But maybe you'll catch me
on a day like today
when the world is languid, when
the very air hangs around us, stifling all
words but mine. You see, today
I am glorious. I am filled with fire
and purpose. Oh, you
who I have not yet forgotten
or know, wait till you catch up
on a day like today. My laughter
is bright and my eyes are clear
and I am so full of energy you will
ignore the one off note
in my symphony, the one aftertaste
you can't quite place.
Dearest
on days like these I am
effulgent, magnetic, insanely, wildly tempting,
I am the siren call in the storm, promising
a safe harbor from the tempest you have
failed to notice I am creating.
On days like these I will beckon
and you will come, ignoring the bitterness
I leave on your tongue
and the clamminess I leave on your hands and
the dead look in my sparkling eyes.
On days like these I am running headlong
blind, willingly unseeing, heady with unspoken promise
to my distruction. If you want
you can come along for the ride.

You're gonna tell me
you miss me
and when I don't answer, hope
I didn't get the message
I didn't check my phone
anything, anything but the truth.

You're gonna tell me
you miss me
and when I don't answer, maybe
understand why, but more likely
wonder what's happening
after all, we worked out our problems
right?

You're gonna tell me
you miss me
and when I don't answer, know
(even though you won't relize)
exactly how I felt every single time
I tried to tell you
I love(d) you.
Remember?

Though your love is a
truth, it remains one that I
need to hear from you.

When you are not here
to help me fight my fears, I
run from them- and you.

I am losing this
battle, the one to stay here
against my instincts.

You set off every
alarm bell I have ever
rigged up against pain.

Every alarm bell I
constructed against the world-
never intended

Accepting your words
           I needed
as only fear-
           I'm crumbling.

My perch up here is so
precarious. Though you led
me to this now, so surefooted upon
the steep trails we have
not dared broach for
these long months, I am scared
the warm sound of your voice
will soon fade, and here
on top of the world without
a hand to hold, though now
I am giddy, it will grow cold. You see,
on top of the world makes
it so much easier
to fall.

Jagged little pill
smooth little pill
soft little pill-
           fill my head with cotton
                 but make everything clearer.

Square little pill
round little pill
oval little pill-
           paint the world in shades of binary
                 a collection of dualities
                       a simplification of choices.

White little pill
brown little pill
orange little pill-
           fuel the fire inside my belly
                 but exhaust me
                       take away my hunger for life
                             outside of the lines you have drawn.

Nexium
Jarro-Dophilus
Aderall-
           of all the little pills every morning
                 the ones the doctors prescribe and question
                       the ones I am never sure if I can feel
                             the ones whose effects are dubious and enigmatic
                                   you are the most quantifiable, and the only one
                                         with whom my relationship is Daedalean.

Kerosene eyes
everywhere you
look, sparkling-
deceptive, I think
I would like to dive
until I sip
and burn my tongue on you.

Stong shoulders
everything you
support, worlds-
dependable, I think
I would like to rest
until I lean
and you dissapate like summer mist.

Feverish fingers
everyone you
brush, warming-
blooming, I think
I would like to thaw
until I touch
and suddenly find myself blazing.

The screams coming from
downstairs are shredding my ears
and stealing my sleep.

I squeezed
myself smaller-
around you I
am not legitimate.

So long ago, I raised
this up, all of my
expectations piled up like
so many building blocks.

now I sit here, trying
to find all the hope
I had constructed
my expectations of.

So long ago, I watched
as we crumbled, all of us
and everything we were falling
down like demolished children's toys.

now I sit here, trying
to understand why, if I watched
us fall apart, knowing the end,
I am still disappointed.

Softly, softly
we step into your mind
quiet and reverent
in our solemn intent.
- words I wrote for you
- books I have read
- places I have been, both
with and without you
- a drawing of my happiness
- your words, to encompass
my pain
I find all of these
where you reside, and as always,
as you are, so much
more than I will ever understand.
when I step out, pieces of
you, cotton-soft, cling to
everything I touched you with. Though
I would love nothing
more than to have stepped lightly in
and out, to not leave a mark
to not sully the purity
of what was before me, I know
this is not possible. The shreds
will cling to me, and I
will cling to the shreds, because
even though I would rather take
nothing, change nothing, be
as inconsequential as nothing, circumstances
have led me to the great
and terrible beauty
of the honor to carry with me
pieces of you.

And then I watched
as your smile stiffened
(imperceptibly, you thought)
and your embraces grew shorter
(I wouldn't notice, you told yourself)
while your laughter rang, forced,
(at least you were trying)
and when we fell asleep,
(you thought this would be)
I saw only your back.
*(more comfortable.)

Sitting here again, I feel the ghosts
of our memories layed around me
now, intertwined. So long ago, this
would have been enough- warmth

from friendship and from our bodies, that
was enough- quiet breathing, maybe
contented smiles, maybe not, only
peace all around us.

And then we got up. We decided
peace and warmth were not
enough, we forsook these
for teasing conversation, later

for barbed words, later
even these would be replaced
by stiff silence. Once
you comforted me as I shook here

and wiped my tears away
as they fell. Now,
I sit here still, and wish
to live in memories.

Two inches
between us.
I am

dancing

through this
minefield.

