"You are my friend.
Please do me a favor.
Give Bobby this phone number.
Don't tell him I told you to.
Maybe he'll call before Dr. Mendrokis and his wife get home.
The children are sleeping in their beds.
I don't really care for being alone.
Tell Bobby to call me on the Doctor's phone."

Jill tries to study but it's quiet tonight.
The telephone rings to her delight.
It must be Bobby.

"Hello"

There is a silence, but she can tell someone is on the line.

"Bobby?"

Nobody answers so she hangs up the phone.
Jill Johnson doesn't like
To be alone.

The clock ticks on.
She hears a racket in the kitchen.
It's the ice-maker in the freezer.
She takes a fudgesicle out of the pack,
As she wonders if Bobby will try to call back.

The phone rings.
Jill says,"Hello, Bobby? What do you know?"

"Have you checked the children?"

Jill hangs up the phone.

At the weather, Jill fixes a drink.
They won't notice a little missing brandy, she thinks.
That call was scary.
His voice was dark.
Maybe it was Bobby
Who was just pretending.
Maybe she doesn't like him much, anyway.
He's kind of a ****.

The phone rings again.

"Have you checked the children?"

"This isn't funny, Bobby. Don't call back, anymore."

"Why haven't you checked the children?"

Jill slams down the receiver in a panic.
She dials the police on the rotary as fast as she can.
She's terrified and alone.

The policeman tells her,
If the man calls back,
The call will be traced
If she keeps him on the line.

She sits on the stool by the stairs.
She silently waits.
She's scared.

The phone rings.

"H-Hello..."

"It's me."

"I know."

"Why haven't you checked the children?"

"You, You can see me?"

"Yes."

"I turned the lights down.
I''ll turn them back up if you'd like."

"No."

"You really scared me before,
If that's what you wanted.
Is that what you wanted?"

"No."

"What did you want?"

"Your blood...all over me."

Jill hangs up the the phone,
It rings again.
She answers the phone and screams,
"Leave me alone!"

The policeman then says,
"Your life is in danger.
Soon, police will be there.
Get out of the house...
The call is coming from upstairs!"

in love.
inlove.

maybe we called it being in love
because "in" was a prefix for not
and the space between the words
was the void you created when you left

I miss the time we spent existing in the same place and I miss you, I miss your soul and the way you said my name and the way you held your coffee cup and the way you rubbed aloe vera lotion on my face.

I miss the hairs I found on my bed after you left. I miss the water bottle you forgot here that I forgot on the metro and I miss the voicemail you sent me, I deleted it believing that nothing is as good as it was the first time, I think I may have been wrong.

I miss remembering the first time we kissed, I have forgotten it. I forgot the last day I spent sober. I miss the way your legs felt on mine under the sheets and I miss the way you held my hand in the car.

I never said I loved you and neither did you and I'm not sure I do and I'm not sure I ever did but you were one hell of a friend, you have been, you've been a blessing on my life, your presence is the build up of all the good karma I've received and then some and then quite a bit more.

You're learning, you're thinking, you're organizing your thoughts and I should be too. I've been looking at blank walls again.

It happens that quick.

I’ve tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
“you can’t wear red lipstick”
made me believe
I never wanted to in the first place.

for every time instead
I’ve stained my lips with cherries
learning how to tie the stems
so I can slip forget-me-knots
to the back of your throat—
do you feel my restriction now?

the razors that fly off my tongue
perk thorns on my skin,
another down stroke on my wrist
will teach me that
you were right,
shyness is a virtue.

no need to speak,
go spend one hundred dollars
and some percent for tax
to cover up,
even though I’m sure your mother told you
that cotton stains.

so make it black.
get your hair stuck
in the zipper of that sundress
and pray as you pull it out
that it will lose its pigmentation
in the process
mark a down stroke
for killing two flowers
for one bouquet.

hold it
close your eyes and throw it back,
I know we shouldn’t be wearing white anyway
but tradition can take a lot out of you
like what you really think—
don’t say **** in public.

instead drag your first impressions
all the way to the altar
and dress in your Sunday best
a flower on your lapel
clear on your lips
a stroke for the neat decline
of the son

I tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
my image
was my fault.

"I'm content"
"Something's gonna happen, i don't know what it is, i feel it"
-------------------------------

three weeks later i'm sitting, wallowing in self pity,
mourning over a love that has gone sour
making cuts after cuts in my skin,
hoping you'll somehow feel it and hear my cry for help.

i carved the word "perfect" into my skin on November 17-18, 2012
hoping that despite everything that happened that day
i'd still feel perfect
or hoping that seeing it every day,
i'd start believing i'm
Pretty even when drowning in tears with swollen
Eyes that are filled with stars, stars that i often fail to see and that
Regardless of these scars that are etched into my skin, i am
Full of life and
Energy that is immortelle and
Contagious even though i always feel as if i can't go on and
Things are too much.

i guess what i'm trying to say is, i should've carved my name into your heart,
Hoping you'll
Always remember that
Someone like myself is hard to find so therefore
I'm yours always and you are mine and i'll
Never leave nor would i hurt you intentionally, and
Although it feels like we're drifting, i still want you here.

but the ice which we stood on which was our love
has broken,
and is melting and you're on one piece
and i'm on another and if we reach for each other,
we'll drown in the ocean of our love.
and i  don't know what i'm saying anymore,
because my eyes are getting cloudy and so is my mind
and all i can think of is you and if you'd cross that ocean for me.
(h.s)