I think love is like crossing what you think is an empty freeway and then suddenly realizing that there's a fast approaching truck going over the speed limit. You look at it, blinded and awed by its bright lights. You couldn't move. You're stuck. You want to move but you can't so you just look at it. You know you're going to get hit hard and the pain will be excruciating, bone crushing and inevitable but you just stare anyway.

I think love is like crossing what you think is an empty freeway. You're just crossing, minding your own business when you suddenly feel an impact seemingly out of nowhere. You lay on the concrete, legs tangled, bones crushed and your vision blurring but you're alive. It hurts everywhere but you're still alive. You feel every pain in your body and you just want it to end but somehow you're still breathing through broken ribs and punctured lungs. You're still alive.

I think I hate the cold because it always feels like the day you left. I feel myself dropping off your things and I see you light up the cigarette you just developed a habit for as you walk me to my car, as if we aren't now strangers. I prayed desperately that you'd change your mind at the sight of my face as you always would before, that you'd remember that you needed me to feel alive and to show you all the ways that you change the world just by staying. You were supposed to be as broken as I was, take shelter with me under the covers and lie with me, face to face, tell me through your tears how much you've missed me and how you made a mistake so that I can stare back at the face I've been dreaming of holding in my hands again, the face with eyebrows pressed and that look of I-can't-believe-how-much-I-love-you and why-haven't-you-given-up-on-me, and I can convince you to forgive yourself so that I can love you, because I'd already started and it was much too hard to stop now. I was supposed to show you the space between my ribs that you left wide open and the holes in my chest where all your butterflies escaped and the torn pieces of the wings that left too quickly, and you were supposed to show me the emptiness in your bones and your eyes that could only see in black and white and the glass far away where all the color hid itself from you. But that's not how it went and you didn't change your mind this time. You didn't need me to feel alive because you had your cigarettes and your new friends and your high. And you weren't as broken as I was and you had no tears and your face was a shade I didn't recognize and it didn't read at all how you loved me. My words drew no more expression from your face than a sorry for the hurt and you wouldn't forgive your own brother if he made me ache the way you did. I showed you all the things that broke when you left and all the things essential to my being that you stole away along with you, but you didn't show me your bones or your eyes and you didn't have to because I saw them anyway despite your efforts to shield them. Your bones were as empty as they'd always been and your eyes were empty, too, but you weren't going to let me wrap around you anymore when you're too brittle to stand and you weren't going to let me keep painting the world in colors you can see. You were all locked up and you wanted to be, and my fingers were always bleeding just trying to unlock you. And you weren't going to heal them with your lips and show me the secret anymore. You wanted me to shiver outside with my bleeding hands and frozen tears and unanswered prayers. And that's exactly how you left me. I think I hate the cold because it's much colder now. I hate the cold because every day feels like the day you left.

As we lie dying
the little death,
pull me close
beneath your chin
and hold me tight.
Breathe me in,
feel my heat,
wear me warm
like a well worn blanket.
I will weave you a dream
of dyed wool, desert moons
and a Paiute wind.
I'll dream us through
this long night.
Wrap yourself in me
and rest easy.
Breathe me in,
sleep in me, wear me
like you need to.
And when you awake
I'll still be here
like the desert moon
in a Paiute wind.

r 7/15/14

you were leaning against the frame of your back door, backlit and beautiful with the setting summer sun casting shadows on your face. i felt so alive in that moment, with the days stretching before us, and the countless days behind us, the ones we'd already blazed a trail through. i could remember the feel of your smile on mine from the night before and wondered if you would do it again. the stars were not on my mind at all; why would they be when you were looking at me like that and your jawline told stories of long nights past and i could smell strawberries in the air?

You're sleeping next to me
the time on your old digital clock
lights up the room in neon green
6:23 am

my head hurts from crying myself to sleep
but you already knew that

You're sleeping next to me
or trying to rather,
the sun fill the room as the clock
the clock just stares at me
8:47 am

I should have left before you'd notice.
I don't want to see you
I don't even want to talk about what you said

6 months ago I promised i'd stop writing about you,
here i am
or here we are

here i am
there is no we
there hasn't been
but somehow even in my dreams your words
your words haunted me
"... I just don't love you anymore."

My heart aches for you.
Can't you feel it too?