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

This year has taught me
How to find love
In the spaces between fingers,
In the shadows across faces,
In heated cars,
And in cool sheets.

This year has taught me
How to let love go.
When my second love
Kissed another.
When my almost love
Fled the state.

This year has taught me
How to love myself.
To cherish my laughter lines,
And each bite of food.
To soak in hot water,
And splurge every so often.

This year has taught me
How to hope.
Dickinson reminded me
That “’hope’ is a thing with feathers”.
My middle name is Hope.
Therefore, I will hope once more.

This year has taught me
That much does not last.
Shoulders to lean on are not constant.
Mortal forevers are
Just that:
Mortal.

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

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

You're the evergreen beside my house
Standing tall and sure
Neither bending nor bowing
As the storm passes through

You're the first rain during a drought
Your streams reassure
Crystal water allowing
The old to change to new

You're the early morning sunlight
Peeking through the sheets
Turning skies from dark to light
Shaking the world of sleep

You're the quiet of the night
Steadfast and distinct
Whispering to me despite
The others fast asleep

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.

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

She tells you there is a hurricane inside my head
And how my pupil is not the eye of the storm

Agitation creeps underneath the layers of my skin
She is sure that I am trouble (or troubled)

Obviously, I am a thief in the night
I am stealing you away, after all

And she explains to your sister that I am the wolf in sheepskin
Just waiting to devour

I tell her I don’t understand what it is I did wrong
She tells me to exam myself once more and recalculate all my flaws

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.

Fear latches onto my mind.
I am afraid,
Afraid of positives.
I cannot come to terms with another life form.

Like mother, like daughter,
I will fall into her footsteps;
You will leave, just as my father;
Tiny eyelashes and fingernails will be the cause.

They will look at me as the one to blame,
For I am the flame and you are water;
Tranquil, you are soothing blue,
But I burn and do not falter.

My feet will swell;
My friends will dwindle;
They will declare me filthy,
Will critique while my fire is kindled...
(Of course, they are perfect... completely). 

Your parents will tell you
It was my fault from the start;
It doesn’t take two,
It only takes one to ***** up her part.

Our flames will grow...
Both of us are full of fury and passion.
Cool water, you know
The fire will engulf my being,
Soon, our flames will show.

The flame will breathe in oxygen -
Blazing before diminishing to cool blue
In my arms, my tiny fire - wailing
I will be amazed – s/he will look just like you.

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?

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

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

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

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

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.

I bet your hardwood floor
Still supports that shirt.
Your maroon one I wore
After losing my skirt.

Now, your roommate is telling you
To help clean up your place.
Blaring "R.I.P. 2 My Youth".
Searching for what's been misplaced.

The dusty floorboards creak
Under the weight of it all.
It's only been one week
Since intimate nightfall.

You're wearing ***** clothes;
And you can't bear to do laundry.
Because once you start a load,
You'll have to accept the palm trees.

The desert that awaits you,
And the life you're leaving behind.
Telling me that, if we bump into
Each other, we won't be ill-timed.

I bet that maroon shirt is precisely
Where I left it.
Before you decisively
Determined we were unfit.

If I packed all my things
Would you hold my hand again?

If I showed up unannounced
Would you let me in?

If I called in a week
Would you let me hear your voice?

If I bought a plane ticket
Would you allow me the pleasure?

I was beginning to get used
To the thought of you.

But, currently, I'm confused.

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

Pass time with me...
And you will live forever.

I will memorize
The sound of your voice.

Only to compose
A piece about your vocal chords.

Stick by me...
And I will write about you.

Detail-laced words;
The specifics of your smile.

I will dedicate time
To mull over your dimples.

Spend all night
Visualizing the green of your eyes.

Take all day
Writing about the spaces between your fingers.

I am the writer...
You have been collected on paper.

You, artwork,
Now you are immortal.

We may have a past,
But "stop" means just that.

I shouldn't have to pull your hands away.
Don't you dare ask me if we're okay.

You may have a hard exterior,
But my body is not inferior.

I am a push-over...
But a four-leaf clover.

And I will not stand
For disobedient hands.

Carrie, how does your garden grow?

Are the souls of your enemies
Buried beneath your personal cemetery?

The victims on their knees
Begging, beseeching, pleading

Praying to you *and the same God for
Things to be as they were before

With silver bells, Carrie?

Are your nails sharpened to a point,
Itching to break bones at the joint?

To snap my wrists and tie
Them up - your peace of mind

Tortment me, ****** Carrie
Smirk and laugh before you bury

And cockle shells, Carrie?

Are you seen as a pleasurable fantasy?
A mask of terrible daydreams?

Your body caresses the loaded gun
He swears that pain is one with love

You are an instrument of pure torture
Who is viewed as a delicate sculpture

Are your pretty maids in a row?

Are we in a straight line
Waiting to be punished for our crime?

