I so desperately
miss the feeling
of words
spilling onto
empty pages.



Maybe it's time I came back.

There is a room of everything I wish I’d said.
It tastes of everything that’s empty.
I brush until my mouth bleeds.
Do not touch me with your forgiving eyes,
I do not deserve to be whole.
There is an ocean full of light here somewhere,
I heard it.
It’s a shame I cannot swim,
there is so much I can’t lose.
You said you’d be here.
You said you’d be here.
Maybe one day.
One day it will exist.
The place where we remember.
Where everything remembers.
But it has been quiet lately.
I am everywhere but here.

There is a room of everything you wish you’d said.
It tastes of everything that’s empty.
I stay until my mouth bleeds.

Although it seems ancient now,
and although it may mean nothing to you,
with the changing season,
and the cold settling in,
I am reminded heavily
of you
and the time that
we never spent together
and how my porch remains as empty
as it ever was,
even though it sure felt like
it was all reality.

Everyday I have to swallow my heart
back down to where it belongs.
When it feels so broken,
and it seems like it's trying to
escape your body,
and it feels like it just wants out
to get away from the pain,
only for a moment-
I pour the biggest glass of water I can,
hands shaking,
and force my bleeding heart back down inside myself,
as the cold rushes past my lips and
down my throat,
I finish it hastily,
gasping for air,
wishing that I would just drown instead.

i cannot fathom
the (i'd)ea
of you (go)ing away
and leav(in)g
me here,
i(s)olated ,
unable to st(an)d
by mys(e)lf.i cannot fathom
the (i'd)ea
of you (go)ing away
and leav(in)g
me here,
i(s)olated ,
unable to st(an)d
by mys(e)lf.

n.d.

Open up your canyon lungs
and let me breathe like I am living.
I have forgotten what this tastes like.
The sky is awfully quiet,
like it has something to hide.
Dig up your bruised knuckles
from those sand-filled pockets.
We will rebuild the sun.
I sink my teeth into forgiveness
and it pours out my mouth.
Overripe;
I always wait too long.
Foolish, to keep important things
in drawers you never look in.
So I’ve dug up the front yard,
there were directions here somewhere.
Do not look at me like the stopwatches on our hearts
are the same.
Mine is counting up.
But forget that I left the front door unlocked,
this is a postcard from where I am visiting.
I hope it makes you hopeful too.
I’m sorry I don’t say things I don’t mean.
You are the ocean,
and I never know where to put my hands.

My hands are full of cement,
I do not forget.
Currents run through your fingertips,
I trace honesty along the edges of your ribcage.
Do not look back.
Your head is not a home for liars.
This is meant to be felt.
Come close,
I will show you how much you exist.
I do not forget.

I close my eyes.
There is a home inside here somewhere.
I remember.
It sinks slightly to the left.
My knees are covered in mud.
The trees have pushed into the living room,
sunflowers are rotting out the woodwork.
I have grown awkwardly into the floorboards.
They remind me that is okay.
I forget.
It keeps me full,
all this emptiness.
The windows are all open.
The hinges let go of every door.
I learn.
Trace the outline of each frame,
hear the echo of hollow footsteps:
"Love more,
love more,
love more."
I have never been here before.
This is what it must be like;
beginning.

I fell out of love with the bottom half of the sky today.
It reminded me of home.
I've grown weak carrying a half splintered heart.
It only floats on the third Wednesday of the month
and holidays that start with "yesterday."
It's all the same.
I'd rather drown.
I think home is where you don't feel so alone.
I've tried, you know.
It's all the same.
I've left two voicemails for whoever lives here now.
I think they're sorry they're so empty.
It's just been so quiet lately.
I am tired,
and so very far from home.