I love you.
With all of my being I love you.
To take a bullet for you,
I would not hesitate.
My only request would be
To please aim for the brain
And not the heart,
So that my heart remains in tact
To continue loving you
For as long as the sky stretches
And as deeply as the ocean rests.

You hurt me
More than you realize,
And I love you
More than you will ever know.

Was loving you
Intended to be
The thing
To make me happy?
Or was it only
A reassurance
That I
Was still able
To feel?

Fall into these arms,
My darling.
Rest your head on my chest.
Never mind the words you spoke
That hurt me so,
I am aware of only your pain.
Under my breath
I repeat the prayer
For God to take it from you
And lay it on my shoulders,
To allow you silence of mind
For just a few moments.
Close your eyes now,
My sweetest.
There is no one left.
Just you and I
In a night of still darkness.
Fall asleep now
On my breast
And be still,
Be still,
As I breathe you in
And you breath in I,
In a long-waited quiet calm,
With nothing but two hearts beating,
And one broken soul.

I despise you and my love for you,
For a love like this can not be true.
Infatuated by you,
As I should no longer be,
Yet I would die for you,
You just as my friend.
I resent you and everything that you are,
Every kiss I want to place on each of your scars,
The things that I hate,
Have me dreaming at night,
And it is only you
I will have at life's end.
I refuse to believe our love could be real,
Everything I know, everything I feel,
Could it all be true?
Or is it just a game?
I love you, my darling,
I can not pretend.
I can not find a thing that keeps you in my heart,
But I know that nothing could ever keep us apart.
I love you, like heaven,
Like what I could not see,
You are my world,
Until our bones descend.

Such a strange phenomenon
To wake up missing the person
Sleeping soundly next to you
Knowing that what you once had
Has left with the August storms,
Back to the sky
To be carried away
For the use of another.
I suppose it is only fair
To let others have a chance
At what we had.
Someone was kind enough
To do the same for us.

I long to be beside you again.
You with your waist-long hair,
Black as the Arizona night sky
You slept under,
Showing me just exactly
Where the mountains mourn your people.
You taught me
How to speak to the moon
So she can hear me.
You said,
"This earth is our mother.
Let her cradle you,
Hold you close to her breast.
Love her back.
Because too many never did."

I'm hanging by a thread.
I have no fight left in me.
Turn over your shoulder
And you will no longer find
The man willing to stand for himself.
Instead, in his place,
You will find a small child
Weeping at your feet,
Begging you not to cut the thread
That's keeping my heart beating
Slow, like a heavy dripping faucet.

I'm trying to feel at home here.
Sitting in your kitchen,
Staring across at you,
Dipping my fingers
In this lavender pool
And adorning my fingertips
With candle wax hoods.
It's been three months
And I'd thought I'd be better by now.
But your lights still seem too yellow
And your milk still tastes like water.

You're busy reading the back of your new album,
And I think you've forgotten I'm here.
Your grandmother sobs
In the room next to us.
I take two deep breaths
Of the custard air in the room
Before I can quietly say,
"Um. Your grandmother is crying again."
A pause.
"She does that alot,"
You say, never once looking from your album.
"Oh."
I allow the space between us to fill again.
"W-why does she do that?"
A pin just dropped.
"She just does.
Every time she thinks of Palisades Park.
Which is often."
"Oh."

Something inside of me feels sad.
Something inside of me is angry at you
For not caring.
Why don't you go to her
And tell her it's alright?
Remind her that the mail comes again tomorrow,
And maybe she'll have something in the morning.
But no.
You don't even move.
I look down at this candle,
Cratered like the face of the moon.
I stand up and walk out.
You don't even notice.

The lamp is the life support of this room,
Barely giving light in orange tones,
Your grandmother a lump on the couch.
I stare at her from a distance,
In this room that does not feel like home either.
Slowly and nearly tip-toed, I approach the couch.
My body is shaking,
But I sit down beside her.
She does not turn, she does not stir,
But she tries to hush her sobs.

