Nothing
looks familiar
anymore and
I want to go home
but nowhere
feels like
it anymore.

When bluffs
get boring
I trade them
for fields.

When two
lakes aren’t enough
I leave for
a forest of them.

Maybe it’s true
that home isn’t
a place but
a feeling.

Maybe
home
is me.

But
what if
home isn’t
a feeling,
but a person.

Maybe
home
is You.

For now
I’ll have to
carry all that
makes a home
in my bones
until I find
someone I can
unpack into

how many times do I have to say
I miss you until it becomes poetry

how many since it mattered

how do I tell you I haven't let
anyone touch me since you
because as long as your hands
remain the last
you still exist here somehow
how do I tell you that doesn't even
begin to describe it
how do I tell you all the places you
touched me still sing
like a phantom limb

how many days did it take
for your mother to ask about me
if I'm ever coming back again
what happened to me
what happened to us
what did you tell her
and how bad did it hurt to say aloud

how do I tell you even the simplest
things are crippling without you
how breathing is wasteful
when there's no other lips to taste it
how badly my body has pined for
yours again

how cruel must you have been
to make me want like a child
to lead me senseless
to the brink of everything
I ever wanted
to lead me giggling and trembling
touching your face
and to leave me here alone
without a warning
heaven was not heaven when I
entered it alone
all this love I have to give
is shot to hell if I can't give it to you

so how many times
do I have to say I miss you
until it becomes poetry?
because I'll do it
I'll do it and do it until it matters
to you

I'm in my backyard
spinning wildly
around and around and around
shouting lyrics out to the sky.

I am free again
the grass pressed against my back
every flower grows above me
and I am alright with growing smaller
shrinking myself into the leaves
and I am flying.

I'm in my backyard
spinning wildly
shouting lyrics to our song
and I'm starting to stumble over the words
and my own feet
but at least I'm beginning to forget who you were
and I feel alright.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But words will never hurt me."
That's the one saying that never makes him feel like dirt you see.
He gets pushed and pulled
Into dark hallways in and out of school
And gets called a "fool"
They seem to like to call him a "tool"
Because he's mentally disabled
Till this day he hates the label
He stables his skin,
For wrist cutting is the only way to Bend
  
For his friend,
She doesn't blend in
For they throw stickers stones
Knowing she is skin in bones
"She" wasn't born this way
And till this day she eats and eats
She stands over the toilet seat on her Knees
They call her "The Bulimic Freak"
85 pounds, "she is weak"

They both say life never seemed so bleak
They get made fun of just because their unique,
At night there parents kiss them on the cheeks
And they tell them,
Sticks and stones may your break bones,
But words will never "hurt you"

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.