once you forget how my lips taste

maybe then you'll regret making me second place

The colors of late September
talking and falling again
announcing each other like
gulls for bread
remind me that I've listened

yet every day is black and black
the mask's unsettling sweat builds and
underneaths a frowning girl
settling into it

yes darling, I see the blue
I see the coins stored under my lips
haven't paid off and
you've painted nothing to hide the holes
i'd ask for your hand in this and squint
but you, you must not have heard it

and here i've been
as cooperative as ants /
as sad as fate
with hands as red as the ibis
falling tired and certainly
tired of falling

and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it

And I find comfort
At the bottom of a swimming pool

Im not in water but i am drowning

My own skin suffocating me

I can't breath

I tread for hours

I am tired of fighting

Just let me breath

You ran your hands through your hair
Just as you do every day.
Closed your eyes for a moment
Took one last inhale
Before you shed your certainty.

You stood before me,
Vulnerable.
Your voice shaking,
The absence of confidence
Tangible.
I sat there in a daze,
Twirling my hair around a pencil
Then untwirling
And twirling it again.
And as your soul extended out to mine
I felt an internal warmth
A flutter through my core
Its tickles radiating through my face.

And as I turned to you
You were already there
Your eyes met mine
In a moment of silence
A moment of solitude
A smile painted along
Your beautiful face

As we simply stopped
And stared,
And started.

he says were fine
so why do i feel like were not
my head is spinning
my stomach is in a knot
i have a fear of losing him
a craving for bruising me
should i tell him
or should i wait and see
i pick up a pen
and begin to stain
the patterns on my skin
relieve me of the pain
i long to feel
scars take too long to heal
il continue with my pen
in hopes that my mind
will mend