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

I saw you in my sleep,
Dreaming of you mending
Stitching
Repairing the unraveled seams
Suturing the unkept promises
Sewing my ****** vessel
Back together
Watching as the needle and thread
Mesh with the blood and flesh

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

We promised
Each other love

Vowing to take
Making it seriously

We were careful
And fully enveloped in it

It was good until it wasn't
Love making

We were explicit
Only once

But it was
Our final time

And I knew it was
Parallel to animalistic

Trying to shake
The empty feeling

Hoping I would
Sleep it off

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.

I am told that I
Cannot make homes
Out of
People

That skeletons are
Too fragile
To withstand
Every storm

Yet, I called you in
Late December
And deemed you my
Potential home

I like to believe
These words are what pulled
You back into
My atmosphere

Although it is said
That homes cannot
Be made out of
Beating hearts and irises

I am striving to
Turn your flesh
Into my
Dwelling place

Your eyelashes are
The blades of grass
On the lawn
Out front

Your ribs are
The staircase leading
To rooms waiting
To be filled

I'm turning your
Flesh into
Our living room
Carpet

Your bones are
The walls which
Keep the two of us
Safe

They said it couldn't
That it really
Shouldn't
Be done

But I'm making
Myself at home
In
You

I tell my hands to keep to themselves
When your body is so close
Self control comes and goes
When we're all by ourselves

My lungs are on fire
As I hold your shirt to the tip of my nose
There's nothing more than what I desire
You, and you alone

The pulse in my chest quickens and surges
While I see you come and go
I miss you terribly even though
You are my most recent splurge

I grin to myself and my stomach is a balloon
When you're that dashing and grand
I'm whisked away by the touch of your hand
That night, our new moon

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

Lay down by midnight.
Take my phone off of "silent";
Just in case he calls.

Commitments built by words
To be mentioned but never confirmed

Promises spoken
Only to be broken

Your mouth's
In a season of drought

Your lips did not send me rain
Tongue's so dry; it burst into flames

You are all talk
Words expounding; and knees locked

This poem is like one large knot.
I'm failing to unravel my thoughts;
Struggling to get my point across.

This poem isn't right.
Mulling the feelings over all night.
Revising only to continue to revise.

This poem isn't what I want it to be.
Typing it out before pressing delete.
Leaving each line incompl-

Plant me elsewhere
Remove me without a care

Pull me by my roots
And forget to water me

Fill the hole with someone new -
A delicate white daisy

Tend to her and show her the sun
Tell her that this is "love"

Watch as I go through a drought
Praying for fictitious rain

Lost in a heatwave of doubt
Wishing I was numb to the pain

He could cut his name into my skin
And I wouldn't mind
Because I would be his

He could rip out my blonde locks
And I wouldn't mind
Because he would run his fingers through my hair

He could slap me
And I wouldn't mind
Because his palms would caress my cheeks

He could curse my name
And I wouldn't mind
Because my name would leave his lips

Charming, he is.
Crisp like the Autumn atmosphere.

He isn't like the others;
Glancing over with greedy eyes.

Benevolent, he is.
Kind in his thoughts and actions.

Past lovers: selfish,
One-sided in their hurtful ways.

Respectful, he is.
Soft fingertips and gentle lips.

Tender to the touch;
Unlike their rough recognizable hands.

Gentleman, he is.
Holding my hand and kissing me goodnight.

Wanting to take things slow;
Unlike their eager palms.

Tranquil, he is.
Calming my nerves and fears.

Steady in his demeanor...
Constant to his very core.

Familiar with the fear.
Panicked by a box full of,
Roads unclear.
Sticks created due to torn gloves.

When things start looking up,
I find new ways,
To slip up.
Mistakes made in lingerie.

I was never enough;
Yet, believed it to be untrue,
While in the buff.
Performing our pas de deux.

Now, I am late.
Which is nothing new,
But other symptoms indicate,
This to be more than the flu.

Our family is known for,
Starting eager fires.
For ***** looks, uproars,
Unquenchable desires.

