the stars whirled and rose up to meet her. created galaxies for her. constellations holding hostage the clouds.
all her life mapped out among oceans and the whales carry horns on their noses to write her name in the sand.

but she is dangerously human.

born into a world that feels. with trees that breathe. wild oak and birch filled with bees and knotted leaves. a forest imagined. left to become.

the world is one huge heart. spilling over full of blood. the worst parts are black and wretched. a transplant must be imminent.

if only I could pretend its spring. the sun shines and I feel nothing.  barely. breathing but it's the pills. they keep me but not up or down. they just keep me. sometimes I smile with you. your eyes as bright as dead stars.
a lot of who I was pools up until I can't stop. wishing and aching. feeling and burning. the world stops for no one. not the trees or the big blue ocean. forget the waves, I'm here.

you carry the world, don't you? can't i lift you up just this once?

the crumbs don't lead back and they don't lead away. every breath and step, heavy as the hardest rain.
i feel you as close as thunder. mountains whisper about where ive been and what ive done. echoing out above outstretched wings and winter sun.
"this is who you are, who you were and who you can never be."
lost and found in the dirt. these leaves can't hide anything.
of all the stars ive named,
there's one i can't forget.  
always hanging here to watch the days fall, slow and overbearing.

i named you, regret. the ultimate consequence. there is no art in letting go. there is no light in your sky.

the tomb i left
the war we lost
feeling everything miles away
wind cutting through every word
bind my feet but in dreams
i still follow.

what you hide and what you can't. the girl in the dark, the girl who calls out but hears nothing.

wringing her hands, consumed in the future-
what may come to pass or won't at all.

there is a piece lost, and i am looking in at a stranger. who has these eyes, who stole my lips and tongue?

i ran from you until my legs burst open.
i made it. but i can't run from this
this feeling of twenty nine hundred hands pinning me down
one for every shame, one for every guilt, one for every word i spoke in anger.
the blame carried across every plane of right and wrong.

oh what the world could've been without me.

i remember a smile that wasn't mine
the time and consequence borrowed,
what i can never return.

our lives, a series of events. it is as if two small apples had fallen from the same tree.
and there they lie, their guts spilled out onto the lawn. birds making holes to take what is left
before winter comes and goes again.

and what is,
what has been and what could be
mean nothing.


i held your hand like it was my last day on earth. but you'd never have known. walking through the forest,
the trails winding and branches breaking around us, i felt content for a fraction of a second.
the sun's beams like a halo above you. every freckle on your shoulder knowing it's place, it's purpose.
and here was i, standing lowly in your presence.
all of the times i had tripped over my own two feet
or my words, every time i had been late for the train,
the time i ruined your sweaters in the wash, or
the many hours i'd spent writing books i never finished
when i could have spent the time with you,

the light painted over me, and your eyes saw something clean.



hurrying along on the street, rain falling into the spaces between your legs
and rainboots.
once we made it inside, i realized
i had held the umbrella only a half an inch too far from you and your ear was cold and wet.
but you never said a word.



everyone says i cannot freeze you there like that in my mind. that the bad must outweigh the good.
that you must be a demon who was sent disguised as clouds and lovely things. but if you were then it stuck.
and whoever sent you did a **** good job.
everyone says that i need to go back to the day i first saw you and stop there
and just
remember
the times before i knew you.
but your words are too strong to forget and every time i walk by the flower stand on the street
i see your favorite colors and i see the crown that you made and
placed in your hair the day that we were both so sure we wanted this.
this, together.


my brain splits you up into all of these pieces and i can't gather
the ones that have been spread by the summer's breeze, or the ocean's waves
or the ones carried away on the wings of night's fireflies.
if i could only capture them all
like a still life photograph stuck in a jar
maybe i could come unstuck from you
and piece you together in an entirely new fashion,
painting you like the devil that you are
(or must be).


even just this morning i made a point to be on time for the train
because i knew that you would be so proud.
and like some unspoken prayer or a letter written but never sent
i wished so long and hopelessly that you could know.
but the day is over now and you won't
you won't leave the note on my door that i've longed to read
you won't call. you won't ask a friend how i've been.
so i've bought these brushes and pens and paints and ink
to try so hard to draw what i could never see

as i stand here looking at the last picture i have left of you
i hear these words so clear in my head
"take a picture before i paint over her. she is beautiful, she was everything."

and i wish that i could but i can't. because you're not here and my hands are too broken
to fix the old camera i used to photograph you standing in the rosebush by the lake,
thorns in your knees and red petals in your hair.