she sat next to me near the window
at starbucks on
41st and madison with a journal
covered in pastel lines and a black backdrop.
on the top center read “2011 was the year i screamed
**** life’ and ‘**** me”
as a running header. she ran
through my head, tilting this little snippet
of her brain
towards me and i swear that she looked at me
but all i could do was make the sign of the cross
hoping god heard my muffled voice, drowned out by
the sounds of yellow taxis on the crosswalk and
whispers of angels on the corners asking for my pockets.
i’ve never tasted sixty miles
per hour but i can imagine it’s the same
as when she writes “your shirt looks like my thoughts”;
i’m falling in love too easily.
i want to read every inch of your body; your arms
have the bible etched in your veins and a fifth of my poems
are scribbled on your aortas; my mother’s wedding vows
are in my right eye and my father,
my father just takes care of himself. i don’t think my eyesight is
getting any better, you slid the note two spaces down
and i think i shed a tear but i can’t remember whether
you were smiling for joy or the fact you missed my hand.

every morning at 8:13am, she texts me
“the birds by my window keep my mind running
at 5:20am, just like the way you’ve captured me.
every thought at 2:57am sounds like a prayer if
i think hard enough, but i’m afraid god is gonna hear
me this time. i have this obsession with circles and
i don’t think my life is on the right path.”

but all my mother ever taught me to answer was:
“maybe god will hear me this time because lately,
my heart’s been playing jump rope whenever
i see your name light up on my phone. i pray every
night at 2:56 in the morning so maybe one day,
i’ll be in your mind and god will hear you say my
name in your voice.”
the birds are a present from me, i’m sorry.

I’m happy you found someone
That draws blue flowers on your
Porcelain every night
You leave your lip stick
On his night stand and
Your underwear on his bed
You walk to him like a horizon
like the floor is sand
like you leave foot prints
telling me where you are
just so you could see what
I would do
It’s been a month.
I've been traveling through Montana
It’s cold here, the snow is piercing
And the ice never melts
I’m at St. Mary trying to find
Where the lake touches the mountains
Some time before lunch
Realizing how you found
The world in-between his shoulders
And a history in-between mine

When I was thirteen
I had this awkward habit
of texting you at 1 o’ clock in the morning
about some crazy idea I had during the day.
And you would get so mad at me
that you’d reply in all caps and exclamation points
to which I would laugh so hard at.
But really, you didn't mind
because you would stay and
we would text until sleep claimed one of us.

I remember back then
I use to play basketball all the time
and you would always come out
when I was there.
It was annoying
because you would always steal the ball away
and I would have to chase you
all around the cul-de-sac.
Until you got tired
collapsing on asphalt
and I not wanting you to get hit by a car
stood guard right beside you
and you would always laugh at me
for being so paranoid.

I especially remember the night
when you were outside laying on the grass
wearing nothing but summer shorts and a tank top
Your legs gleam in the moonlight like neon
I thought you were the most beautiful
Thing I've ever seen
I remember asking you
“What are you doing out here?”
“My parents are fighting, what are you doing?”
“Taking out the trash” I said.
You asked me to join you
and I did and so we both laid there
cushioned by the thick uncut grass
covered in shining nightly dew
as we stared upward towards infinity.
and all I could imagine was you
climbing on top of me
giving my chest a reason to expand

I miss your breath after
a few shots
breathing on my neck
Corroding my skin
Leaving wounds the shape
of your mouth
the size of continents
seeping down
in to my bones
like radiation ,
rusting them
grinding my knee caps
my elbows
shifting the tides of
my blood
your fingers sail down
my spine turbulently
I could feel arthritis
On your lips
Taste myself on
Your tongue
and feel the collision
of a car crash being
pressed against me
everywhere

There’s dullest in the walls
plastered with dried saliva
From the girl who ******
You, and him and her
The night before
The floor smells like ****
Because last night you
divulge to me your love for
the guy across the hall, Jamie
Your love for his ego and his
eccentric manner of being a
******* ****** bag
Aren’t you tired of roof tops
The crossed off words in your
mouth?
aren't you tired of putting things
Inside you that don’t matter?
I left my cigarette burning
Inside your stomach and Jamie over here
Left two more
Don’t be surprised if it gets that big
After 4 months
I’m glad the cancer isn't mine

Some people are raised
From a very young age
to believe that they’re
special and one of a kind.
And as they grow, they’re
Devastated to find out that
We’re all the same
They buy a home
They have a few kids
They conform to
The sociable
And they’re happy
Then there’s the people who
From the beginning of their lives
Are told that they’re worthless
And they succumb to the
Pressure of those crushing
Adjectives and they wither
And fall
Into drugs or crime or civil
disobedience to everything

We are made to believe that
The norm is to settle.
Is to capitulate to the standards
Of everyone around us.
Yes we’re all the same
But what makes us different isn’t
Our appearance or our race or gender
Or our personal style.
What makes us, Us.
Is our capacity to hope.
To dream.
To cherish.
To love.
To grasp something so tightly
to your chest that your body
has no choice but to make it
its own
Those exact things also makes us
The same  
We are all artists in the grand
Scheme of things
In our own universes, In front of us
Stands the canvas of decisions
Make sure you create something
Worth the trouble

My eyes are heavy
from to many nights
thinking about an
hour glass.
the ticking sound
coming from a Disney clock
I threw away when I was 11
If I knew back then how being
an adult would break
everything in your body
I would have stayed after school
a little bit longer and probably
should have kissed her while
I had the chance.

You’re the song that
The sky can’t stop
Singing after the sun
Broke its promise to
The afternoon and left
Inside my head is the
Sound that the rain makes
After a big storm, leaving
Stains on my shirt
Rusting the brakes so you
Couldn’t leave
The sound of subtle bells
I tore it open once
Just to see if I could find you
Somewhere in the storm of myself
I searched for a while and my feelings
Came pouring out like a waterfall
Rivers began to form and you followed
Them to the ocean of my vulnerabilities
Stripped yourself naked and swam through
Me, riding my skin like tidal waves.

And you wanted to drop in to the sea
We’re not rain drops
No matter how much
We want to reflect the impressions
of clouds burned into the afternoon
and you wanted to spend evenings on a roof
around us the cache of our future
embodied in skyscrapers
found near parks where everyone lives
and you wanted me to metalize my organs
store them somewhere cold where only
you can retrieve them;
A safety deposit box filled with things
To make you feel better  
and you wanted us like a locket
sealed by the feelings from the last guy
you wanted.