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And I'm stuck.
I'm stuck on the freckles painted on your skin.
I'm stuck on your gentle carresses of your soft but rough hands, tracing endlessly pointless patterns on my back.
I'm stuck on your raspy voice after you've been laying with me for a while and are beginning to fall sleepy.
But I'm also stuck on the weeks of silence.
I'm stuck on the broken promises.
I'm stuck on the false hope.
I'm stuck on how one year ago, or even five months, you said you loved me to no end.
You said you'd never leave again.
It ended.
You left.
And I'm stuck.
"I think once you've thought about how a person sleeps, how they'd feel pressed up against your back, or your head on their chest, how compatible your bodies would be in the same space of a bed — once you've thought about that, you're ******."
A boyish smile, a frivolous response, lips grazing my neck
Put on a plaid shirt and I’ll take mine off for you
Never ever never ever never ever ever ever
let your pride win
and we can set to sea in a canoe until you can let me in

I’m a sucker for sad eyes. That’s the compassion.
Pair those with thick-rimmed glasses: I’ll believe anything you say --
And I had a puppy once, so it’s a natural reflex to fill the bowl with water and affection and treats of all sorts.
My heart gives and gives and runs dry and quits
My heart quits and quits and floods with isolation and goes back to giving;
Tell me I'm living --
square one, I’m a hamster
You know, exasperation shouldn’t be as normal
as brushing your teeth
But then again, we’re all supposed to floss everyday and I always seem to forget to,
like Well-Being in general as my heart
gives and gives and dries and quits and gives and quits
and quits and quits
on everyone else that exists

You know,
I don’t want a man that fuels a petty cycle as long as a noose wrapped around my neck
I don’t want a man that shrugs off pain because he’s a man
I don’t want a man that eats his feelings or drugs his feelings or explodes his feelings all over the bed

I’ll desire disregard
and not long enough kisses that cut off like a woman’s water breaking midsentence.
A rocket,
An earthquake
I’ll want a fading away so that I can feel like I want something
& I’m a sucker for freckles and hard rock abs and defined biceps.
& british and french and irish accents.
& most of all, a man that doesn’t need me, or even want to see me
all that often

the space to contemplate
Am I Enough
The waver between
I want to be Enough
I don’t want to be Enough
I want to be Enough
No, I don’t want to be Enough
So I can want
Live in ifs and buts and maybes, dazed like a complete and utter

I don’t want a man that gives me a purpose
I don’t want a man that gives me flowers
Okay, I want a man that gives me flowers
and chocolate and good morning kisses and his time

I don’t want a man that snores
But he’s allowed to snore
I don’t want a man that cringes at a menstrual cycle
I don’t want a man that lives halfway across the world or a man next-door that lives in his head 24/7
I don’t want a man that punches his pain through walls
Or mirrors
Or ******* or dickwads or ******* faces

You know,
never ever never ever never ever ever ever
let your pride win
and we can set to sea in a canoe until you can let me in
if you let me in
and I can let you in

I don’t want a man that won’t let me in
I don’t want a man that won’t let love in.
I am sorry that I
wrote so many
Because you don't deserve my best words.
I opened my mouth
and let out the
feathers I've had
hidden in there
since the first morning
I woke up to your
fingers wiggling
on my shoulder,
let the emptiness
settle deep in my
stomach. But I need
reasons to feel whole,
so today I find the
thought that you will
never walk up my
marble staircase again,
never put your hand
on my doorknob again,
never complain about my
pink couch again, never
bat away my fern that
has overgrown its place
again, never spend time
finding my most
ticklish spots again,
never stop in the
kitchen on your way
out to kiss me goodbye
again, never wave at
me with just one finger
the way I so loved
again to be oddly
comforting. I'm glad
you will not be
coming over anymore.
Today I am glad that you
will never look at me that
one way- like I am made
out of gold or something
they scraped off of the
surface of the moon, like
I am every answer to
every question you could
have possibly had- again.
you didn't mean it
you didn't mean it
you didn't mean it
you didn't mean it
Today my makeup
was gone by noon
and I didn't take a
shower and I only
slept for three hours
last night so my
eyes were extra
puffy and I ate too
much at lunch and
had an attitude the
next time we saw
each other afterwards,
but you still gave
me a hug and told me
it was valued at
twenty thousand
hugs and you still
told me I looked
beautiful even
though we both
know it wasn't true.
And I can't
So, thank you.
his eyes are
galaxies of planets
and orbits
and you see stars
so clear you can
map every single

he looks at you
like you're his home
like you're a planet
and you've
wound him deep
into your orbit

because that's what
he needs and he knows it

and he looks at you
like you're the only
thing he's got in the

because you are
you're his home and his planet
you're his galaxy and his stars
Who says I can't write about spock and kirk
I've got your eyes locked on me now & I can feel every drop of the hot pain pouring from them. You are longing for a glance returned but I am busy sending all of my loathing to the boy staring at my hands from across the fire pit. His knees are alligned with mine & she's lounging between them. I'm so sick of hating every inch of him. I swore I'd stop but his lips are bleeding from that bite she gave him and I don't think I can. I'm sitting on your lap and I know just what you're thinking. You're breathing down my neck like you're begging. I'm begging to get out of this life. For all the pain that I distribute, there's gotta be some feeling left for me but I can't ******* find it. . I wish I could love you as hard as I loved him. I wish I could love you as hard as I hate him. I wish with every fiber of my being that I could love you at all. I wish I could feel the butterflies that are floating in you. I could tell that they're making a scene beneath your skin by the eager path your finger tips take up and down my spine. Sweetheart, for the agony I will inevitably feed  you at the end of this, I'm so sorry
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