you ask unceasingly
for the warm crimson beating
hands outstretched
waiting

i keep him intertwined
with my comparative mind
unable
to go

he received everything
in return, promised a ring
i kept
in haste

you desire little
make loving truly simple
timid
i shake

he's but a memory
of failure and treachery
you are
neither

what keeps me breathing is
no longer considered his
i rip
it clean

don't unzip my skirt
if it's merely for my sake
be honest with me

tuck me under his salty seas -
a blanket tidal wave
let me wash upon his fleshly beach
to venture and misbehave

pull me just below his surface -
his mirrored tide pools
to submerge into his inky trenches
and lead me to the vestibule

guide me along his furrow -
his scars and phantom pains
then let him create in me his burrow -
his tender hiding place

come as you are
flesh: scarred
pure tenderness
skin charred,
adrenaline

let down your guard
tongue tied
isolation
justified
stagnation

for your eyes only
difficult
vulnerability
reciprocal
fragility

picturesque scene
toothy grin
caught in a dream
highly addictive sin

please pull me in
hands on hips
warm breath and skin
the moon and its eclipse

a hand to hold
chilling breeze
my heart to mold
both minds at ease

i've lined his sheets with
"tell me more"
"please don't go"
"lock the door"
and "pull me closer"

we've sewn
phrases, unintelligible noises, and whispers
into the mattress
one great cross-stitch
spread across the box spring

he's etched my skin with
"take your time"
"can i stay?"
"that doesn't rhyme"
and November Gray

we've read
excerpts, classics, and unfinished plots
among the sheets
words: a vehicle
to take us anywhere

i'm five years younger in his presence
all tenderness and muffled sound
ten feet taller standing near him
pure confidence and mischief

he's adrenaline
a therapeutic freefall
pure heroine

i'm romantic and hopeless
a breezy summer evening
a soft caress

squawks in air ducts
***** and rustled wings
talons on rafters
screams of shock
a basement door locked
music playing
to inject ignorance

tiptoe around
be gentle with me
abnormal sound:
whispering unforcefully

handle with care
only skin and bones
percieved snare
is merely tender prone

**** me softly -
fingertip caress
turning fondly
to your saintly silhouette

she holds my hand,
and whispers at my reflection,
then hollows out
my insides

hands shaking.
woke up
jilted

mind drifting.
dreaming about
you

trouble separating
rem from
reality

he's beckoning
for gentle
touches

yet im filtering
your entirety

straining
your existence

out of
dream-state

asking myself
for the source
of infliction

finding it
in an
expression

these days i am
in-between

not a student
yet not a teacher
waiting on a call
an interview
anything

not a lover
yet not a stranger
searching for a friend
a hand to hold
anything

not a tenant
yet not homeless
looking for a flat
a home
anything

all i am
is lukewarm

firmly grip
fragile wrists
stare down
hips round
visiting
during sleep
lean against
unimpressed

turn luke-warm
then conform
searching for
short skirts
intending hurt
a nightshirt
pillowcase
suffocate

find a host
become engrossed
twisting limbs
lights dimmed
shedding skin
forgetting sin
unchaste
aftertaste

come close
but not close enough
to touch

peer at me
but shift your eyes away
quickly

ignore me
but watch me from across
the room

breathe down
the nape of my bare neck
like before

hate me
but wish I was still in
your bed

she encourages me to draw the curtains
i'm on her couch for an hour or so
explaining to me that, "all men aren't serpents."
even if he's slithered in my bed... around my throat

reminds me, "isolation is a birdcage
he'll never know you if you're ruffled and shy"
yet, i cannot find the courage to engage
my craving for adventure is... out of supply

she listens to stubborn reasoning and woe
allows me to sit in unanswered silence
she's heartening every wednesday even though
my distaste for growth is shown through defiance

red sheets
      knotted
the closet
      half full
rusting
      faucet
brunette
      lulled

the children
      spinning images
their father
      consumed
wife
      exhausted
homewrecker
      perfumed

dishes stacked
      high
lights flicker
      on
sheets hung
      dry
door
      unlocked

Creating noise
out of silence.
Itchy ignorance
and fine lines.

Pretended poise.
Parental guidance:
Your deliverance.
Trying times.

doors: heavy
one small window
searching for
a frantic heart

mixed emotions
drive: uneasy
commotion
a tender friend

girl, sedated
small arms bandaged
aid: belated
a worried self

His fingers poked and prodded,
Sweat stung my bare skin,
Sheets wet and knotted,
Correlation was enough for him.

Having a defined lover,
Meant *** was given,
Clothes weren't to cover,
In the same shoes as fellow women.

