i have a way of losing things:
time, minds, love.

present my roots with sacrifice and i'll grow into the sacrilegious
i only like amber nectars and ***** water, so remember
i'll blame you for the winters that come and rainless summers but
i can be quelled by promise and wanton by touch
and i'm a god and i'm a sun so conditions pay off to the appeased and maybe
doors closed, i'll praise you too
this is rugged and lame and you'll never get anywhere on this path but
rocky and unsure is the way you chose to live anyway so what's another
addition to Your toxic? drown your liver, smother your lungs, let your demons eat their way out of you
from the inside out, claw at your lips,
and watch them infect the ones your love- ****
this life is short and everybody's already huffing and puffing on vapes and
entitlement; give people something to really burn their houses down with.
maybe a waste. maybe i'll rot.

purge my distal digits with the lick of your flame,
the grieve of your bite
a dash of your poison.
you're good at that.

hopefully then,
after the spate runs clear,
i'll stop itching to trace skin i've never even been allowed to
whisper my touch across.

and so here you stand again,
extending your half-empty
glass and expecting me to fill you up
with the half that i have left of me.
void of complaints,
pressed into the wrong space
(though the right piece)
you knew me once to be the girl that would carry you
on her shoulders in earnest,
a believer in geocentricity
while you investigated other cores.

i guess i'm still a little **** & misshapen.
i guess i signed up to always be partially theirs, somewhere-
a beacon to those behind me,
advantageous and drawn to the vulnerability i bleed,
the healing i do.
"can we start again?
i just appreciate the energy that you
bring back."

i.

Promises lay broken at our feet- like the bottles of verity that you mix with your orange juice. We're resting in pieces; and these, our shattered dreams, lay like the dejected children of the sun- too far away to glimmer bright enough for our admiration. We were a star, baby, and I ruined it. I tore my calloused digits right into the core of your humanity. My eyes screamed of perjury while yours, open and pure, were infallible. I should not be allowed to cry rivulets of tears as I write this, and one might assume that it is because I am scared of this truth that fate lay heavy on my breast- but, no. At once I believed we were one, and I wish you would not ache from this torture as I do, dare I part my lips.

ii.

When I get on my knees at night, hands folded in prayer, I ask the Lord to shed some of his forever-shining light – the light of the sun, the essence of the universe (or so some say) down upon my weary shoulders. You never once asked why every morning started with a shot of liquor but had you, I would have exhaled the truth like a balloon with a pinprick of a hole punctured into its (my) flimsy skin. Your eyes, the same eyes I have worshiped for years cut into me with a truth that is poisoning in its potency (almost like the bottle of whiskey that has become my best friend). You think you’ve hidden the truth from me behind a veil, whispered lies escaping your lips- but we were once one, I know you better than I know the drum that beats in my chest. I look at you, at us, and think that even a dying star is beautiful.

i clip my wings and preen to silk;
i guess you want me to go.

stop sending your son to do Atlas' job.

or else.

i don't know what to do about this bright-eyed boy
with perfect teeth and banter,
i just know that he wants me to quiet the echoes of past lovers and
i'm so scared i'll only become another.

i don't know what to do about this bright-eyed boy
with perfect teeth and banter,
i just know he swore to me he wouldn't be another echo of my past lovers and
promises don't mean much to anyone anymore.

lessons you left:
"to be wanted"
and
"to be had"

(beep)
do you feel alone on nights like tonight, too?

tengo un corazón para dar,
promesas que he hecho a usted que tengo que mantener,
y una voluntad de siempre,
pero a ti no te importa,
y estoy cansado.

You are
every fallen piece of skin
and strand of hair you
left behind, along with
the perfume that
I can't seem to wash
from my pillow.

I spilled your love into my
sink and tried to wash it with
formaldehyde,
I bartered your words away to
the 90% of the grey matter
I don't use,
I taught myself to pretend
every emotion in your eyes
were just a mirror of mine-
but, despite all of this,
I can never coax my
memories to reject you.

