the sky looked very low today
the slate clouds hardly parted
to blue sky at all
and while onlookers
became downcast
i thought to myself
of how maybe
the one true desire
of a cloud
is to reach down
to strain to kiss
this cold hard earth.

sweet, slender, beautiful
the words he picks from the meadow
carefully and purposefully wrapping them in paper
he carries them to the doorstep of my heart
lays them softly on the mat
and knocks on the door

the paint is crisp, the knocker untouched until now
the whole house wakes, the sound reverberating throughout
i scoop up the flowers, arrange them in a vase
place them in the biggest room with the most light,
only the best for my treasure, my first bouquet

she loved quickly
slipping into it like her favorite pair of pajamas
and he's the night
crisp and cool and right.
when the moon rose
with its shining silver light,
she realized for the first time
she loved him.
not just for who he was
and the way his heart changed hers,
but for every shortcoming
every tattered flaw and heavy load,
she loved him.
she wanted him.
and even though they weren't together
she knew that loving him wouldn't end
that every day when she woke
his name would be resting on her lips
and her love would only increase
day by day
until they were together again.

I here,
had to entertain
the air to Paris,
covered in keys
like never before.

a city
twisted
wrapped
folded
into a crisp invitation
beckoning,
beckoning

someone find a ruler and rap this silly fool on the knuckles
she ran through the playground, ran too fast
too quick and too hopeful
there was already someone on the swingset
she thought it was empty (she'd been led to believe so)
now all there is left to do is to sit and watch
up, down, soaring to the sky
no flying for her, someone else got there first.

I ENVY seas whereon he rides,
  I envy spokes of wheels
Of chariots that him convey,
  I envy speechless hills
  
That gaze upon his journey;       
  How easy all can see
What is forbidden utterly
  As heaven, unto me!
  
I envy nests of sparrows
  That dot his distant eaves,         
The wealthy fly upon his pane,
  The happy, happy leaves
  
That just abroad his window
  Have summer’s leave to be,
The earrings of Pizarro         
  Could not obtain for me.
  
I envy light that wakes him,
  And bells that boldly ring
To tell him it is noon abroad,—
  Myself his noon could bring,         
  
Yet interdict my blossom
  And abrogate my bee,
Lest noon in everlasting night
  Drop Gabriel and me.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86).  Complete Poems.  1924.

Part Three: Love

XXXVI

MY worthiness is all my doubt,
  His merit all my fear,
Contrasting which, my qualities
  Do lowlier appear;
  
Lest I should insufficient prove         
  For his beloved need,
The chiefest apprehension
  Within my loving creed.
  
So I, the undivine abode
  Of his elect content,       
Conform my soul as ’t were a church
  Unto her sacrament.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86).  Complete Poems.  1924.

Part Three: Love

II

YOU left me, sweet, two legacies,—
A legacy of love
A Heavenly Father would content,
Had He the offer of;
  
You left me boundaries of pain         
Capacious as the sea,
Between eternity and time,
Your consciousness and me.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86).  Complete Poems.  1924.

Part Three: Love

XXXV

PROUD of my broken heart since thou didst break it,
  Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,
Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it,
  Not to partake thy passion, my humility.

i was once told
that i would meet
someone
who would leave me
speechless
words would not capture his
smile
phrases could not express his
eyes
sentences do not share his
joy

i was once told
that upon meeting this
person
i would start writing
poetry

how right they were.

i wish you would simply talk to me
tell me about the mad dialogue in your head
let me fight your demons alongside you
we can put those worries to bed

give me some insight to your wrestling
allow me to pour peace into your mind
this road isnt one you have to walk alone
i'm here; ill kiss every scar i find

im strong. i can take it.

let me in.

what i wouldnt give for a little time machine
something that whizzed and buzzed and hummed
that swept me back into your arms
a little ship that slips through the cracks
between the days on the calendar upon my wall
a sweet little rhyme that turns back the clock
a word or ten giving me back the time i lost

what i wouldnt give for a little time machine
a chance to hear you, a chance to feel it all again,
maybe to say some different things
or perhaps not to have said anything at all.

it's 2 AM.  you're sitting on the floor of your kitchen wearing the last shirt that still carries his smell.  there's an empty ben and jerry's next to you, mascara smudged down your face and stained in your finger's prints.  