I am not an outlier.
This is standard, here.
When it comes to kindling fires,
We're legendary Shakespeares.

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.

We were on our way back from the movie theater. "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" was all anyone could talk about, and I went to see it with you for the second time. It was during our drive home when I realized that our timing was off.

     We tried to make things work. We tried to make them work twice. But you and I were like messy children wreaking havoc into each other's lives, only to leave the place in a furry. We were the storm and the storm chasers. We were something chaotic and we loved to rival in the disarray.

     Again, I knew our timing was off. I knew it when you kissed me goodnight. I knew it when Han Solo was killed by his own son. I knew it when you put me on hold for the next two weeks. I knew our timing was off when I looked at you and came to terms with breaking things off.

     Really, looking at you was like seeing myself, but only in a more masculine form. We were each other's reflection in many areas of life. Some sections were good... others were flawed. But, when I looked at the scruff on your chin and realized that I didn't know if I wanted this to be my "forever", I knew we were off.

     There was a lot going into this whole "timing" thing. I was almost finished with my Bachelors, while you were just getting back into school. You were struggling with a dead-end job, and I was well on my way to the workplace. I was ready to settle down. You were getting ready to figure out who you were. I knew what it took to build a healthy relationship, but you weren't willing to put the time and effort into it. You see? Everything was... off.

     That didn't mean I wanted to be like ships passing in the night. I didn't want a few months of your company to end nowhere. I sure as hell didn't want us to turn into some sort of "life lesson" I would teach my kids about one day. I was willing to work on things. That is, until you didn't make me a priority... of any sort.

     And, we ended on a good note. At least, I like to consider it good. There wasn't any yelling or waterworks. We talked as we always did. We agreed to staying friends. As cliche as that sounds, I'm hoping it'll stay true.

     I hope you remember the good we had. Remember how it felt to hold someone and know that they understood you. Remember how it felt to laugh over mindless jokes once more. If anything, reminisce on the "sunshine" I was within the short span of our meeting. We both agreed that there was something or Someone pulling us together. There had to be some sort of meaning behind all of this.

     Recalling how it felt to wake up next to you was a dream in and of itself; one that may swing back around in a year or two. Part of me hopes that you will return a changed man. But... only time will tell.

Impatiently waiting to
Use your only bathroom
I examined the curls
That shaped your hair
From across the room

You were
Exhaustion at best
Tired of me
Worn out from life
Exhausted with your routine

Your roommate finally
Left the bathroom to me
I freshened up
The air was hazy
The towels reeked with ****

I knew we were ending things
I left our aspirations
In the passenger seat
You kissed me goodnight
But I understood that it was *goodbye

I'm not in love with him anymore,
But it's hard to forget...

The baby-soft black hairs
At the nape of his neck.

His sharp shoulder blades
And the scars on his back.

My fingertips recall
Each mole near his spine.

The span of his arms
So much wider than mine.

The dip in his back
And his caramel thighs.

My muscle memory
Is obsolete.

I'm not in love with him...
How could I be?

Yet, I can't seem to forget
Every delicacy.

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

Our love
Could be contained,
And easily
Spilt over.

Sopping wet,
Soaking through
The elements of
Our environment.

You were the wind.
I was the waves.
Together we created
A hurricane.

Liquid love
Attempted to
Wash us clean.
It did not succeed.

Our love
Brought on
A flash flood.
There was no warning.

He caresses my jaw
Like fine china.

He gazes at me
As if I were rare.

My hands are shaking like
I'm going through withdrawals.

Knobby knees are weak
From the sheer sight of him.

I feel I am a mere mortal;
He is sure I am a goddess.