I’ve tried to feel at home here.
But no matter how many times your mother says it,
“Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”
I still feel the need to ask permission
To even turn on the TV,
And your father is still
The single most intimidating man I know.

This isn't home.
This will never be.
The itch will always stay.
Forever will I long for my staircase,
And the study,
And my home.
I try, but this is not home.
I look at your grandmother once more,
Seeing bits of her break
With each sob.
I reach out and hold her hand,
"It's alright,"
I say,
Though nothing is alright.
"It's alright,"
I say,
"It's okay."

Please don't stop speaking.
Please don't ever stop.
Though I refuse your eye contact
And look away,
Believe me when I tell you
That I hear every word.
I love every word.
You could speak of nothing at all,
Ignoring that talk of death I'm so fond of
And still I'd want you next to me
Speaking in that voice
That makes you sound like you're terrified.
Please don't ever stop.
Even as I look up at you
Through eyelashes and half closed lids
Weeping like death just walked in,
Please don't ever stop speaking,
Confused as you may be.

She was gone before the sun arose.
I don't know when she left my bed,
But I know that she was here.
For though her imprint on my mattress
Has cooled and faded,
Her lipstick stains show bright on my pillow,
Two ******, mirroring arches
On a field of snow
I clearly recall
Her icy, cold fingertips on my spine
Waking me up twice in the night
Before I found the morning
Without her there.

Such childless and clueless fools,
That it makes me fall into laughter
To think that men still search high and low
For the gold they've always been after.
And how jealous, I'm sure, they all would be
If they found that swirling in this glass
Is liquid gold that makes me one
With the writers of ages past.
Silence is golden, or so they say,
But this gold I own births words.
For one thin river down my throat
Flow out words that have never been heard.
Still the voices in my head warn of addiction.
But perhaps their thirst is great as mine.
Is not that how i started drinking gold?
I could no longer quench them with wine.
I am always alone, so it seems
So nobody sits in my path
Of things I could potentially hurt
If I have more than one glass.
So I will continue with liquid gold,
Feeding my paper with words,
Until my eyes are filled with tears
And my poems turn into lines blurred.

I hate that I should feel guilty
For being lonely.
As if my loneliness
Translates to me being needy,
When some girl much prettier than I
Reminds me
That there is always someone
Underneath my covers.
But with all this skin on skin,
Why do I feel so out of touch?
Where is the feeling of feeling
That I crave so much?
And why does the man sleeping next to me,
The one who just learned more about me
Than even I know,
Feel so much like a stranger?

What is the purpose anymore
Of writing hopeful love letters to you?
Nothing more than a box filled with papers
Set aside to never be looked at again.
No stamp will ever cling to them,
No kiss shall ever seal them.
They serve me no purpose,
They bring me no answers.
Instead I write letters to her,
Some as simple as little reminders:
That you like your eggs overcooked,
That the color orange makes you naseous.
That you only drink tea with cream,
And that the ocean makes your heartache.
To remember to wake you
With kisses upon your eyelids,
And always before the sun rises.
Still I find myself writing more than reminders.
At night, when the moon stops speaking,
And the crickets will not answer,
I write her pleads.
I set aside my pride,
And find myself begging.
I beg her to please hold you tightly when you sleep,
To please forgive your stubborn, irrational fits,
I beg her to cherish your soul more than gold,
To wipe away your tears when you think about your mother.
And at the end of every letter I write,
I bow my knees down on these pages,
And on my knees I beg her.
I beg her to please love you.
To love you the way you deserve to be loved.
To love you as much as I always have,
In the way I never could.

