He asked me why
I never looked him in the eyes
And I looked at the ceiling
and said i didn't know
He once asked me
what color his eyes were
And for the life of me
I wanted to forget
that his eyes were the color
of the purest blue ocean
just before a storm and scattered
with crystal shards like sea shells
Because the second I looked
up at him
The air was stolen
right out of my chest cavity
His eyes engulfed my soul and drowned it out
until I forgot where I was
His eyes could melt fire and freeze ice but he doesn't have
a destructive bone in his body
His eyes are the sky
right before dawn
a blue so electric
it sends shivers down my spine
So wasted with wonder
and dappled with specks of sarcasm
I've been told drowning
Is the most tragic way to die
Though maybe it's where you drown that makes it a tragedy
because I think
drowning in his eyes
would be the most
beautiful death

I've mastered the art of sad smiles
It seems natural to me now
The slight curve of the lip corners
That never reaches the eyes
Those misty windows hold the truth
It's an oxymoronic action
Of conflicting thoughts
Between how I feel
And the depressing little attempt
To convince others I'm alright
Hoping to be asked what's wrong
But knowing I couldn't explain it
Even if I were

Lighting a candle before my bedside,
I slip a small piece of my past
underneath the brass holder
to catch the waxy overflow.

A pink envelope addressed to
(my love)
encases the torn and tattered teardrop-filled
piece of stationery paper.

Your words mush together with the
slight scent of beeswax and sage
and my mind wanders off to an unknown place

3 am:
Awaking to the smell of
an almost-smoke
burning my nostrils

burning my curtains
Is this what it was like
loving me?

Loving you was an ongoing river
each rush getting away from me
the second I felt it
while the rocks, the biggest burdens,
stay in place,
unmoved, unsolved

The light of the candle flickers
as I watch the fiery masterpiece
flow over the room

I lit the candle before my bedside.
I knew the consequences,
repercussions
of loving you.

Her eyes are like a bowl of cereal:
swirled with sweetness, soft but cold.
She lays in the center of a cobblestone intersection,
as tires bounce like knuckles off of teeth.
And ruby ribbons run from her mouth,
heading down the street that breathes south.
The sky above her stretches like notes from a guitar,
spitting acid rain tunes that'll turn into the pitter patter of a musical monsoon,
washing her body away from my sight and yours,
cleansed from our memories and the city floors.

It seems as if
the only time
you pay me
any mind
is when a part
of your body
is inside mine

I exist as a mirror
Wild lights have glazed over your skin
My whispers are tarnished
Our bodies a shield
Against the coming chills of a brittle wind

I linger with a breeze-like touch,
It comes out hoarse and swollen.
Thoughts  uttered with a breath of regret
Or a sigh of relief.

Your face turns foreign, a mesh of dark warmth
A light without the sun.
We’re all a wounded red
on the inside.