This body was never your temple.
It was never your kingdom.
It was your carpet,
which you burned with each
steely gaze and flaming word,
and which you trampled upon after
every storm.

You were every broken stone I
painted bone-white
after you hurled them into the heavens
only to watch them fall
again-
onto me.

Carving your name into my ribs,
you taught me to
sigh you into existence
each post-mortem night,
and I haven't found a room yet
where I can breathe without
inhaling you in
again.

While others were swapping gossip we were sharing hearts broken by those we had the (mis)fortune of calling 'family'.

I showed you how to hide your bruises and you taught me how to throw a right hook and, God, by no means were we anything, but you were everything and on nights when my father used me as a substitute for a punching bag you were there to hold me and you promised as I sobbed into your chest that you'd be my savior but even the strongest fall and your skin is too soft.

While others were swapping notes, we were sharing tears pooled at the toes of those whom we had the (mis)adventure of calling 'lovers'.

I showed you how to keep the pain of infidelity out of your eyes and you taught me how to set my problems on fire. Hell, by no means did I think I could be anything but you, you could do everything and I envied each gentle brush stroke you kissed to your world-canvas until all I began to see was green. On nights when I drew up the courage to try to be more than what I was, you would encourage me by guiding my hand and my heart, until I learned that my faith in you was dangerous as affection deepened from leaves into roots, and even though you were my savior my armor was too ******* strong to be broken again and I fell from your branches and crawled away slowly, even with broken limbs.

While others were worrying about their futures we were wondering if we even had a future, our romantic predisposition (un)fortunately labeling us to a life that was far from easy.

Somewhere my emotions went from protective to romantic and seeing you with him left me feeling as though I'd eaten an imploding star. Our friendship faltered as you tried so desperately to be someone you weren't and I struggled to come to terms with the fact that I was slowly, inevitably losing the only family I had left and all because I'd made the stupid ******* mistake of falling in love with my best friend. God. We weren't star crossed lovers - we were two black holes who had mistaken the other for a ******* star and realized too late that we were only destined to destroy, not love.

While others were worrying about how to use their tongues to knot cherry stems, we were worrying about how to use our teeth to win our battles, our gallant response to solitude (un)successfully molding us into warriors.

Somewhere my leaving pried at the sleep-dust on your lashes until you realized that this wasn't a dream- I was really gone and I knew seeing me with her left you feeling as though you'd danced with a cobra and forgotten your flute, or how to tap your feet to the ground accordingly. Our friendship died so quickly, and I'd begun to start seeing every color so vibrantly that emerald was only nostalgic and dull, though you struggled to come to terms with the fact that you didn't understand why I'd decided to follow the path of a kamikaze in my new life's cycle- surely that's what it must feel like, away from you? But 'best friend' is a category that isn't reserved from me, because nobody ever abashed me for watching your every move too deeply ( you danced when you walked, hoping that nobody would notice that extra sway in your hips ) or for the light in your eyes when you smiled ( hell, you were the sun, the stars, the moon, and all of their supernovas when you smiled at me ), and maybe I could say that I didn't know any better, but when my palms would ache for a little lick of your spine, I knew. I knew too ******* late that I'd better move galaxies away just to avoid being ****** further into you.

While others celebrated their long awaited ascent to graduation we too busy contemplating the almost (un)berable distance between stars.

Maybe it was because I'd mended your broken bones, helped hide the bruises - taught you the meaning of the word home that it hurt so badly. To pretend was to lie and I have always been honest and, God, I swear your eyes are made from lightning because the way you look at me has my skin tingling as though it'd been licked by fire and, Jesus, I have spent countless nights wondering what it would be like to have a taste of your lips. So when I showed up with a bottle of whiskey as my apology I knew I had doomed us because our past had proven that we lingered in darker tendencies and I'm not sure what burned more, the whiskey or your lips but God I would gladly drown myself in both. With your arms around my neck and my hands on your waist I knew that we weren't going to last because you deserved better than a carcass of a girl (even if your fingertips made me feel more alive than I have been in years). I was already dead inside but God, God - I would do anything to live for you.