Because I was his girlfriend,
My body was his.
Just for the weekend,
Or any day, that is.

You cannot judge a piece of art
you do not delve within
each day

You cannot speak poorly of another writer's
sweat and tears
and consider yourself a creator

You cannot effectively write
unless you choose to read or record
each day

You cannot decide to tear my stanzas apart
but uphold your short phrases
and consider yourself a creator

It grew through him
violently,
relentlessly.
Vines and thorns
weaving throughout his
entirety.
Is this what happens
when pride grasps the heart
and punctures the brain?
He touched with force -
bruised and slit.
turned kisses into slaps,
love to sin.
Stood inches taller,
vines lengthening his limbs.
crawling up his spine,
weaving into his skin.
He finally agreed
with his family:
I wasn't good enough for him.
Pride was like
an infestation.
a twisting ****,
an infection.

We were lying in the field
Behind my apartment
A mid-day meal
Wooden compartment

Your eyelashes extended
Your forehead and hairline
You intended
To find a fault line

The earth crumbling beneath
And car alarms sounding
Uncultured heath
Fractures abounding

Your dark skin mixing with dirt
Dangling from the rift
Dropping unhurt
Found gold to sift

Leaving with your small treasure
And I in the dust
Aim to measure
And readjust

Scratchy syllables
And raspy tones

4am
Dial tones

Two sets of sheets
Hushed voices

Lovers repeat
Promised noises

States and state lines
Limit touch

Cedars and pines
Fields and such

Loving is smooth
When the world's asleep

Sweet vermouth
A luscious treat

A sliced moon
And miles between

Asters in June
Unforeseen

All this
Burgundy
In the bathroom sink.
I had no idea,
No realization
Of the color
Inside me.
I imagined that
I was made of
Gray sludge and
Murky water.
But this vibrance,
This liquid brick
Is beautiful.
The cold porcelain
Is covered in my
Colorful innards.
I will paint the house
With my beauty.
My ever-flowing fluid
Won't stain
It'll color.

The lamp's glow
Across his face
Brought out
The dimples
I hadn't noticed.

He whispered that
I was beautiful.
In those moments,
I almost believed him.

I almost believed the way
He kissed my shoulders.
Almost fell for his
Disheveled curly hair.
Almost wished I could
Watch him
Rub his eyes
And brew his coffee
Each morning.

Almost.
What a pathetic word.
It insinuates that we were
Close...
But not quite there.
Just didn't reach
The mark.

I said that
He was attractive,
And that his shirt
Didn't need to stay on.
He almost believed me.
Almost.

The popcorn ceiling
flakes off
onto the comforter.
I turn over
and pull his
heavy arms
around my neck.
He is dead to me,
but his grip
is alive and well.
Air passes though
purple lips.
Fingers are stiff
yet take the time
to graze my back.
Smile: crooked
before breaking
the skin.
You're dead to me.
Or are you?

Pain and agony were just an
'inseparable aspect of love's genetics.'
But I am certain
that love doesn't burn skin.
Malice, rejection, jealousy,
and abandonment
tend to set bodies ablaze.

Not love.
Love is the kindest,
passionate, and tender-hearted
emotion in this world.
Do not take sorrow
or disappointment
for love.

Love is butter.
Smooth and flavorful...
Even if it burns black
in the pan.
Butter can't burn skin.
It touches
and melts.

They never mentioned
That the smell of aftershave
And toothpaste
Would be triggering.

Forgot to say I was destined
To be what twisted men crave -
My skinny waist,
His slithering.

Cannot sleep on a waterbed.
Fear that the waves will move
Unsteadily,
Irregularly.

Threw away purple bedspread.
Prayed its absence would improve
Sleeping,
Dreaming

I recognize his twins
At work, the store, and on the street.
Unable to breathe.
Petrifying.

Their crooked grins
Calloused hands, tight grips, yellow teeth
Calls me 'sweetie'
Triggering.

He's been wearing white
For the past few months
Trying to prove
That he is blameless

I like to think there's
A cast on his knee
Because he prayed for
Forgiveness... and me

I'm sure there's a frown
Painted on his face
Due to the lack of
What we used to be

Karma's out to knock
Him off of his throne
No sympathy when
He comes crashing down

pitter patter
whispered the rain
the *pitter patter
of my feet

the soothing voice
of rainfall.
my tender song
at night.

crackle crack
shouted the sky
the crackle crack
of my spine

the tendency
to downpour.
my willingness
to break.

purr thrum
hums the drizzle
the purr thrum
of my breath

the gentle
way to fall.
my softness
in sleep.