This isn't a date in history
This isn't a place of residence
18
92

The chart is engraved into my memory
Preventing my transition into elephant
18
92

The yellow muck underneath my skin
The index on which my life depends
18
92

The ribs I traced during sleepless nights
The weight at which I shriveled up inside
18
92

The numbers I crossed my heart with
The numbers I wished to die with
18
92

The moments when I drowned myself
Flamed the courage to help myself

For most, tomorrow is a plain ol’ Wednesday

People will wake next to lovers, strangers, and empty sheets
Rising from their slumber, millions of cups of coffee will be brewing
Telephones will ring in offices and on busy city streets
Children will bask in the tender summer breeze

We will wake in separate beds, in different cities
Tomorrow, you will choose between our relationship and what’s easy
You will both mend my mistrust and hurt completely
Or, you will leave

For most, tomorrow is a plain ol’ Wednesday

I.
Grab my suitcase from the carousel
Lead me through the baggage claim

Take me by the hand
Tell me you would take me anywhere

Hail a taxi and rush
Because he's already got the meter running

We're like Chicago
I love the city but you hate the hustle

II.
Walk the suburbs with me
Hold my hand down the sidewalks

Drive the BMW to brunch
Come back in time to give the cleaning lady a key

Sleep on a field of feathers
And wake up to coffee brewing

We're like Wheaton
I despise the deep pockets but you love the atmosphere

III.
Take the train from city to county roads
Drive and drive until traffic is nonexistent

Show me your favorite spot by the lake
Dare me to jump in when I fear the blue waters

Stay up with me all night
Hold me while sunlight floods your room

We're like your hometown
I'm your family and you're the charisma

IV.
I'll drive north through sleet and snow
And meet my mother for a warm embrace

We'll make the couch our home
Nesting under a blanket and promise

Ice cream in January is nothing out of the ordinary
For you and me

We're like the town I grew up in
You're the summer breeze and I'm the familiarity

V.
Together, we're a city
We're the ups and downs

You're the broken windows and I'm the noise
We're the wineries and over-priced pastries

You're the quiet and I'm the prying relative
But together, we make any city an adventure

I.
See these marks on my fingers?
They're not from my bark
They're my bite's fight with dinner

II.
These cuts and bruises
Have calcium to blame
And the food my body refuses

III.
The scars on my middle and pointer
Remind me of the acid burn
That made my image so much lovelier

The vape from your e-cig
Fogged up the windows

I wrote a story
Along each side of your car

Letters
Which formed your name

Handprints
To keep me steady

The air thickened with
My breath and yours

Your leather seats were cold
But your hands felt like summer

Fingertips left my skin
Hot with desire

The vapor
Leaving your lips

Reminded me of
Foggy July mornings

The stubble on your chin
Was like grass grazing my thighs

Your eyes were ever-changing
Like the sky before a summer storm

The air in your car
Was warm enough to melt the ice

Outside, temperatures
Dipped below freezing

Yet, with you,
Our time together was blazing

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.

After months of playing tug-of-war
I lost you

You told me your heart was never in it
But your words cannot be true

You continue to love me
But you are not in love with me completely

I asked you to kiss me one last time
I tasted your familiarity

Then we walked to my car
Keeping our fingers unlaced was heart aching

Perhaps separation will mend the broken parts
And we will grow while being apart

And maybe we will pick up right where we left off
But for now, you are lost

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

Dry and cracking
My wounds scabbing
Over; displaying healing as an option

Yet it's easy
To start peeling
Away; touching the tender skin underneath

You, tender wound
Irritate mood
Your mind temperamental in every wrong way

Tending gashes
Quiet passions
Letting sensitive skin heal over anew

We left our love in the sand
It’s lost somewhere out at sea
Or under sandcastles, miles deep

Both our hearts remain by the lake
I journeyed back home
Then you ran away

My dignity is locked up in a cage
My body scraped clean
Your family mounts the keys in a frame

Tender touches are adrift in your sheets
Lost in a maze
Previously wrapping itself around tangled feet

Broken pieces of myself cower around your house
Fragments of us are tucked in the corners
Is it too late to hear me out?

