“I messed up.”
I only wish it didn’t
take you this long
to realize.
“Can we talk?”
My whole body aches,
yearning to say yes.
“Are you there?”
Yes, I am here.
“Please answer.”
I surely don’t think
I have that strength.
“I still love you.”
My heart beats,
my stomach churns.
“You were the best
thing that ever
happened to me.”
Funny,
I used to think the same
about you.
“Why aren't you answering?”
“Because for 7 months;
I waited.
You tore me apart,
it felt like I was drowning.
You didn't even look back.
Not once.
How can I just forget that?”
I hit send.
“I’m sorry…”
“I’m sorry too.”*
Except this time,
I don’t hit send.

Self-respect, Self-esteem,
A body,
Sparkling red, ruby love for traveling to new and broader sides of the world,
A pair of lips,
A heart that can tremble when sad, and vibrate with joy when she feels my hands in hers,
Some eyes,
A pretty ******* **** interest in books
Legs, arms or what not,
A round, firm belief system that can open up if support presents itself,
Clothes..or not what do I care?,
An untraceable amount of empathy, that is quilted with smaller amounts of self-interest and a hankering for affection that is not masked and hidden by make-up and trendy fashion,
Hair, long or short, or none...,
A sense of pride when she walks and this somewhat cynical view on how the world works, because she believes that the complex life we live in cannot be generalized to the point that government can regulate it,
A tongue, that can swivel and turn just so she can speak, nothing else, speak her mind, speak her thoughts, but she can never speak enough...
Ears, or an ear, or none because I doubt I'll be talking over her,
A never-ending need to be herself, and the knowing that she is beautiful, beautiful enough to be able to "look like she just woke up", beautiful enough to not need me,
But most importantly beautiful enough to be totally invisible...

Cold sunlight fills my
room today. Coffee
from the night before
stains the corners of
my mouth and I
remember to fold the
laundry. I am not
missed when I touch
the same stained
white linen shirt
for an hour. But
someone said they
thought they heard
me crying from the
upstairs window.
Its lunchtime, and all I
have to eat are
complaints about what
someone else did.
I feel as though I
should pass the sugar,
but that may cause alarm.
I only touch what
I am told. I only touch
what I can control. I
think about eating the
dish soap as I show
you the contents
of my stomach
and see the surprise
on your face.
I think its
evening now.
I lose track of
everything now and then.
So forgive me when I say
I don't remember
your name, and which
room of the house
you stay in.
Quit yelling at me
when I'm face down
in the baby's bath
water.
Please quit assaulting
me with IVs
every time we
take unexpected trips
to the ER.
I hate how cold hospitals
feel. They make my
nose runny.
And that doctor needs
to stop telling me
that I should go
away for awhile.
What does he mean anyway?
I'm watched for
several days after.
I think they like
the way I do
the laundry now.
I cleaned out my
drawer and I
fell in love
again with my
station in life.
Its evening again,
and I can't remember
why I was crying
at all.

there was a boy with a racecar bed who never liked vanilla, but chocolate instead.

there was a boy who liked to climb trees, who watched cartoons, & ate his peas.

there was a boy who liked to run fast, who was too fearless, who was never in last.

there was a boy with big blue eyes, who liked reading books, & stormy skies.

there was a boy with long brown hair, with a piercing here & pink scar there.

there was a boy with cigarette breath, who liked fast cars, & wrote about death.


there was a boy with a deep glassy stare, who cried at night, because life isn't fair.

a few clumpy eye lashes glued by tears to a faded pillow
a book hanging halfway off of the dresser,
page 12
a water spotted wine glass with a faded purple stain
this is what heartbreak looks like