I have covered the mirror
With notes and quotes

Painted the white walls
With acrylic and oils

Washed my spotless car
Repeatedly

Aired my apartment
Completely

I have written words
On wingspans

Carved phrases
Into his hands

Burned candles
Down to nothing

And left lights on
To hear the buzzing

I eyed my reflection
As I swore:

"I do not love him
Anymore"

Tragedies catch me
When I least expect them.

Coming for me,
Leading to the slaughter.

The length of your hands
Reflects the disaster.

You led me with smiles
And slippery palms.

Calloused, indifferent,
Due to the toil,

Repeating the process
Once again.

Google search:
What happens
During a miscarriage?

A friend asked
For encouraging words,
I didn't have enough.

I don't know what it's like
To lose your own
Flesh and blood.

All I know
Is what it's like
To lose you.

After I comforted
Her with words
That could never be enough,

I thought
Of
Your eyes.

We used to whisper
About our future -
Predicted the faces of newborns.

I've dreamt about
Our false
Daughter.

Her caramel skin:
Ecuadorian
Soft brown eyes:
Similar to yours

She's real.
In another lifetime,
In a parallel universe,
She's real.

Perhaps all the children
Who were meant to be
But never were
Are in the same space.

The many who appear
Through exciting
Positives.

And the few who
Never get
The chance.

Silky smooth,
Tender veins,
Numerous petals
Smell sweet.

Beautiful.
Admired.
A spectators gaze,
Floral physique.

Made for my
Enjoyment.
Just as pretty
As He views me.

The flowers -  
Alluring
Yet, I'm lovelier
Than peonies.

I never wished for my feathers
To catch fire
Unsure of who made me
This way

Losing my brilliance was never
My desire
My finale was
Excruciating

Someone once told me
That fire heals wounds
"To cauterize is to
Stop the bleeding"

This new discovery
Completely consumed.
Becoming anew
Was intriguing

The time then came
For the heat and the haze
These moments both petrifying  
And exhilarating

I touched the dark
Before I embarked
Forming from embers while I
Remembered

I am reborn

I'm tired of being sexualized,
Of waking up in a sweat.
Dreaming of his manipulation -
His authority in my bed

I want someone to search for my soul,
To flip through the files of my heart.
Not greedy fingers of yours,
But hands that cradle inner parts.

The rusty faucet created puddles
In the kitchen sink

I could hear it drip, drip, dripping
While his mattress squeaked

Failing to concentrate on his eyes -
Were they blue or green?

Hair disheveled and rosy cheeks,
While I was underneath

His chapped lips - agape
Whispering obscenities

Sweat on his brow
Drip, drip, dripping on me

The rusty faucet created puddles
In the kitchen sink

Salty eyes formed oceans
On his gray sheets

March feels wintry
On the first day of spring
I am an abductee.

Hades' hunger for sexuality
His underworld queen
Pomegranate seeds

When spring isn't spring
And the grass isn't green
I am Persephone

From Chicago to Lake Geneva,
I knew it to be true:
I loved you.

It was our spring break
But we weren't at the shore
We were outside your front door.

From your mother's disapproval
To your father's dismay,
I had faith in our mainstay.

It was the scent of your pillowcase
And the warmth of your hands
That solidified my plans

During your parent's time away
The sun chose to break through;
Small specks of dust in your room

It was the curve of your lips
And the promises you made
That gave me away

I was suppressing a confession -
A secret of my own...
Whispered onto your jawbone

My thoughts on the train
Were fully admitted
I, committed

From Lake Geneva to Minneapolis,
I knew it to be true:
I loved you.

I'm not all that different
From doctors and surgeons

I search for sharp eggshells
In brownie batter

It's a grueling task
Yet, one I can't miss

Without my extraction
My dessert is displeasing

My grandfather's surgeons
Are similar to me

They search for the blockage -
A distasteful one at that

Hands search
And scavenge

They use medical instruments
I have utensils of my own

Both certain that sharp eggshells
Harm the entirety

There are times I
Come up short

The pesky shards
Are difficult to find

And I am afraid
Of the doctor's similarity to me

I pray they find the eggshells
Inside my grandfather's arteries

Petals between
My thumb and forefinger

Attempting to remember
What softness feels like

I'm reminded of you and
Your mother's eyes

Forgiveness used to be
An easy task

I was patient and tender
You apologized with flowers

Yet now I
Only know hardness

I am unforgiving
Like your father

You used to say
My skin was the softest substance

I know now I am cold
Like you mother's eyes

You sent me flowers
Last summer

Apologizing with their
Colorfully soft character

I forgave you.
I did.