Gather up each emotion and label them one by one, boy
Seal infatuation up and store it in the basement
Out of sight, out of mind
Forget what young love really looks like

Sort your feelings into groups, middle child
Throw joy and affection away
Sew anger and harshness into your lungs
Watch the fury spill from your tongue

Sweep the sentiments underneath the rug
This is exactly what I've learned from your mom
Desert that fabric for the next generation
Leave them wondering where they got it from

Never wear your heart upon your sleeve, son
Keep your eyes cold and your heart hard
Don't ever let the tears blur your vision
Be a man, you mindless child

Let her smile fade from your memories, my puppet
I'm the one who's supposed to control your ways
Watch her eyes turn from evergreen to poison
Because you're the one she's bound to betray

I sewed our love to my limbs...
For everyone to see.

Displayed the photographs and longing glances...
As a sort of confession.

I wrapped our relationship around me like string;
Tangled in a web of hopeful plans.

Adorned myself with imprints of your lips,
And labeled myself as yours.

I etched our memories into my skin.
Believing the marks and moments would last.

Painted myself with your favorite color...
To see myself through your eyes.

Blackened where each fingerprint had once been,
As a reminder of your touch...

I lost my second love,
And covered myself with what once was.

Just when I thought I packed all of you away
Tucked safe in the corner of my closet

I found your sweatshirt hanging
Amongst my own

The heavy gray one
You wore when you told me you loved me

It still smells like you
Somehow, everything I own smells like you

I washed my sheets
But the scent of your skin lingers

I’m starting to think
My own skin took on the scent of you

Your choices are amusing
Going every which-way
Certain you're refusing
A life of "everyday"

Explain a tight budget
And future student loans
Continue to spend hundreds
On ink and Patrón

Ruin relation with me
And your "handle" on addiction
Reunite with nicotine,
Whiskey and restriction

Encounter a crisis at twenty
Isolate yourself
No, you're not hiding
Resuscitate your hell

I see myself in her...

Back when I was made of ice,
Every slice and bite precise.
Grandmother's collarbones like
Soft skin cut by knives; birdlike.

I see myself in her...

The treadmill is her best friend.
Against herself, she contends,
Stuck in a world of pretend.
Her own skeleton: her friend.

I see myself in her...

Grandmother chilled to the bone.
Present summertime unknown.
She's carving her own tombstone,
Out of her sharp hipbones.

I see myself in her...

Was that how they looked at me?
With confusion and worry?
Was I the storm on the sea?
Or the dark depths underneath?

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

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

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

I feel I am a true educator
Standing in front of my class,
And the time slips away.

A teacher when I fake a smile
For the sake of my students;
Unwilling to cry in front of them.

An instructor at heart
When I am willing to
Show that I am human as well.

A teacher in vulnerability.
Personable in profession.
Tenderhearted in 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'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 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

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.

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

Lately, I have been postponing
Writing about the palms of your hands.

Procrastinating thoughts written down
Concerning the color of your eyes.

In fear of looking at you in a positive light
Once more.

You see, when I dedicate verses
To the specifics of your smile.

I tend to get caught up
In feelings of attachment.

And I live with the fear
That you will leave just as easily as you came.

I suppose I will let myself cling
To every lingering thought of you.

Allow myself to ponder the rasp of your voice
In the early hours of the morning.

Allot myself time to reminisce
On the tenderness of your touch.

Slowly, I am becoming more attached;
Sticking to you like sweet honey.

Your words are half of a chainlink fence;
And mine connect with yours exclusively.

Ask me for my humble opinion
I will write it along the walls of your home

Ask me to expand and elaborate
I will show you step by step

Tell me my confidence is malice
I will show you what vengefulness really is

Indirect your words and shoot daggers at me
Tar and feather my body for all to see

Turn a healthy discussion into sudden death
Life’s a competition, right?

You’re the professor, after all
I should know that wisdom has been stitched into your very being

It’s not like your student’s words would hold any truth
You’re already the winner

And I’m the one destined to lose

I struggle to write
Of soft sunshine

Moments petal-like
Tender slivers of moonlight

It's a drawn-out fight
Describing twilight

When lover's hearts ignite
Before whispering goodnight

Tend to rewrite
Words laced with delight

Of sheets purer than white
And kisses on lover's spines

I tend to overwrite
Then leave out the highlights