     anything, i'd do anything for this pain to simply subside.  i just want
            this pain to go away.  please.

when we have this pain laid heavily our hands, especially when it's all that's left of our relationship, we say we want it to dissipate, but i don't think we do.  i think we're lying to ourselves.  if we really wanted the pain to go away, we'd erase his voicemail, throw out the tshirt, delete all the text messages, hide the journal punctuated with his name.  we'd avoid every sappy love song and every break up song.  his name would fade a little with every action, every step in the direction away from the failure of that relationship.  

but this isn't what we do.

we sit in his tshirt.  we say his name over and over again between midnight sobs.  we reread and reread and reread every last text.  we listen to the voicemail with shaking hands and a shattering heart.  we listen to the songs we sang in the car with him.  

saying these things hurt doesn't even begin to explain it.  

it's like your heart is on steroids and you can feel it pumping 24/7,
like your whole body is pumping with the loss of him.  
it's like someone put magic contacts in your eyes, and you see his face, his smile, his essence everywhere, reminding you of all you lost.
imagine pouring lead into your veins; it's that kind of weight.
it's like someone took a highlighter to your life and is illuminating for you in the brightest yellow all the times he would have been there, as if you didn't already know.

if you've ever seen an apple dipped in liquid nitrogen and thrown on the ground, shattering into a trillion pieces, that is a very good visual for how this feels.

i think we hold onto pain so tightly because it validates our relationship, friendship, experience, or whatever it was that has caused it.  everything in you hurts because it happened; it wasn't in our heads or our fantasy or our dream.

it was real.

but it's over now.  the good memories, the good days, the good hugs, the good smiles, are fading more and more with every breath.  our pain is all we have.  we aren't over that relationship yet; we don't want to, we can't say goodbye to that person or the end to the story.  

we try to battle the inevitable fade.  we grasp tightly onto the pain.  we aren't going to feel loved or made special or pursued by that person anymore, all that's left is pain.  all we have left of him is pain.  so we take what we can get - or rather - what we've been given.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86).  Complete Poems.  1924.

Part Three: Love

XLVI

HE fumbles at your spirit
  As players at the keys
Before they drop full music on;
  He stuns you by degrees,
  
Prepares your brittle substance         
  For the ethereal blow,
By fainter hammers, further heard,
  Then nearer, then so slow
  
Your breath has time to straighten,
  Your brain to bubble cool,—         
Deals one imperial thunderbolt
  That scalps your naked soul.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86).  Complete Poems.  1924.

Part Three: Love

XLII

TO lose thee, sweeter than to gain
  All other hearts I knew.
’T is true the drought is destitute,
  But then I had the dew!
  
The Caspian has its realms of sand,         
  Its other realm of sea;
Without the sterile perquisite
  No Caspian could be.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86).  Complete Poems.  1924.

Part Three: Love

XLV

I ’VE got an arrow here;
  Loving the hand that sent it,
I the dart revere.
  
Fell, they will say, in “skirmish”!
  Vanquished, my soul will know,         
By but a simple arrow
  Sped by an archer’s bow.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86).  Complete Poems.  1924.

Part Three: Love

XLVII

HEART, we will forget him!
  You and I, to-night!
You may forget the warmth he gave,
  I will forget the light.
  
When you have done, pray tell me,         
  That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you’re lagging,
  I may remember him!

the puzzle seems scattered
my picture is lost
id resigned to being partial
then my path you crossed

the pieces are coming together
my fragments fit
id been broken for so long
theres light in this pit

i look up and i see
you too are half, broken
i feel it, i know it, but
those words stay unspoken

it may be long in the distance
or perhaps only next week
when will this puzzle
finally be complete?

Emily Dickinson (1830–86).  Complete Poems.  1924.

Part Three: Love

XXIX

THE ROSE did caper on her cheek,
Her bodice rose and fell,
Her pretty speech, like drunken men,
Did stagger pitiful.
  
Her fingers fumbled at her work,—       
Her needle would not go;
What ailed so smart a little maid
It puzzled me to know,
  
Till opposite I spied a cheek
That bore another rose;         
Just opposite, another speech
That like the drunkard goes;
  
A vest that, like the bodice, danced
To the immortal tune,—
Till those two troubled little clocks         
Ticked softly into one.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86).  Complete Poems.  1924.

