I had taken two steps farther again hoping you would notice the distance, but this time I fell off a cliff screaming for you to ask me to stay . I was floating, wondering, “if I died when I hit the ground would the bruises of my past hurt more than being gone?” I couldn’t decide so I just let myself fall. I was looking up to every sharp edge of my life that I had created as my body twirled through the air. I’m not sure why I couldn’t form any thought but “I wish I would have worn shoes, I always hated that my second toe was longer than my first”. Next thing I could remember was you shaking me. I could not figure out when I had reached the ground. You kept saying “please stay”, it was as if your voice was on some sort of prerecord loop. I had needed to hear those words for so long that when you finally spoke them I didn’t understand. How could you not keep your eyes open long enough to see I had been slowly walking away for quite some time. Why did it take the distant thud of my body hitting the ground to catch your attention? You had to realize; you are my only home. I had hoped for so long that you would remember to repair the roof and paint the walls that shade of yellow we loved. But the only bedroom that wasn’t falling apart was the one where you laid your head as you dreamt, and I wept.

you were the ******* one
her heart bleeds
she paints every stone blood red
stains every mirror black
kaleidoscope colors are not a metaphor
about the beauty of change anymore
they are the personification of a moment
slipping away with a single twist
you were supposed to be the ******* one
why couldn't we grow together
let our colors bleed together
she never knew the terror of changing colors
she never saw these shades
she can't even create these shades without dying
you are a complete stranger
the only mirror not painted black is pointed to you
a stranger
the kaleidoscope mirrors shatter
the sharpest and most bold colors flying from your tounge
all of them shades of red
all of them stolen from her
all of them dead

writing took a backseat the moment I recognized how strongly it made me feel something

          —I stopped mid sentence

trembling, she buttoned up each catch to hide the melody burned into her skin

my ramona

set free too long ago
a song sent to be heard only in twilight

your face has new lines — none of which sing
these are straighter, without rhythm
you have been reconstructed into a sketch
a new art claims your body
a new artist claims your body

why do you let your canvas have such a possessive audience?

beauty leaks from your ballads
you are not a pen stroke

my ramona

a.m.

I do not understand why my shell is stronger than my soul
every single subconscious want is stuck in an eternal state of escape
slowly clawing away at my energy field
even the conscious thoughts I udder now are a work of my frontal lobe
a combination of fat and water that will one day be just that
what will it take for this exponentially real self of mine to erupt
too long I have sat in a puddle of this realization, this discomfort,
waiting
I am living as a shell of a person
stuck in a continuum of who I am and who I want to be
in this other reality, everything is an unexplored field
I am on a new level each time I turn the corner
no longer are there restraints
no longer do I feel this pain
my mind is not stuck in this body because I am my mind
I am my experience and that of which is experiencing me is my soul
soon drifting I become every electrical impulse,
and all of which is uncharged at the same time
no longer am I woman or even human
I am what is, what is not, and what always has been
now infinite, I escape

as if burning liquor was not enough, you used the sun to destroy me

as if you forgot it was the hottest weapon we could understand, there you sat me

as if you didn’t recall I was terrified of each shadow that it created 

as if it would be easier to drown me in the dark
as if you knew the light would be too much for me to handle

as if you forgot I was much stronger than that 
as if you knew the struggle would be more punishing than the victory 

as if burning liquor was not enough, you used the sun to destroy me 

a.m

She was here
washing her face
yesterday morning,
years ago.