale and my inhale
and vice versa
i crave close

i don't know who i am anymore
~oof i just wanna make out with somebody okay?
ab Oct 2018
the hollow of night is fuller than i remember.

your careening towards space
glowing like lighting bugs

if there was a name for stars' tears
it'd be yours, pirouetting on
the tongues of clouds

and folded into the seams
of your jeans (the ones that hug
you like an apathetic lover)

i almost lost the steady pulse
of moonlight you whispered
about into the carpet

i love that **** carpet.

luckily i regained her rhythm!

you and your rhythm - you know
her more closely than my breath
knows the caress of hollow

i am
not part of it, you know,
i don't feel it anymore

no matter what you say.
~no thanks
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