Part Three: Love

XIII

THERE came a day at summer’s full
Entirely for me;
I thought that such were for the saints,
Where revelations be.
  
The sun, as common, went abroad,         
The flowers, accustomed, blew,
As if no sail the solstice passed
That maketh all things new.
  
The time was scarce profaned by speech;
The symbol of a word         
Was needless, as at sacrament
The wardrobe of our Lord.
  
Each was to each the sealed church,
Permitted to commune this time,
Lest we too awkward show         
At supper of the Lamb.
  
The hours slid fast, as hours will,
Clutched tight by greedy hands;
So faces on two decks look back,
Bound to opposing lands.         
  
And so, when all the time had failed,
Without external sound,
Each bound the other’s crucifix,
We gave no other bond.
  
Sufficient troth that we shall rise—         
Deposed, at length, the grave—
To that new marriage, justified
Through Calvaries of Love!

I envy not in any moods
         The captive void of noble rage,
         The linnet born within the cage,
That never knew the summer woods:

I envy not the beast that takes
         His license in the field of time,
         Unfetter'd by the sense of crime,
To whom a conscience never wakes;

Nor, what may count itself as blest,
         The heart that never plighted troth
         But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;
Nor any want-begotten rest.

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
         I feel it, when I sorrow most;
         'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

it's a blind drive down a highway
a symphony played in the dark
a warzone filled with landmines
waiting to tear me apart

it's a freefall with no parachute
a bicycle with no brakes
a line cast out in deep waters
waiting until something takes

its a river rapid with no paddle
a rocky mountain climb
a dive in the ocean with no tank
will i ever call you mine?

screaming screaming
all this time
we were screaming
deep under the pile
of **** they expect from us
this mound of emptiness
only pushes us further into the ground
and they wonder why there are
so many teens
depressed
doing drugs and
ending their life

they cant understand us
they wont take the time
they panic
instead of addressing
this problem they find
their solution is what they know
the comfort of the *****  
piling more tasks
upon the rotting carcass
of our mentality we are losing
this war

he calls me beautiful
sweet and attractive
he tugs at my heartstrings
he sighs and he holds tightly

my heart is pounding, there's not enough oxygen
thin air getting the best of me


but then he back pedals
he seems reluctant and wary

where did those words go
where are my "i miss you"s, my "i wish you were here"s
vanished, thin air has the upper hand

britain
the straight satisfaction
the only good thing I wanted
I felt a joy
imagining
me going out to join them
and
i got a coat on.

the thing is,



i'm addicted to him, despite all the pain that comes along.

once again, jesus came.  

he did everything when i could do nothing.

he set me free

and this freedom,

it tastes so good.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86).  Complete Poems.  1924.

Part Three: Love

VI

IF you were coming in the fall,
I ’d brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.
  
If I could see you in a year,         
I ’d wind the months in *****,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.
  
If only centuries delayed,
I ’d count them on my hand,         
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen’s land.
  
If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I ’d toss it yonder like a rind,         
And taste eternity.
  
But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time’s uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

it's so strange how different my life was a week ago.  talking to you was regular.  expected.  normal.  routine.  

but now there's nothing.  

reverberating silence is my constant companion, making the moments you used to fill seem like much deeper chasms than they were before our paths crossed.

today, the first time i've cried over you,
wasnt nearly what i expected -
burning, heavy tears falling like a hurricane.
instead they ran slowly, almost reluctant to fall.
delicately dripping down they came.
frustration welled up, along with my tears -
pitiful sobs held nothing of my desire,
only increasing my burden of weakness,
power stripped away when i surrendered it to you

imagine a note
followed by two,
a steady melody
latching me to you

as it progresses,
the mystery grows
i never thought
id be compared to a rose

a few chords pass
it's hard to discern
where longing ends
and into loving it turns

there's hope in this song
echoing til heaven's descent
that empty place in my heart
is no longer for rent

five days.
how did so much crumble so quickly
like an old wall destroyed by one loose stone,
it took so little to break us down.
five days since you last said you missed me.
longer than that since i felt your proximity
all i've felt for a dozen days is distance,
seas and oceans of separation
five days.