Your foolish prey meet the guillotine
One swift motion - sliced clean

Hail Carrie, the ****** empress,
Queen of deciet, and ***** mistress

If your mother doesn’t tear us apart
I will

And I’ll do so without realizing it
Until I’ve pushed you far away and out of my reach

I hate hurting you
And I despise that my dislike toward myself is what hurts you most

I want this to be easier
I crave for the two of us to stand in the sun

The warm waves caressing my skin
And your hand in mine

Yet I continue to lurk in the shadows
The darkness is my security blanket

I see you standing with your hand stretched out
Begging me to just grab ahold and leave the secrets behind

But you know that I am afraid
My self-destruction is there when no one else is

You ask me to promise self-preservation
But how can I do so when I’ve failed again and again?

Feet inch closer to me and I shove
With all my might

I won’t let the darkness take you too

Standing in forty-degree weather;
Water threatening to change to ice.

Perhaps, the rain will cleanse me,
And I will feel pure.

Maybe their blackened fingerprints
Will fade away from my skin.

The grease from their selfish palms
Leaving without a trace.

If I stand out in the cold showers,
The storm may sanitize my soul.

And maybe,
Just maybe...

I will forget their selfish appetites.

I began to worry when we didn’t speak
For quite some time

Because I realized
I would not know of your pain or any serious injury

And I would be left in the midst of a cruel mystery
Because your family would fail to inform me

Social media would be my next reference
I would scroll and scroll mercilessly

But come up with nothing
Due to the fact that your siblings and I aren’t even friends

Calling your father’s business, he would be too busy
To bother picking up the phone

Your mother would wave the thought off
After all, I didn’t suit you at all

Somehow, I would see that I’m the one to blame
That I could have done more  

Because after all, I was yours

Wisconsin’s area code is etched into the side of my heart
And communication means a whole lot to me

I call and call to make sure you haven’t fallen apart
Your caramel skin is tough, I know

But it is also thin
Thin, like your favorite t-shirt

I’m afraid of miscommunication

I’m terrified of tragic situations

And that I’m the next thing you’ll outgrow

I wake to his whistling
On the couch in the den
His mug full of black coffee
Now empty, he'll get up to fill it again

My grandfather is constant
He has never walked out on me
He has taught me that nonsense
Lies within the person who flees

I have watched him slow with age
His bones have grown weak and frail
I know that he sheds tears offstage
When he looks back on the trials of his tale

My grandfather is water
He flows and ebbs, traveling from place to place
But he has had three otters
To keep him company... just in case

He is a constant imperfect man
Who loves motorcycles and sweets
He's too laid-back to have a plan
But shows up early when we meet

I lie awake and I know he does the same
Staring at the ceiling is one thing we share in common
Sleep has always been like a waiting game
He wishes he could close his eyes more often

My grandfather is constant water
He is changeless and tranquil
I am certain that his love has made me stronger
Even when it appears to be casual

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.

Come a little closer and you will soon see
Run your fingers along the cracked parts of me

The cracks etch my thighs, hips, and *******
Each crevice: white, purple, and ruby red

What once was flat and smooth has changed
Bulges and ripples: new landscape

Voices continue to point my flaws out to me
The mirror screams failure; I choose recovery

Previously, these porcelain walls were kept neat
Prim and polished on the inside – pink squeaky clean

Now, this doll is filled with laughter and cheesecake
But the cracks in my mask are all on display

He tells me he loves every part of me
And stretched skin is a part of my story

But I cannot tell if I’m breaking my “perfect” shell
Or if I want to go back to my personal hell

They tell me I will feel differently
Eventually, hearing your voice won't
Feel like a necessity

Locking eyes from across the room
Assuming this is all a dream, waiting
To awake so my life may resume

Telling myself to stop crying
Trying to shove it all down, praying
It only leaks out through my rhyming

"Nothing is constant."
My mother's voice is squeaky yet soothing.
"You're learning a new concept."
Words try their best to move me.

"Afraid of commitment..."
Her ears are blush red at the tips.
"Anyone can work through distance."
My friend places her hands on her hips.

"He came, he saw, he conquered "
My mind replays each scene.
"Perhaps, he was made to wander..."
Curious and nineteen.

"We should stop seeing each other."
His voice distorted through the phone.
"I wasn't ready for a lover."
His disposition now known.

His hands are large and strong
I knew this all along
Strong enough to hold me down

Smiles are contagious
His are crooked and malicious
Watching me squirm, crying

My daddy is not safe
I know now because he was taken away
But I thought this form of love was ordinary

I didn't mean to get him in trouble
But I was afraid when his hand was my muzzle
Now everyone looks at me like I'm made of glass

My mom says I can't talk to him
But I just don't get it
He said he wouldn't hurt me

My daddy wears orange
Mom answers his phone call with a look of warning
His clothes are in boxes down in the basement

There's a stack of papers on the counter
That mom's been staring at for the past hour
I think I need to help her with her homework

We make the bed with stains across the mattress
I don't think I can keep up with this practice
I pretend I don't see the guilt in mom's eyes

My mom and I sleep next to each other at night
Because we're both afraid he'll appear in the morning light
Looming over us with his hungry eyes

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?

