Breathe life into
the skeleton of my soul,
I want to taste
your smoke lips.

I like it here
in your ocean,
quench the flames of my pain
in the midnight
of your embrace

I am desperate –  
     for all the effortless things

just so my blood has a chance to
     sing for something
          again

but out of all the open air that
     has kissed my skin
          and all the people who
                were lucky to love me

the only easement I knew
     was you
           and before, during, after

well,
     I was never enough for myself –
          not once, not ever

so I find myself
     aching for the effortlessness
          but not aching for you in the way
       I used to

I can’t find it – my effortlessness –
     without you
          because I believe they
               are one in the same

so I wander –
     a drifting soul –
          from progression to progression

congratulations

you seem so happy

I am so proud

all these tangible things –
     they will never bring me the
          easement I knew from only you

the smell of iron,
and spreading blood
across my palm
let me tell you my own future
from the ****** hand prints on
bathroom tile and
the taste of beer and *****
that still lingers.

the door slams,
you heave me into your arms
and we sit on toilet porcelain,
this is me in my most honest hour--
the warmth of skin on your neck
mixing with the warmth of the blood on my palm,
and I can't tell which I want more now.
you're not dying tonight
but if this is what dying gets me,
let me fade away in your arms.
listen to the sound of heartbreak
as my facade shatters like glass,
and I sob against your velvet skin.

soft words, gentle hands,
as you clean my blood
when all I can say is don't
your voice--deep and sure
I can still hear it
just like I can still taste the blood
from my own veins.

now I am left with a nasty scar
that tells the story
of our friendship
let me read you my own future
from these blood-free palm lines,
and I still can't see you in it.

You ask me my thoughts,
but how do I tell you I've been considering all the different things I can break to create critical scars on beautiful veins ever since you took my favorite blade?
You remember when we drank strawberry milk out of wine glasses?
Or that time we walked in the rain,
slowing instead of speeding up because
rain doesn't wash anything away
not skin or scars or secrets
and how do I tell you that I don't love you,
and that I really wanted to run that day?
But instead I stare into ocean eyes, smile, and just tell you
I'm lost