I called you about wall portals because
you're the only voice I ever want to hear,
but especially when my senses are heightened and
I feel at one with the world.

I could talk to your voicemail for hours and never get tired,
because I know it will eventually reach you..

.. and I remind you all the time because
I don't want you to forget.

It isn't just about love,
it's about reminding you that,
because I love you,
I'm never going anywhere,
ever.

with bones on fire and eyes like haze
i'll remember you, Giza in my stomach's pit and
your calligraphy present beneath blacklight,
forever- i've husked to be your Tut's tomb.
you'll remember how you taunted cumulus clouds to the edge of the earth
and, on your three-hundred, sixty-fifth day of sunlight,
never forget to miss how it cleansed your throat when you inahled.
i'll always remember the places i marked you mine with torment,
you'll only ever remember when you go to the river and it's low.
nostalgia will be the bookkeeper for every dew-drop and sink-trip,
the perfect imprints of my thumbs on your chrome; i hope you
live a life of love,
haunted by every path and groove and maze of the dunes in your dreams, and
know i'll be buckling someone else's
boots for our hike through fog and rain
and it took me forever to stop wishing it was
you.

if i got to wake up every morning
beside you.

damnation* is loving the sun while you
are the moon,
refusing to touch Sleep because you'd
rather kiss her cousin,
knowing your words will eventually become
a tourniquet,
and filling your heart up
to the brim with
formaldehyde..

but believe me when i say;
i'd be ****** for you.

i know not from experience
but from watching it happen

i've got hollow bones and glass skin
so i know you can see just how much i ache
and pressed between that marrow rests
ink-dipped butterflies and sun-scorched jellies
and we know you can see how they struggle through every tide and hurricane
all for you.
i'm all cracks and fissures, baby,
all smoke-filled lungs and liquor-drowned liver
every depth of dark ocean and sky and mind
and i just need you to let me be your light;
i'll ready the soldiers apollo gave me, each sun in my smile ready to march on for you until
i have none left.
this isn't a burden, but a blessing.

you got in the way of my light like
the moon does the sun

but this doesn't feel temporary
anymore

i'm missing a home
and it took me too long to realize that foundations aren't lovers or whiskey or blame
but support beams are made of hearts and i manage to take a sledge to every one that i've gotten
windows are gazes that look on me and love and care but i seem to go through life with eyes closed and brows furrowed
i'm missing a home that was once littered with flowers and herbs and safe
crisp lawns and gardens full of welcome and solid ground
who's walls were cemented together with ache and pain but healing and growth
who's patience capped off on high ceilings until i blew the roof in with dynamite expectations and explosive temperament
it once had scars but an eviction notice later & a few months time &, though they still echo under touch if you're searching with gentle fingertips, they've been painted over
and are over and it was a beautiful home then and a beautiful home now and
well- i moved around a lot as a child, i guess i just don't know what it's like to expect to keep a home of my own, but
**** do i know the pain of missing one.

gorge all of your
sorrows at a table for
one.

I would take him back in the same span of time that my heartbeats adjust to mirror the flutter of hum-wings whenever I catch a glimpse of his ghost in my soul.

It cries for him while scrying through its windows and only he could settle it into perfect pieces, but he presses his hands against the jumbled mess that he left behind and pretends he doesn't remember how it is to feel me back into place.

I never thought that I would be this lost without another person, and sometimes I could forget that something should be looking for me, but then he speaks and his voice makes me feel found and his gaze reminds me that I belong in a place that he expelled me from in October; when leaves soaked in the passion he dropped and painted themselves with his fire, when clouds tried to warn me with grey soldiers, and when the Eiffel tower turned into shoddy log cabins with rust and tin signs reading 'Motel' instead of 'Paradise'.

