I wonder what you see when you look at me
I am a stranger, but
there are things you think you know.
And you think you are right.
Every time, your apology
turns into a justification
for the cruel words you threw at me.
Somehow I feel like I understand you
but then I wonder - why?
I could just label you *****,
plain and simple
but I know too much of your own
sorrows
to justify myself.
It just adds to the never-ending
ebbing, pulling,
deep down
pool of grief
we all love to swim in.

We,
you & me,
are co-creators
of heavenly artwork,
sacred patterns of intimacy
& on your porcelain canvas,
I brush my paint
this starry night.

i went back to the place we first met so many years ago
and stood on the bright-black staircase
surrounded by crumbling red brick
and thought of you.

i thought of how when i met you, you didn't have a single tattoo yet;
we were both twelve.
i thought of the time you told me you loved me, stammering in the dark by the old van
when you kissed my shoulder and i laughed
when you tried to put your arm around me in a stiff, respectful, chivalrous sort of way
don't worry - i didn't think you were awkward at all.

you always said you'd get a tattoo of my name
which i thought was so stupid, but was secretly so flattered
and now i'm just so curious
but too afraid to ask.

did you forget me?
i've never forgotten you.

In the book of Romans, the Apostle Paul says :
"Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God."

I do not know anything about God except that he was sure to not make us strong enough.
When people leave something, even if they don't see it, even if their memory forgets it so strongly that it's existence becomes less than it has ever been before, something in the world forgets how to grow.
Forgiveness is difficult.
Understanding is difficult.
But no one ever really has time for things that come easy.
Remember that we did not give the world it's color, we are only here to watch it change.


I am only here to show you that even in loss, even in darkness and ways and places that we may never understand, there is always something to see.
I wonder if everything in this world is connected in some way similar to that, and if we, in our most bare state of being, were once broken at the hip from the pieces of this world we hold most beautiful.

I know what the body sings, and what pushes blood inside people's arms and legs, how life and death is the only art that humanity is worthy of remembering. About the ending of things: is there any better way to die than lying on concrete, feeling your Life detach itself from your core and knowing nothing that you can hold on to is going to save you today, knowing that this is simply a conclusion of what was always there?
Remember: we never love anything enough to keep it alive,
and whether or not you want to believe it, you need more than love, because we are not built to withstand something so immense.
But in our lifetime, if we are lucky, we will find someone who makes you feel the way you do when you hear your Mother laughing from the living room.
How even the smallest ways to love things are greater than happy endings and how even in our greatest moments we are simply what we are.

she is self-destruction in a bottle. she
can make fire out of sweat,
feel thorns inside her bones, and
the importance of this is that, oh
baby, the river runs red. time to
kick the habit.

but she's a broken vessel, and she
still sees in black and white. so
her body is in overdrive.
fingers caress her ****** thighs
are you listening? because soon she's going
down. a dance with a devil.
her needle's clean, her tar is laced, and her
throat is sore-she has been drowning.

her parents never loved her. her
wrist became an answering machine. she
is cold- her fingers bruised.
traced the stretch marks on her hips she has never been
with. only this month did the
red turned to white.


and by the time she notices
she realizes it's too late and she
has already
made
a
line
on
the
mirror