To the hopeful ones:
I am unavailable.
Emotionally.

The day you leave daisies in my pocket
is the first time I wore proper pajamas.
Right-handed scissors paint
with matching lip gloss,
attempting to stick words together.
My hands lay limply next to a wine glass
containing nothing but grape juice,
unhappy compromises.

Everything felt pinched and blue.

Last night I decided to write stories on my skin
with little holes in the paper,
nineteen socks under my bed.
I tried to remember the rain,
why it was lovely.
I ended up with wet shoes,
the smell of deserted food court
and secrets billowing from cigarette stubs.

Arizona breezes
carry the taste of hushed whispers,
making phone calls in the place of poetry.
The idea of pheasants,
tiny wrists
black ink crisscrossing,
hurried ‘X’s overlapping.
Flowers grow from stagnant air

Minted antibiotic breaths.

Heart monitors printed in newspapers,
your armada of pre-sharpened pencils
accidentally drip into coffee mugs.
Autopsies knit together,
authors of the curve of your spine.
You keep myths in glass jars
with intricate wire lids.
Why do we question the recipe for battle scars?

I held my breath the other day
To see if I could keep it forever.
I held my breath to see if I may
Hold you in me just for forever.

I inhaled you like smoke
Letting you spread through me,
Drinking from my pipe of
Those moments spent in love
With you. You were a sweet
Burning in me.
Awaiting only the time we would meet,
And I would be with you, you see.

But I was drowning in you.
Lungs burning,
Your sweetness killing me–slowly.
I need to let go, but I need you too.

With a heavy heart, I release you from me.
I exhale you, and I breathe in reality.
Because keeping you is toxic–
A captive bird dies,
But in me still, I can see your eyes.

You were like a breath, in a way.
As soft as the wind.
As redolent as the smell of roses
In spring. And as gone as yesterday.
You were like a breath.

And yes, I still love you darling.
I love you to death.

1 pushup
i forget your face
2 pushups
i forget your fingers
3 pushups
i forget your
lips
i forget your nose
4
for
get
your
shoulders
5
forget
the back of your
neck
6
forget your thighs
touching mine
7
remember our smells
together
spicy
vibrant
8
remember the sound of our shoes
on the pavement
9
remember the river
10
remember the symphony of our laughter
11
oh look
back to 1's
again
well
at least
i know
where i am

her image ransacked
her vision blighted by crawling thief
and she was in hard pursuit
but misery is a folded page
that never reveals its true face
until one is beyond the
redemption of being able to withdraw its poison

i know its hard to
hear one voice in this sea of souls
crying out in fear and pain
thousands of pens and paintbrushes
each etching into the unyielding
tapestry of our world
their own voice
their own vision
their own sorrows and joys

my face obscured to you
my world foreign to you
but we share this moment here now
that my pen speaks to you
if it can tell you nothing more
if my labors embark nothing else
let it be that you have been heard
you are not alone
you have been heard