last time I saw you,
I sunk into film
until my eyes were deep enough
to see that off-white show flickering
in the distance.
over and over again,
the leading male’s heroine
with red lips and sharp shoulders
stuck the needle in the bend of her arm
until her windows were worth a quarter each
and her bubble gum
was infected.
yes,
your cinematography is gripping:
I can almost see what she doesn’t want you to know
I can almost see her mother’s first chance
to become her father’s last chance
at owning a pick-up truck
with blankets in the back
and two dimes and a nickel
worth of whatever you are now.
lady,
this placebo effect
has gone too far.
you are not the main attraction
to this drive-in,
your name should only be in lights
when you want it to be.

if you need to talk,
call the scrap yard.
ask for the girl
who sifts through debris
and finds spare parts
that can try to replace
your failing ones.

I will answer
to whistling teapots
and accumulated newspapers
if you don’t have time to call;
drinking gasoline so I don’t fall asleep,
and oil for stability.

if the things I find
cannot help,
I will relinquish my function
so I don’t fail you too—
the sum of my parts
could never make a whole
as lovely as yours, anyway.

Kiss me on the forehead, it comforts
the restless nomad in me.
I am one who lives nowhere,
neither in you nor this world.
I exist within myself;
                             the beauty of myself.

I knew this wouldn’t be different and yet
I chose to know without wanting to
                                                     know I know,
and that type of logic is the exact
logic,
that disappoints me day
                                        after day.

You walk away from me
                                          slowly,
and I beg of you to run.
I am in this for the long haul
but I can’t sprint for ****,
you know that much to be true.

I’ve crossed miles upon miles
of deserts for  
                    you,
Deserts as barren as my heart
without
            you.
Don't you see, how much
you feature in me?

© Sia Jane

"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.

the butterflies in my stomach
still haven’t died as the seasons changed
from the first time I realized
we were home
until now.
I can still feel
the fluttering below my ribcage;
I can see the frost on
my tongue.
I never meant to ****
the nature in you by
filling your veins with
what I breathe out,
I never meant to personify
the coldness of winter
like this