You're angry again.
You came home again,
The smell of whiskey and frustration
On your breath,
Ready to remind me
Of everything I do wrong.
You start with the yelling.
But the yelling I can take.
It's when you start to throw things--
The lamp, the plates, the chairs--
That my heart begins to ache.
I never fear you hurting me--
Nothing you've ever thrown has striked.
But it's the way you throw things
Without a care
Of which items you toss and break,
But never once
Do you let go
Of the bottle in your hand.
Objects fly across the room,
But you never loosen your grip
On the neck of your bottle.
You hold it and never let it go,
The same way you promised
You would do to me
When I was still young and beautiful.
You promised.
You said you'd hold me
And never let me go.
I envy your bottle,
And long to once again
Be the one between your fingers.
But you will never love me as much
As you love that glass and whiskey.

I remember seeing you stand there. Underneath the streetlight, right? Remember how you used to hold your breath every time a car would drive by, praying to God that they wouldn't stop. You weren't one of them. "Hey pretty baby, you lost?" Yes. Yes. Yes you were. But they weren't out at night to hand out directions. You wish. Remember how there was always at least one kind lady? "Honey, there's a shelter near by. Just down the road from here. Why don't you just go stay there instead?" Sure. Over your dead body. You were not one of them. You were not. I saw you. I remember. You started to rub your hands on the rust of the streetlight pole. You were getting nervous. You were getting nervous and afraid that you were running out of time. But for what? Right. Nowhere to be.

I pity these dead moths
And their foolish minds.
They lie in rest
Under the very same street light
That they died for.
I can not help but to think
That if only these moths
Could aquire some wisdom,
They could learn to desire the light
The same way I desire you:
Knowing that the second I touch
I get burned,
Yet remaining as close as possible,
So that I may experience
The beauty
Of your warmth and radiance
Without ever truly touching.

The feeling of his arm around her
Brought upon new feelings,
A comfort and security
That made her wish      
She could remain there forever.
But the feeling of his arm around her
Also brought back memories
That made her throat tighten,
Made her stomach lurch,
And made her pull away
Like a dog beaten one too many times.

I have no recollection of what attracted me to you
Nor do I remember knowing it then.
There stood no physical attraction--
My stomach did not flutter in your presence
Nor did I long for your skin.
But only heaven knows
What I would have given
To remain there forever with you
Listening to your voice
Speaking of what used to be.
How I longed to fall asleep
On that Arizona ground
To the deep cadence of your voice.
But alas the day closed,
And the car pulled away.
With every second
I saw you shrink further away,
The car forcing us worlds apart
As you remained in yours
And I returned to mine.

The morning breeze
Eats away at my cigarette
Before my lips even touch it.
Looks like a storm is coming,
And God I hope one is--
It would be nice to know
That someone as significant
As the planet
Is feeling the same way I am.
The morning dew
Soaks from this porch step
Onto my jeans,
And I consider all the expectations
I never met.
My fingertips turn to icicles,
Despite a light being inches away,
As I stare at the stream
And wonder if Andy really did jump that night.
I think of saying goodbye,
Running away from marrying a stranger,
Hoping to be a cobweb in somebody's life,
Catching every little thing
That floats by.
But instead here I am,
Lost in time none the less,
After all the lies I told Adam,
And wondering if I could only see the ocean,
Would he choose to forgive me.

This morning before
I ever lifted my head,
I turned to see
Your half of the bed.
And what a harsh reminder
Of how I'm growing old
With your side of the bed
Still unbearably cold.
Your sheets are not tossed,
Your pillow unpressed--
All lovely reminders
Of my current distress.
Was it not merely a month ago
That I was curled against your skin?
We were perfect puzzle pieces,
Your shoulder to my chin.
All day long
We would curl up and sleep
With nothing like time
And business to keep.
But what a terrible disease
Lurked inside my mind.
I never thought I could be
So selfish and unkind.
If only I had known
I was capable of such sin
I never would have let
Our cursed romance begin.
I could promise to never
Let it happen again.
I could take my pills
Like I refused to then.
I could be so much better,
My darling, please see.
If only, if only
You'd come back to me.