4 AM is the only hour
when I will ever allow myself the luxury
of crying for you. This reservoir of brine
I have dried into desertland painstakingly, siphoning
the smallest tears from their ducts,
has suddenly sprung up again, surprising
overwhelming everything-

I lost you purposefully,
dropping shreds of you on
every step I took
back for myself as
I walked away. First, the songs
you sang in the shower,
testing your lungs, dissipated
like the faint sheen of water
adorned you upon emerging,
a full-body halo. Next,
the songs you would hum to me
quietly, when I couldn't sleep, ends
trailing off as I surrendered to slumber-
I let their unravelings reach
the middles, now, until they fell from me,
the trappings of a life gone, threads
moths of forgetfulness gnawed
from around me, until I stepped
out of what was once
my only covering, protection,
and walked away. Finally,
I tried to reclaim the songs we
had shared, the songs I had loved
and you had loved me
with, the ones you had quoted
to try and convince me how true
how faithful you would be, the melody
I could always return to, the melody
I could always rely on.
I failed. They will always
remain yours.
I lost you purposefully, and with you
went bits of myself.

Don't belittle your pain.
Don't bottle it up
Unseen
Unless small parts shove
           themselves out
Like a collection of knives
Inside a (breathing, living)
           carcass.
When the knife
Breaks through
With its harsh, sharp gleam,
Don't push it back in
Deeper
Or say it's nothing
(with a pain(t)ed smile).
I see the stains
of denied blood
Against the shine
of cold steel.
And if you say
it's nothing
How can I fix you?

You were my sweetest downfall-
I loved you most
I loved you more
than I ever should have.
The taste of you;
honey-sweet in my mouth
heady on my tongue
left me giddy and floating.
And when my senses returned
to be only my own,
the absence of you
which I had known, intimately, and forgotten
was suddenly bitter, though tinged-
the saccharine aftertaste
of a sweetness lost.
And now you try, but you
cannot part my lips
the way I thirsted for
everything you were- for
you are different, love, your sweetness
is now contaminated, though
you are here, you taste bitter,
the taste of your absence and my tears.
I lay myself before you, before
everything you were, before
you arose and walked away, before
my walls rose to protect me.
I tried to bring them down, before
I realized I now have need of them.
You were my sweetest downfall-
I loved you most, and now
I have to go.
I have to go.

Death made you a thief, love.
While in life you gave
everything, selflessly and endlessly, death
has made of you
a thief, stealing and taking-
back- all that you were

taking back everything you graced
to our world- your laughter
and angers, your happiness-

you take everything
I (never thought) was (yours)-
my sleep, my happiness
my heart.

Death made you a thief, love,
but even in death
even as a thief
you have my love.

A shining portal, shimmering
in tiny glints that enchant us. We
plunge in, emerge exilerated, dripping, free
having removed and placed aside
all the trappings of our daily lives, all
the tiny disguises we wear
daily, unthinking, all the walls we construct
to keep the world at bay. At this bay
we surrender, immerse, maybe secretly hoping
that the salt water will sting the eyes
watching you, so that you are not seen
fully, after you have removed your surreptitious armor.
Later, we will wear it again, dressing
in the clothes and glasses and jewelry
we have built our visible selves from, more comfortable
now that we are covered, protected.
But the vision of you uncovered, plainly yourself
will not leave me for a while-
it has seeped through my cracks
and is staying like those tiny grains of sand
I can never completely wash off.

Don't try to pin me down. Instead,
let me flutter gently around the twinkling lights
that look intriguing to me at the moment.
Don't try to catch me. Instead,
watch me keep my distance and try to understand
that I can still exist happily in the freedom of solitude.
Don't try to predict my changes. Instead,
know that even I cannot usually do so, and try,
if you so wish, to weather with me my changing seasons and summer storms.
Don't try to immitate me. Instead,
realize how beautiful you are as yourself and furthermore,
I am not something you should immitate, want to be.
Don't try to change me. Instead,
accept me as I am. Though your forced changes may indeed be better
for me, your acceptance will make me want to better myself.
Don't try to explain me. Instead,
internalize that some things are inexplicable
and that my reasons for being this are so much uglier than you see.
Don't try to justify me. Instead,
remember that even those who are hard to grasp
make mistakes, even horrible ones, and sometimes need someone not to forgive.
Don't try to destroy me. Instead,
listen to me when I warn that many have tried, purposefully
or otherwise, and I am not so fragile as I look. You will end up burnt.
Don't try to push me away forcefully. Instead,
ask me to go. I will understand, I promise
I only want distance to be a respectfully created space, not a hidden minefield.
Don't try to reel me in. Instead,
if I come to land near you, bear in mind that this is rare
but, too, bear in mind you have no obligation to want me here.
Please, don't try to pin me down.
If you ever do., I will be a dead thing of former splendor
pinned to your corkboard, and you will finally understand me
when all of my entrails come spilling out, displayed to you
and I lay, helpless.

All the best nights of my life
have faded with time into the air I breathe
have solidified with time into the foundations
upon which I build my life. All the laughter
and sometimes tears, all the embraces
and the early morning chatter which is so abstract
and yet so real, I will never remember exactly
as it was, but they make me love you
all the more, nonetheless.

I am not going home.
You can try to pull me back
Tell me all the reasons you love me
Remind me of all my duties and obligations
Call to the moral compass that never points north inside of me-

The one you planted in place of the heart you stole.
But I will not come back, not to the house
That is called "home" through sheer force of habit.

Name a wolf "sheep"- he will turn on his "brothers"
Name a devil angelic- he will cause the downfall of heaven
Name a leopard a lapdog- his spots will not change.

I named you loving, tender, gentle.
I called you moral, caring, I dared to try and call you mine.
I have spoken falsely, the sheer force of my want
Making me liar, a false prophet.

I am not going home-
My home is in my own heart
And you are not in it.

To reach out
and touch your cheek,
thistledown-light finger
upon the peach-fuzz softness
that is your skin.
I am quiet, reverent
not quite daring to believe
that this sleeping human (you
are so much more than human
and yet your flaws are compliments
to your other-worldly perfection
that root you solidly
to my terra firma) could ever exist
let alone exist here and now-
sleeping so soundly, so peacefully-
and you are mine to touch
as gently as I please.