break me in
like a new
pair of shoes;
i might give
you blisters,
but only for
the first mile
or two.

and sometimes i
forget my mouth
is meant for making
words, and when i
drink i can get mean.
but i come with a
money back guarantee:
it's all right there in the
warranty.

scribble something
significant on a bar
room napkin; write
"i was here" on a
bathroom stall

just to let some passing
stranger know you were
there, and you were
sentient, and sensitive,
alive and suffering, and
you mattered.

put me in the
***** seat
of your bike:
i wanna
feel you
in my arms
and between
my thighs.

i won't say
i love you.
i won't ask
you to stay
when you
can't. i will
never hold
the hushed
promises
you sneak
to me in the
dark against
you when
the day
makes you
break them.

but if you
let anyone
else
touch you,
hold you,
*******,
like i do:
i will see
red.

i hope you don't
think i didn't
tell you that i'm
sorry
because i'm
not the type of
person
to say it over the
the phone;

i didn't say it
because i'm not
sorry,
and i never will be:
you self obsessed
*******.

didnt make it to
your wedding
but i sent your
anniversary gift
in mid-december
despite the
june event.

the circumstances
felt cold to me
anyway.

I held him
like the sky
holds the moon:
through the night.

He turned my arms
to jasmine:
tangled himself
in my veins
[I mean vines]
until I grew
around his shape,
and then cut himself
free
come sunrise.

I still reach for him
in the dark:
the reckless god boy
in star-child clothing;
loose lipped
and wonder-eyed.

i spent my
y o u t h
at the foot
of your bed:
complaining
about school,
and hanging
my head.

i want your
lament logic
and your
tangent tongue;

i want your shape
in my mattress,
and your breath
in my lungs.

"you win some,
you lose some"
says the boy
who's never lost
one ******* thing
in his ******* life.

bird on the branch:
i find myself
fascinated by
the speed in which
you crane your neck;
quick flashes of
movement,
an attempt
to see this quick life
from all directions.

When you're drunk
you talk in figure
eight’s: the same
figure eight’s
we made beneath
strobe lights
when we were
young.

I spent New Year's Eve
collecting patches
of carpet burn
like they were badges
of your affection.
My mouth read the words
along the seam
of your inner thigh:
love hurts—
and I believed
them.

Not for the first time,
I got caught in one
of your smoke rings:
listening to you
and everyone
talk
[about me]
without talking
[about me].

Kiss me
with slander
still stuck
in your teeth.

we like to
kid about
ruining
each other:

because
we know
the potential
is there.

i am not
ready for
you to
wreck me:

but the
potential
is there.

it came to
me spoken
from the voice
of everything
that ever was
and ever
will be:

stop *******
around with
white boys.

i am growing
my hair out,
long,
for a boy.

it climbs down
the column of
my throat,
reaching for
knotting
fingers:

the tale,
in reverse,
of samson and
delilah.

how do i
become
significant
in the life
of a boy
who claims
the stars,
and the
unexplored
caverns of
the universe,
are overrated?

you made me
stronger for
the next boy:

but god,
how i was
only working
for you.

i wanted
it to be you
so bad.

i still
do.

i am the game
that had you
hooked for
weeks; until
you mastered
the levels and
learned
the cheats.

wine for
breakfast:
the taste
is both
grape jelly
in a
childhood
summer
sweet;
and rock
bottom
bitter,
on my new
morning
tongue.

every single
detail about
you reminds
me:

we are
gods;

but i was
never holy
before
you.

I.
it's like
talking
to a
*******
wall.

II.
get  over
yourself.

III.
you take
everything
so *******
personal.

IV.
*******,
seriously.

V.
i'm sorry
too.

VI.
it's not like
i'd stop
talking to
you.

the words that
leave your
mouth don't
die once they
hit the air:

they sink
into my head
and i carry them
there.

the more i
love you the
more it
occurs to me:

to love you
is to love
the slow
destruction
of the self.

you dont
believe
in ghosts
but you're
the only
one who
sees
me.

i will
bend
into
any
shape
you'll
have
me
in.

****
dignity:

i want
you.

i have only
known love
balanced on
the axis of
comprosmise.

why the ****
would you
advise me to
speak my mind
if you never
intended to
listen?

ive let you
wade into the
rivers of my
body with
your clothes
still on,
and your
indifference
made them feel
more like
rivlets of rainwater

i am trying
to learn
the language
of letting go
with a tongue
swollen with
the thick accent
of holding on.

i thought
he was
special:

i thought
i was
special.

i am not
a boy in
a dress or
a girl in
basketball
shoes:

i am
saltwater
wrath and
******
teeth in
the dark;

all that was
before you
and all that
will remain
after.

longing like
daisy chains
choke-collared
around my
lungs:

i only want
to breathe in
the air
between our
tongues.

i still can't tell
if the longing
i felt
was innate
or passed
down to
me.

how can i
tell a boy
who laughs
at the concept
of souls
that he
sates
mine?

i spoke to
a stranger
with a
hair-trigger
self destruct
button that
they wanted
to push:
and god,
how i wanted
to help-
but when
it came time
for me
to leave,
i left.

trusting tarot cards
and boys with
long, thin
hands:
just trying to make it
into some
long-term
plans.

i realized today
we both are afraid
of being left.

lavender and
lemongrass:
november and
an empty
moon.

i'll take
any shape
you ask me to,
just as long
as it takes me
closer to you.

october boy:
i wanna make you
my forever boy;
my never sever
always together,
whenever boy.

I look for
doors
in boys
like I look
for boys
in doorways:

just give me
someplace
to go
and someone
to follow.

Oh,
how many times
has a boy taken
a sledgehammer
to my body
and called it
love?