Two a.m.
And I stare up towards the ceiling
At a moth circling my light bulb.
I wonder what is so attractive
About my tiny glass sun
And am curious to know
Where the moth will go
When the sun burns out.
And as I stare at this moth
Hypnotized, determined in love,
I debate whether or not I lied to you,
As I slip my hand into my pillowcase
Searching for a sleeping pill
The same size and shape
As Manhattan.

You are finally here
My sweet, sweet child.
The closest thing to heaven
I have ever touched,
An angel sleeping in my arms.
Every part of you is beautiful.
Your eyes are beautiful.
Your nose is beautiful.
Your lips are beautiful.
Your hands the size of my thumb are beautiful.
The touch of your skin creates an ecstasy.
I could look at you all day,
Counting your fingers
And your tiny toes.
I could hold you forever,
Kissing your forehead
Every time you close your eyes.
I long to hold your skin to mine
As I have visions of the future,
You growing and calling me "Mama".
You are my miracle.
And as I watch you suckle at my breast
The thought that you depend on me
For nourishment and life
Presents itself
As the most terrifyingly beautiful thought.
Enough to make tears roll down my face
And unto your porcelain skin.

You spoke as strongly as your father,
But you with a sense of restlessness.
I had never seen sadder eyes.
I had never seen someone more determined.
You stood taller than the sycamores
And stronger than the osage.
Your back was baked by the sun
And your hands chiseled by the earth.
I believe the spirits wanted us,
That they secretly cheered for our victory.
That they did not fear us breaking tradition,
For the sake of maintaining life's greatest tradition.
You told me your mother loved me,
But she was no match for your father.
She would not even dare.
She believed in fear in marriage.
Your father is a good man,
I know.
But he has a legacy to uphold.
So it remains as it is.
You in your world
And I in mine.
Fully intended to be together.
Destined to be apart.

Oh to drag my shaking fingers
Through the cracked Arizona ground once more,
Your dark face staring back at me
Sitting upon the land your fathers promised you,
Promising to stand beside you
As you battle the salted waters.
Oh I would give it all back to you,
My sweet love from a land beyond.
This earth that rightfully belongs to you
And the cracks upon her face,
The junipers in their genorosity,
The moon, a goddess in all her radiance.
I would give it all back in a heartbeat,
Heavy as the thunders in monsoon.
I would give it all back to tell your fathers
That you never failed them,
Even when they came to you with guns.

I spent last night
With a homeless man.
He asked to *** a cigarette,
And next thing you know,
Hours passed
Just sitting on a New York bench,
And talking about life.
He told me about his dream
To be an astronaut,
And how he would give anything
To tell his mother he was sorry.
At one point,
He put his hand on my chest
And felt my heart beating
For a few seconds.
He looked into my eyes
And asked me why I was so sad.
No reason.
I'm not sad.
It's just cold,
And I was just thinking
That August never sticks around
As long as I'd like.

I loved him more than was allowed
More than whatever was acceptable.
And though I tried to suppress it,
I had no shame in this love.
Should I ever feel guilty
For learning how to love so genuinely?
So selflessly?
Few times had I done it before.
I do believe I loved you.
I do believe I did.

I am not allowed to love you.
And so I do not.
I do, however,
Love the way you greet me.
I love the way you laugh.
I love how angry you get
When the radio plays the wrong song.
I love your teeth.
I love your conviction.
I love how paranoid
You can be at times.
I love the way you love to live.
I love your angry fits.
I love the way you talk about others.
I love how happy you get
When recalling random stories.
I love your confidence.
I love your strange habits.
I love how fearless you are.
I love the way
You defend until it destroys you.
I love it.
I love it all.

I am not allowed to love you.
And so I do not.
There is, however,
A small, timid part of me
That would love for you to read this
So you could know
How much I really do.

It was in that moment
That I knew you were the one,
For when you touched me,
My hand did not pull away from your grasp,
And the terrifying memories
Stayed far away where they belong.
No questions or hesitations,
No shutters as before,
Just my heart leaping with feelings of ecstasy,
Praying that you never let go.