He never loved the smell of my nail polish, so he never kissed my fingers- yet, I heard rumor that his lips trailed along all ten of her lithe digits and breathed her in the same way he would learn to inhale smoke next year in January, when I grew wise enough not to be his vice and she grew bored of him trying to mold her into one.

I laughed when she broke his heart and cried because I am not sure if mine will ever be healed again.

In April, when my resolve to break myself of him the same way one would break a brittle bone if pressed between harsh jaws too tight, he called.
I knew I shouldn't answer, but Cupid had yet to retrieve his anchor from my lips and when I could hold strong no longer he greeted me with a nostalgic-feeling smile in his voice and a shackle for my mind, embedded with a cursive 'K.S.'.

It's been half-a-year since that October and his passion is still in the leaves and his masons haven't glanced at 'paradise'- my nails are still black and he doesn't love the smell yet- I am going to Purchase and he is packing for Atlanta with a fever as though he would depart tomorrow, and I can't help but wonder if he thinks of me when he folds his clothes into each box and how much I was willing to travel behind his shadow if he just glanced over his shoulder a few times a day.

for you,
suddenly the idea of how different we are sunk in too quick.
you're the moon and i'm the sun and we're
playing a game of tag around a roadblock that
moves around us, so there is no escaping-
this is my life and this is yours,
but i'd spend every night ignoring it
in the palm of your hand.
i'm ready to take endless drives
during light-less skies, cancer
burning between our lips,
tension melted away as you race the speedometer,
your hand tapping my knee to the off-beat of a
song i want you to love as much as
i do, because you're too scared
to hold my hand-
i would, i would,
please let me.

.. you say we can't.
and i want to climb back but
i already fell and
there are no ladders between
space and gravity.

i'll love you for all eternity, it seems,
carry these memories with me wherever i go,
this love,
but i don't have to drown from it anymore,
burn and ash and rise again, again-

and maybe i'll be my own sun.
because the mornings remain, still.

so the gods shook their heads
and said
"play with fire if you want to."

ares,
wake your son.
tell him the battle will go away if he keeps his eyes
open long enough.
tell him that his mind is his greatest
comrade and enemy,
and that he does not need to know
when which is which just yet; but to
trust himself enough to
live with the consequence of either.

ares,
wake your son.
tell him to find his mother within him,
and not look to you and your plights as a
reflection.
he was born from love and war,
love and war,
and more time was spent in the womb of
the prior; that wars have been
waged for the word,
and resolved by the same.

ares,
wake your son.
remind him that, while the
sun does not revolve around him,
it depends on what he determines his
sun to be.
may he have many
and learn to appreciate them equally.
i am too old to keep making stars.
the sky is full.

ares,
wake your son.
press your thumb to his forehead,
wrap your arm around his shoulder,
he needs to know that he is cared for,
though i cannot understand;
who has he met that has told him otherwise?
touch him only if he asks,
but read his eyes- he is asking.

ares,
wake your son.
the son of war has battled.
tear him from the lip of vulcan,
remind him of the mistakes of troy,
teach him what these men did not have
that he does.
if he does not,
remind him that while he is your seed,
he is the nephew of athena.
promise him he can learn-
he can.

ares,
wake your son.
the son of love is loved.
wake him to remind him he is alive-
poseidon likes to play games,
and he seems to have gotten to his mind.
he has not yet drowned,
and he never will.
****** will bring him up with winds,
it is up to him to fall or ride them.

ares,
wake your son.
he has grieved too long
over battles he has not yet fought
and may never have to.

ares,
wake your son.

you're breathing in, your chest expanding
and i can see the hymn on the tremble of your lips
your eyes are searching mine in a frenzy and i know you saw cinnamon turn into hurricanes
so you're quiet again and i'm relieved and you're protected and i'm free
yesterday you'd wonder if i could feel the butterflies in my stomach-
well, honey, next week when i'm in tennessee i'll wonder if you can still feel the acid burning in your throat
we were never smart about this- i flip and you garble
you sip and i swallow
we weren't made for tomorrow
and i'll be battling morals while my lips press to jack's, watching you watch me
and wondering if it will be evan next or ezra or- oh, who gives a ****, i won't remember their names
it's sick, maybe, but the greatest lesson of barrel and sky is
this won't hurt if you numb it

Learn to touch me without your hands.