Yes, your actions wound me
But I will not command you to do a thing

Love is a choice
And within that choice is more decision

Because love does not command of another
It prefers blind hope

Blind hope, which fails every so often
But I choose to love you through my aching

The pain you inflict is only temporary
My hurt feelings will scab over

Love is choice, after choice, after choice
And patience – a whole lot of patience

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

I packed your red t-shirt away;
The last bit I kept of you.

Letting go is hard...
But trying to forget is harder.

I clung to that shirt for months.
It smelled of your skin.

But, when I wore it recently,
It felt wrong.

I was weighed down.
You... weighed me down.

I lifted your heavy t-shirt off my shoulders...
To finally feel free.

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.

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

You packed my things
While I was still in your t-shirt.

Boxed our tentative plans
With your hand still on my knee.

Piled up your empty promises
While your scent lingered on my skin.

Silently drove me home
Only to arrive elsewhere.

Your shirt is still under my bed
Right next to your sleepy bedhead
I file and store these memories
Inside my head, used as a directory

Your blanket is still in a pile on my couch
I never want it to leave my house
It’ll stay put until you come back
Or until your mother shows up for combat

Our secrets are still locked up in my closet
I kept them there, just as I promised
They tend to scratch up the door, sometimes
But what’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine

I.
My body was made for man’s consumption
For his fondling and pleasure

I am just a moment of bliss
To then be disposed of

My father imparted this to me
When I was young

He locked my ******* cage
He taught me to keep my mouth shut

II.
******* is the only way it works
You strip and love even while it hurts

My first time bestowed this knowledge to me
He got what he wanted and told me to leave

He never apologized
Or made his confession

He blamed it on hormones and loves that didn’t last
But I knew that I could be thrown away – a piece of trash

III.
Men stay for what they’ve always wanted
A body to be used and teased

My second love displayed this to me
And for once, I gave myself freely

I loved him whole-heartedly
He stuck around for good company

He spoke of his reasoning face-to-face
Before becoming a coward and running away

Helplessly,
I'm falling
Terrified
Of the fall
Attempting
To enjoy it

Unsure
That I will love again
Actually,
That I will let myself love again
Really,
That I will choose to love again

One minute,
You drive me insane
The next,
I'm a fool
But, darling,
I'm hooked

Blue Swede,
Hooked on a Feeling
Coldplay,
Strawberry Swing
Stay Awake,
Ellie Goulding

Melodies
Connecting our hearts
Verses
Etched into memories
Choruses
Reminding me of you

This piece
Is one large mess
Thoughts
Wandering aimlessly
Continuously
Lost in you

Although,
I'm sure of the fall
Doubtless
In the way I'm feeling
Certain
You will catch me

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.

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

I'm told to remember
The silence and the screaming

His fickle ways
My begging and pleading

The end
Was detrimental

My tenderness
Hung out to dry

Yet I can't help but miss
The delicacy

Sit and reminisce
On the highest highs

You are the question
I will never get the answer to

Asking myself "why?"
Only to come up empty-handed

There's no such thing
As no strings attached
Although your emotions are absent

There's no such thing
As no strings attached
Even though I say I'm fine with these decisions

A baseball glove is your future
But for now I will suture
My body back together

Tying it together with the strings
That should never be attached
To sneaking around

You probably call it *******
While your buddies
Pat you on the back

I thought *** was supposed to be
More than just you and me
Keeping our voices down

How
Do you let me through your window
Just to tell me to get dressed and go?

We were fooling around
But it's different now
That you're playing with my heart

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

An era of feminism,
Which should never be questioned.
Empowering women
To strive, and strive again.

We speak of desexualization.
To free the ******,
Unveil carnal harassment,
And speak our minds.

But we can be sightless
Toward the sexualization of man.
The way we view testosterone
As broad shoulders and shirtlessness.

Do not sift through my words!
I believe in the power feminism.
But I am disappointed
With the sexualization of man.

We're determined to trump the blurred *****...
Yet drool over a man in Calvin Klein.
We frown upon the "Perfect Body" campaign...
But applaud a "built" man.

I wish for bodies to be just that:
Bodies.
For sexualized men and women
To be more than carved features.

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

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 sun is dull.
Its absence depleting.

Exhausted,
Yet up all night.

Numb to the rain.
Desensitized showers.

Pained,
Yet without feeling.

Spices are flavorless.
Tastebuds waning.

Hungry,
But always full.

Eyelids are heavy.
Yet never resting.

Blank,
And tainted gray.