five days.
this pain wouldnt be so wicked
had you simply voiced your worries,
coaxed your chords to confess your confusion.
but instead you abruptly dropped me, like
a searing *** on tender skin.
couldnt bring yourself to trust me or my heat.
laying on the floor, ive been waiting,
five days.

looking back at days in the past, i laid broken and pouting
not understanding my lot, in fact refusing to try
i kept bitterness and self pity around my wrists
i called my life a desert, eternally dry

i resented my God, my king, my creator
his love was a joke, his sacrifice a jest
i ignored my surroundings, gleaming in darkness
i focused instead on what i thought was best

i wanted a soulmate, a mad love affair
i desperately pushed, one after another, into my mold
my cycle of cries was, "here, now, this one!"
i turned from my God when my life remained cold



looking back at days in the past, i laid broken and pouting
my human eyes couldn't see, they wouldn't look up ahead,
let me press fast forward, oh let me skip to the end
but He wrote the book, my chapter He'd read

He heard my plea, and carefully wrote
He began to teach me, day after day, His ink is gold, pure and true
the best stories are the ones that take us the furthest
He meticulously etched, an enchanting vision he drew

i'm still chapters behind, who knows how long this book is?
but my pieces aren't broken, i'm actually quite whole
my Savior is with me, His love, my hope
this peace is surreal, an anthem for my soul.

look for me when the moon uncloaks
when it slips out from its hiding place

ill watch for you when the sun wakes the day
when it calls gently to my eyes

the clouds will sing of your love for me
the stars will perpetually whisper of mine

the sky is a chorus, a celestial ballad
our circadian rhythm of love

"all that i know is

i don't know how to be something you miss."*

taylor swift / last kiss

that loathsome friend envy,
it fills me to the brim as i watch
the girls who flit from boy to boy
easily going with the flow
they've no adherent, they've no strings
compliments and physicality and dates have no weight
ten thousand vaults, ten thousand walls
their hearts are kept safe

but me? no, im not that at all
i dont fall, i plunge, topple, and drop
my love knows no shallow waters
its twenty thousand leagues or none for me
every glance and flattery and embrace is inscribed
my heart becomes a masterpiece authored by you

so dont come to my heart, knocking with care
dont sweep me up with the clouds at our feet
dont listen or laugh or linger or lure
if you dont intend on plunging with me,
twenty thousand leagues under the sea

if you didn't think you could, why did you try?

why did you come into my world and sweep me off my feet?

you've dropped me now, im falling from the sky

if you dont plan on catching me, just walk down the street.  

say it short, and leave me be,

ill learn to guard myself more carefully.

i hate that i sleep with my phone's sound all the way up just in case you call

i hate that i always have one eye on the top right corner of my laptop, waiting to see if a message from you will appear

i hate that i gave you a special ringtone and trained my heart to leap at its tune, even when it's playing on someone else's phone

i hate my call history because it's filled with your name accompanied by dates increasingly too long ago

i hate that i showed you my favorite songs and now all i hear is your voice carrying the tune

i hate that my mind can't stay off the subject of you, that even my subconscious dream world casts your shadow

i hate that the definition of words now carry imprints of your lips, somehow weighted by our conversation

i hate that i see your smiling face when the cherry blossoms blow in the wind and imagine the joy you'd find in its petals

i hate that good photography makes me think of you and i immediately want to send it your way

i hate that every pristine sky and heavenly display begs me to send you a photo

i hate that i showed you my black ink smudges, the dark little secrets i keep hidden inside

i hate that i've known you for five weeks and i've already fallen. but now it seems you either fell down a different *****, or chose to keep climbing this precarious mountain, while i plummeted, ignoring the signs that read, "danger, cliff close ahead".

we laid there in silence
the empty air swayed
my breath and yours
back and forth like a braid
words were not needed
simple presence was enough
i watched and i gazed
i took note of your scruff
sleep pecked at our eyes
our hearts kept it away
we'll wait for the sunshine
poking through, a heavenly ray
the farewell is imminent
but it wont be forever
so for now i will go
holding tight to my ember