Your body is beautiful, but when can I
learn your soul?

I'm ready to be what makes your eyes light up
like the bible, like religion, like
what brings you to your knees..

.. Look, I just want to be your God.

Read over my curves like the Quran,
let your lips echo and repeat my name away from my skin,
breathe thanks under your breath for every time I
lift you up.

Your burdens are mine to shoulder, my
lov-

no. Say it first.

Let lightning strike you down if you don't mean it,
so I pray you do.

isn't it unfair?

how someone can earn control of the stars in your eyes
and turn them into comets
or supernovas--

huh,
i don't believe in religion, but,
i relented to
you, my God.

i'll travel to hell and back
if it means keeping a heaven astride you.

with ether and volcanic dust coating my lungs
i swear i'll always smile each time i cough.

There are galaxies in my throat
all named after you.

green-eyes, dark-hair, sun-smile
i want to protect & learn & build with you.

for your time i'll offer you stars & honeydew
& arms to warm you nightly.

If I could rest every one of his burdens on my shoulders
I'd do it.
They're scarred and battered and broken
( just like him ),
but I am sure he would still call them beautiful-
or, I hope he does, at least,
so I can call him out on his hypocrisy.

Let it be known;
I breathe, not to be fixed by you,
but to find a way to help
put you back together
and I am not scared of your
wolves nor
your roar.

I'll be patiently awaiting this moment,
with my amour shed and my hammer steady,
and I swear I'll do it-
- gladly.

there's a peace rising
against the horizon and
it bathes the ground in gold-
and i'm breathing in deep
beside you and the air is
lavender-kissed.

play with your teeth on the edge of the fence and
bite down too hard,
smash them in, then smile like
'baby, it doesn't hurt'.

play double dutch with my heart strings.
tie them into a rope then double-
knot it around my throat,
i'll admire your craftsmanship (you're an artist, you know).

to dribble your heart on the pavement wasn't my intention and
****, i have good aim but i was never good at
the follow through.
my hands get unsteady when i have to commit.

twine your fingers together and then press,
press, press down until you're numb or broken or
always, you're always that way.
what's the difference? blame me.

i hurt you and i cry about it.
i didn't mean it.
it's tomorrow. we're young.
we forget.

i warned you what this was before it
even began- or maybe i was a
day too late because i love you.
bells ring. there's clarity. i'm bad.

either way, i'm sorry, Bruce Wayne.
we got too serious,
why so serious? distance and destiny
made me into your ******* Joker.

i'm scared i'll never be better than these love poems

i'm pretty sure this is it;
every one of my dreams has you in it.

I keep looking for perfect
in everything that isn't you.

tell me about the callouses on your hands & how i can heal them on my heart.
i want the remnants of them to be found if anyone dared to dust there.
maybe i should stop thinking about you so much;
you come with an auditory label that screams "danger here" & you
sound your alarm every time i feel close,
but i have selective hearing so you're only ever alarming yourself-
i know you're good.
we don't fight for the things we don't love,
& you were birthed from love & war so i know the battles
you pick are worth it,
even the ones you pick against yourself.
this poem began as a declaration that I love you but
you already know that, so let this serve as a reminder instead.
you are fire & i love to be burned,
you are stars & i love to wonder,
you are love & war & you & perfect
& perfect & perfect & perfect & perfect
& you,
so let this serve as a reminder.

i'm just angry that you
made me bitter about love

other people are not home.

ship sailed round trip through my fingertips
brittle bones beige on paper too pristine for me
too touched, too unsteady
trampled into common ground
i’ll be fine.

I am not sorry for wanting you;
I am sorry for being quiet about it.

love isn't "blind"
it's
flawed