when the earth makes a complete orbit around the sun,
it is called a revolution.
when people stand up for what they believe in, enough to make a change,
it is called a revolution.
when you save something, preserve it for yourself,
it is called conservation.
when you told me you were leaving and i couldn't come with you,
we held what is called a conversation.
when i followed you across the country, train ticket in one hand and your hand in the other,
it was called love.
when you left me with nothing but a note on a hotel pillow,
it was called hate.
they say a picture is worth a thousand words, but words and pictures, slip-ups and homographs, grammar and literature and math and science,
none of it matters anymore.
none of it matters when nothing is changing and time stands still.
none of it matters when preserves run dry and talking turns to silence.
none of it matters with notes on a pillow that doesn't belong to you, thousands of miles from home.

he smiles like he has a secret tucked into the corner of his lips. "something to chew on when dinner isn't enough," he said.
but it's never enough, and she reminds him of that.

she pulls out a cigarette, slender as the fingers she grips it with. "the smoke in my lungs make me less empty," she said.
but she's always empty, and he reminds her of that.

and now they sit together in silence, pulling feathers from pillows and strings from seams. he says, "take your coat off and stay a while."
but neither wants to stay, and they both understand that.

"i'm sorry," she whispers, and lights another cigarette.
"it's okay," he returns with a smile.

i feel weary.
weary in a way that has me dragging my feet.
thick circles hang heavy under my eyes
like sucker punches.
sleeping too much or not enough.
words never meaning anything.
just missing, missing, missing.
wanting.
with such a peak comes such a fall.
flying means eventually landing.
and the question comes in,
are the wings just heavy?
or am i already crawling?
dragging my feet,
dirt under nails from clawing my way.
my tongue is thick and,
well,
there's no real hope here.
i just need quiet.
peace and quiet.

she got on her knees again [how many times this week?].
she whispers to herself, to a god, to anyone that'll listen.
she can't stop.
she's spinning circles around topics she can't avoid.
head-on collisions using nouns and verbs.
swallowing pride and trying doors,
searching for keys and answers.
she's on her knees, whispering again.
she's spitting into palms,
because it's better than holding nothing.
she's choking down drinks and god knows what else.
she can't stop.
she's writing equations in chalk
and diagramming sentences,
just trying to figure out how it's supposed to work.
it.
life, or love, or religion.
purpose.
she's dragging feet, leaving black scuffs behind.
trying to make some mark on the world
until someone buffs it away,
on their knees again.
never ending cycle of submission.
knees scarred and ***** from begging, from laughing,
from imbalance.
until we're flat on our faces,
flipped only to be dolled up in caskets
or kissed goodbye before we
kiss furnaces.

she can't stop.

he tucks her hair behind her ear, then goes back to reading his book.
and she stares at him and wonders simultaneously how she got so lucky, and how things got to be this way. because no one ever told her what it's like to be in love, and no one can tell her which way is up.
"listen to your heart," they say.
but untrained hearts are just as faulty as untrained minds, and this girl is spinning circles trying to figure out where to go.
which step is next.
she bites her lip, that one he's brought between his own teeth countless times before. she guides her hand along his arm, stares at his knees. she curses them, because they are what she fell in love with.
she fell in love with his hands, and his knees.
and she curses herself, too. "stupid girl, no wonder you don't know what love is."
too busy wasting time watching skin taught on bone and how swollen knuckles settle.
too busy staring to catch her breath.
'silly me,' she thinks.
she counts the miles that will soon separate them, comparing them to the amount of freckles she'd mapped out on his back.
the odds weren't in her favor.
but there was a sense of despairing hope, even.
in crowded train lines and sticky nights running from everything.
under streetlights, dancing,
and clutching each other during thunderstorms.
'don't lose hope,' she thinks.
'you may be stupid but don't lose this.'
questions might never be answered but at least there's promises, whispered and held between their chests.
she might not ever know if this is it or if she's wasting time,
but god knows it never feels like time wasted when she watches those eyelashes close.

everything was so soft. everything was so calm.
well, except our hearts. they were racing.
and it was awkward, but it was sweet. i spent my time biting my lip so i wouldn't touch them against yours. you spent your time taking pictures, to keep your fingers busy. on the camera, off my hair. and it brought us to our knees, almost. the weight of everything.
why me? of all people, why give me her present? i asked but never got an answer. but it sat by my bedside every night.
we were desperate lovers, desperate for change. desperate for some resemblances of the past, but rewritten.
older, even. more mature.
and well, the heat of the summer lit that flame in our hearts, and the rest of us. and you may have steered that ship, but my hands were on the wheel.
but eventually my hands gripped razors instead of bedsheets. and your kisses weren't sweet anymore. instead of burying your hands in my hair, they were buried in yours - in grief. we both broke, from the weight of the world. i told you we'd never be Atlas and you begged to try anyway.
why, though? you knew i was broken, you knew you were too. with cracks in the cornerstone, why did you keep building?
you sent that canary into a coal mine and you cried when it was dead.
just bury it. you always were so good at keeping a straight face; it won your poker game every time.
just smoke another one, you know you'd want to. why didn't you?
i don't understand why you were so broken. let alone why i was.
and when i asked, you could only say,
"it just all ended so...
abruptly."

it's funny -
every time we take a second to breathe,
we notice how different things are.
from before him.
to him.
to me.
to losing me.
to gaining me,
for me to leave again.
and somehow,
managing to slip through the cracks
into you and me.
to slip into a stride that has,
for some unknown, ******* reason
has always felt right.
****** knee, ****** hip,
we always manage to have that stride.
parallel,
oh god but so perpendicular.
and when you're quiet, i speak
and sometimes the other way around.
we've lost touch with those pathetic,
dramatic grasps of air and
breath and love and it's such
a relief, to be where we are.
to be given what we fought so hard for.
oh but isn't it funny,
how now that you have what you
said you begged for,
how you've lost so much.
lost a place and a sense of worth
and maybe confidence that
never really was there in the first place.
but you have me.
i warned you i was venom and
****** and poison -
and at times you may be content
believing that those are
inflated metaphors to coax my ego.
but my words are sharp, too sharp,
sharper than most knives because,
well - you love me.
and when words are cheap,
i make them worth their
weight in gold.
and you,
you're soft and malleable.
and god do i tear that apart sometimes.
but remember something -
when we were children, we had
silly putty that we loved,
but loved to destroy.
but the greatest part is
how it always came back together in the end,
with your fingerprints and dirt and
dust of the memories of that day
imprinted in it.
maybe it isn't pleasant and
i apologize for taking pleasure in that,
but i love you in my own way.
take a few steps back -
like i love to do when i ramble.
and remember i said
you're soft and malleable.
and please don't ever change -
because do you know
what else is soft?
malleable?
gold.
you're golden, baby.
and don't ever lose that shine.
i have loved you,
i love you,
i always will love you.
scars and mistakes and
addictions and tears.
laughter and sweets and
music and friends.
i love you.
don't ever forget it.
you're the golden girl.