Angel dust
And angel lust
Sleeping with false hopes
Of trust
Like coming down
From ecstasy
While the mother
Fades off next to me.
Finger nails
And powder trails
Forgetting about Larry's
Cautionary tails,
Of summers of bare chests
And teenage ***,
Of young flowers
Hung around our necks.
Getting wasted
Being tasted
Growing up so rushed
And hasted.
Like selling out
Our souls to space
Innocence gone
Without a trace.

I think I was only ever in love
With the thought of you.
I fall in love with many thoughts.
Thoughts of creating,
Thoughts of death and immortality,
Thoughts of hell
And dangerous mystery men.
Yet I remind myself to separate it:
Wants and Thoughts,
Thoughts and Wants.
They are not one in the same.
I like to think that I did not forget
To pick apart this time.
That I did not confuse you
As a thought but not a want
Or a want but not a thought.
I had hoped I got it right.
But this morning I woke up
And realized
I don't want to be your baby anymore.

The door was jammed open
With some rusted *****
To prevent us from being locked out
And into the night.
The chill of the night
And the strength of the nicotine
Had us feeling just like
The floating candles inside.
It's scary.
It's scary to think
That maybe we are in love.
That maybe this is all real.
That maybe we have the greatest
That anyone will ever have.
Especially when we think
That we really are nothing,
Just two young kids,
Holding each other through the night,
Thinking we are something,
Yet fully aware
That we, just like the rest,
Will soon fade to dust in the wind,
Our short vapor
Just air,
Fading out into oblivion,
Just as everyone else.

Oh you old man.
How could you love her,
A girl so young and beautiful??
Simple.
Because she is the sun.
She is life.
Her blushed cheeks are your mornings.
Her braids are your sanctuary.
Her spirit is your air.
They will tell you you don't belong,
You with the face of a troll
And she a goddess in grace.
But you know the truth.
You two were made for each other.
So hold her.
Cover up your ears and hold her.
Hold her close,
Hold her long,
Till death do you part.
Hold her.
Hold her and never let her go.

because we were so stupidly sincere.

You tell me that you love me.
And I believe you.
But you only love me
As much as you have to.
You only love me
As much as is expected of you.

Sometimes I am jealous
Of my own love for you.
I wonder what it must be like
To be loved that much.
To have someone willing
To not only die for you
But to live for you.

I wish I could love you less.
I wish our love could be equal.
But instead your lack of love for me
Is matched by my undying love for you.
There is no balance between us,
Only one parched and dry
And the other overflowing with love.

Oh Mama, sweet Mama
I wish I could do better
These times when I have to be the backbone
Because you are in your room crying.
Oh Mama, sweet Mama
I feel so much like a child at these times.
These times when I play your role,
Adequate wife and nourishing mother.
Oh Mama, sweet Mama,
I am not fit for such a burden.
I hate to disappoint you,
But I fear I fail where you need me.
Oh Mama, sweet Mama,
I feel so old even now.
But someone has to do it.
Because if he carries on
The way he does,
It will surely **** you.
And if "mother" does not carry on
In the house,
He will **** himself.

Come to the cemetery once again
And read poetry with me.
The only place where we have found
The slightest bit of peace.
The world outside is far too loud
And too terribly unkind.
So sit here on this tombstone with me
And find something we might find.
The crows all sing their shrieking songs
To the dead souls resting here.
And we, their only breathing guests,
We read Whitman and Shakespeare.
The stones we labor are cold and hard
Just like the world outside we see.
So come to the cemetery once again
And read poetry with me.

Fear will make you do terrifying things.

I'm not asking for your word,
And you don't need to fear commitment,
Because I do not ask for that either.
You can use me all you like--
I promise I can be
Just like a little doll.
I ask for no promises before,
No duties after,
And everything in between
Is all on your terms.
All I ask,
Is that you hold me
For just a few minutes after.
Hold me as if I were yours.
Because sometimes it's nice to pretend.