When you disappeared,
you left your letters
here on the bedroom floor.

I found them when I came
to this abandoned home
looking for a ghost story.

I didn't find any ghosts,
but I did find a soul
written into lonely letters,
never sent.

Your laughter will haunt me,
and the way golden threads swept past your smile.
Your laughter will sound through my dreams
behind evil faces and blood painted smiles.

Butterflies will become moths
which will eat my cloth-patched heart
And the glint in your eyes will light fires
to burn me alive.

I am torn

Between the missing and the hurting

The ache you left is still hollow and

I don’t know if time actually heals all wounds or if it just fills them

With one part pretending and seven parts regret and

The mountain of words that is rotting in my belly

Just waiting to erupt from my tired throat

I am torn

Between my heart and my mind

If I don't cage up my thoughts

All they do is wander back to you

My skin tells me that you will be back soon

But this skin has never touched you

It’s been too long

I have since scrubbed you out of my pores and

Washed you away from my sheets

Taken you down from my shelves and

Tucked you away from the light

But when I close my eyes at night they remember

The way your voice tasted when you laughed

I am torn

Between love and resentment

Sappy is sticking to me like a band-aid and

I’m too chicken to rip it off

I’m too stubborn to let myself forget because

If I forget that we existed,

If you never hold my eyes again,

If I let you slip through the cracks,

What will I have

Then

It is a question that I won’t let myself answer

Consider this

Time heals all

Wounds but in the healing

Wounds

sometimes
the world
turns too fast
and makes you dizzy
and deluded
but you like it
because insanity
is better than being
*sane

Flesh is heretic.
My body is a witch.
I am burning it.

Yes I am torching
ber curves and paps and wiles.
They scorch in my self denials.

How she meshed my head
in the half-truths
of her fevers

till I renounced
milk and honey
and the taste of lunch.

I vomited
her hungers.
Now the ***** is burning.

I am starved and curveless.
I am skin and bone.
She has learned her lesson.

Thin as a rib
I turn in sleep.
My dreams probe

a claustrophobia
a sensuous enclosure.
How warm it was and wide

once by a warm drum,
once by the song of his breath
and in his sleeping side.

Only a little more,
only a few more days
sinless, foodless,

I will slip
back into him again
as if I had never been away.

Caged so
I will grow
angular and holy

past pain,
keeping his heart
such company

as will make me forget
in a small space
the fall

into forked dark,
into python needs
heaving to hips and *******
and lips and heat
and sweat and fat and greed.