I didn't feel the flutter of your feet,
I didn't hear your cry,
But I felt you,
Our hearts shared the same chords,
You are the only one who's ever touched my soul,
I don't know how this happened,
It breaks my heart to know I'll never see your sweet face,
Or hear you sweet little laugh,
I can only imagine your beauty,
Or the way you'd play with your daddy,
I don't know why things happened like this,
My heart will never beat in the right tune,
Because I never got to have you.

Again once more I feel paralyzed through my bones,
fatigue talks hold and rests me in the stone.
The weakness and delicacy welcomes themselves home,
above me they scream "We have greatly grown!".
Before long, they nestle themselves back into their almighty thrones.
Powerless against these cruel foes,
I buckle down to their gruesome toes.

The day you leave daisies in my pocket
is the first time I wore proper pajamas.
Right-handed scissors paint
with matching lip gloss,
attempting to stick words together.
My hands lay limply next to a wine glass
containing nothing but grape juice,
unhappy compromises.

Everything felt pinched and blue.

Last night I decided to write stories on my skin
with little holes in the paper,
nineteen socks under my bed.
I tried to remember the rain,
why it was lovely.
I ended up with wet shoes,
the smell of deserted food court
and secrets billowing from cigarette stubs.

Arizona breezes
carry the taste of hushed whispers,
making phone calls in the place of poetry.
The idea of pheasants,
tiny wrists
black ink crisscrossing,
hurried ‘X’s overlapping.
Flowers grow from stagnant air

Minted antibiotic breaths.

Heart monitors printed in newspapers,
your armada of pre-sharpened pencils
accidentally drip into coffee mugs.
Autopsies knit together,
authors of the curve of your spine.
You keep myths in glass jars
with intricate wire lids.
Why do we question the recipe for battle scars?

I hate because he broke my heart.
I hate what I had to give up for him.
I hate because it's easier than dealing with
Regret
Loss
Confusion
Blame
Emptiness
I hate because I know he will hurt me.
I hate because I know I will hurt him.
I hate because I'm jealous.
I hate because I still love you,
And hate is the only thing strong enough to mask love.