But this time I cannot
Forgive

It's been over half a year yet
I cannot let it go

If your parents taught me
Anything

They showed me how
To hold a grudge

Hopefully the next time
You pretend I don't exist

You can see
Just how cold I've become

When she looks you up and down
Like the men you cross paths with on the street
Do not cast your eyes to the floor
Stand tall; despite the heat

When your mother tells you to keep your tiny jeans
In hopes of shedding weight like snakeskin
Cut the denim in strips
And place it all around her kitchen

When she throws your baked goods away
And replaces them with everything sugar-free
Send dozens of cupcakes to her doorstep
Then proceed to eat as a hyperbole

When your mother purchases running shoes and sports bras
Walk around the house in your under-things
Lounge in the bathtub with a bear claw
Do not let her control your way of being

And when he leaves just like the rest of them,
Do not let your tongue turn to thumbtacks

Stop trying to pierce the walls with your words
While you shuffle around the coatrack

When he moves thousands of miles away,
Cease to check in on him

Burn his t-shirt you took from his unmade bed
Watch your phone cascade into the depths

Do not wander his old town at night
Looking for the back of his head

Don't you dare knock on his previous roommate's door
Thinking he'll still be there

When he leaves on his "adventure"
Let the planes watch themselves

Let the clouds envelop the cool steel
Stop wondering if he's thousands of feet above

Do not pick up his cologne in the department store
His scent is no longer something you can crave

Do not search for air thick with his vapor
Leave behind his nicotine haze

Wake yourself from dreaming of his hands
Do not imagine his selfish desires

Erase intimate memories in his bed
Because his touch only caused fires

When he decides to leave you behind,
Let him

Then mend your wounds.

I left my favorite band tee
At his house

Unsure of why I brought it
In the first place

It touched his wood floors
Early in the evening

I didn't let one drop
Go to waste

I wore his maroon shirt
To bed that night

Woke to his soft hands
Around my waist

Steam and vapor fogged
The mirror

He smoked his e-cig while
I showered

I watched coffee brew
While he watched me

I left my favorite band tee
On his floor

Coming to a realization
Months afterward

My shampoo sits in
His cupboard

I left my favorite band tee
On his floor

Blood stained his white sheets
Our work incomplete
Best efforts to be discrete

"Did I hurt you?"
Views me as ingénue
Hands holding crimson tissues

This wasn't our first
Not near our worst
But our movements were not rehearsed

Yet I expected to bleed
Before his ever-present need
His hunger now mine to feed

It was my confession -
My exhaled expression
That left reasoning unquestioned

My linguistic fragility
Combined with pure sensibility
Caused a loss of my true virginity

My car rumbled
Outside your house
Last night

Searching for
The bedroom light
Through your curtain

Knowing your car
Was cold behind
The garage door

Unsure of why
I decided
To drop by

Perhaps I believed
You would feel me
Looking in

Maybe I thought
You were merely a dream
Nonexistent

Wondering if we
Really continued
To live separate lives

I was back
In Bloomington
Last night

Loudly playing
Your favorite
Rock rhyme

Swore I could smell
Your e-cig
From the driver's side

Maybe I stopped by
Bloomington
To beckon you

Thinking I was
A siren
Able to lure you

Perhaps I accomplished
Whatever I
Set out to

Sang my
Sweet song
Led you to doom

But I don't think my call
Seeped through
Your bedroom walls

Either I
Was too quiet
Or you were
Preoccupied

Chest pains
Burning like
Forest
Fires

Spreading to
Tree limbs
Or
Wingspans

The body
Is an easy thing
To burn down,
Grandfather

These tiny
Sparks
Are heightened
Scares

There is
No possible way
To put out
The flames

And I am
Not ready
To gather
The ashes

There's an ocean
Sloshing around
Inside my head

With each step
I feel the waves
Lap my skull

My mind is
Warped like
A heavy bucket

Brunette waves
Used as
A handle

His hands
Grab handfuls
Yanking my hair

Steers me clear
Of sweet
Relief

Takes me
And my ocean
Anywhere

Has me
Tag along
Just in case

If salty rivers
Ever succeed
In their escape

He let's them flow
Indifferent of
My waterways

The thought of
A rod through my navel
Sent you spiraling
Into fits of rage

After we broke
Things off last summer
I cleaned my skin
And pierced away

Long wavy hair
Was my only choice
The single way
To be seen

Yet, I got the guts
To do it my way
Bravado voice;
Cutting it clean

Sweet red wine
Was a sin and a stain
"Tainted words"
Your complaint

Declared what was mine
With moscato and champagne
Flew with the birds -
Absent restraint

Ink was for
Drawing on paper
For processed trees -
Not porcelain skin

Claimed my pores
As lavish wallpaper
My own decree
You've deemed a sin