How is it that the universe expands
and I cannot diminish thoughts of you?
Your memory should be cold now
instead it scorches and burns

melting the edges of my existence
until sleep eludes my grasp
and I chew on my lip, surprised
that blood tastes more of salt than copper.

Pain travels from twilight into blinding brightness.
There is no impenetrable shell, no leaden wall,
only the will to cauterize its oppressive nature
and banish it into the shadowed recesses of being.

Someone asked me what my greatest fear is. I failed to answer it honestly. It's a loaded question. Well, in English class today we were talking about last words & how they're always along the lines of "I wish I had travelled more, loved more, spent more time doing the things I enjoy" & they were never "I wish I worked more, been more successful." We were talking about how people who live in a somewhat wild manner (drifters, artists, people who dance on the outskirts of society) tend to feel much more fulfilled than those who succeeded in, for instance, a career path they'd always wanted. I spent the rest of the day looking up peoples' last words. And I think that's it- my fear, I mean. The scarcity of it all. The fleeting moments of happiness that don't have to be fleeting. I have hands. I'm afraid I won't use them enough. I'm afraid I will use my mouth for all the wrong reasons. I'm afraid I will do everything for no reason at all. I don't want to have any last words. Maybe I want to look up at the sun one last time, see it rise and fall. I don't want to have to tell you "I love you" or anything like that. I need you to know that I do. I need to know that I did it right.

and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it