were we
sunbleached concrete
or were we
flakes under eyes
deep in
the spring?

you might have been
a bug bite
or a whisper of
tap water on
my dirt stained
leather sandals

(no arch support
to be found
under my feet
this summer)

watch slowly as
the whitewashed
brick wall starts
to crumble and fall

were we not so
colorful that
even sunbleached concrete
found a rainbow under
our triple refined
driftwood bench?

(driftwood
that's a good
metaphor try
to remember it.)

there's just something
about the air hovering
directly above the cleanest
pavement you've ever seen
something dry and
slightly hopeless

something that looks
like every season
took its toll on
the sidewalk
and then left to
just left of the right.

when was the last time
you threw out the dress
and wore the
garment bag instead?

(i'll tell you here and now
it's not the most
comfortable idea but
it is an idea.)

we're all so highly
pigmented that
we give each other
headaches
we give
ourselves
headaches sometimes
don't we?

the whole world is so
loud with color
but i have discovered a
cure so extraordinary
it has never been recommended
before or since this moment.

falling asleep
on sunbleached concrete
is sure to wash the color
from where it pours
out the folds of your
knees and elbows and
guaranteed to clean your
skin of all things pertaining
to any season besides
your papery old age.

you said something
on the phone
one of those long
calls where i do more
listening than
talking

you said something
very
very
important
and i'm writing it
down in a poem
so that i never
ever
forget it.

you told me
often strong women
don't say everything
they should

which i appreciate
hearing from you
because every single
one of your words

is carefully
instinctively
measured
by something
greater than your
own judgement

and then you said
something that
i doubt i'll ever
forget.

you said
that we must

separate

the offense
from the person.

(to deal with
a hurt and not
the human that
caused it.)

you said
that sometimes we can't

forgive

by ourselves without
His help.

and when i hung up
i knew for the first
time ever that
everything
was in His hands and
i did not need to
worry

every move being made
in faith that there is
a plan
greater than my
mistakes.

i can
separate
my thoughts
into pieces
and add pinches
of peace.

*(it's amazing what a
long talk with
mrs. b can do for
a person's faith
and nerves
knowing that her
nerves are made of
steel and a higher power.)

"i feel like
you keep
yelling at me
for loving you."

11:45 p.m.
monday
23rd of may
2016

it hit me like
a ton of bricks
or the thousands
of memories i've been
repressing for years
coming back

where my
problems
have twisted
their roots deep

hear me
out here

"do you still
love me?"
i would
ask
every day
every
single
day

and every
single
day
she said
"of course
i still love you"
and always wondered
why i never got it

i did get it
i was just
double
checking
i just had
to make sure.

hear me
out here

it is not
that i don't
believe
i'm loved

it's that
i don't want
to be loved
in the first place.

let's be real
when you love
you lose
it's all fun and games
but in the end
you will lose

someday your
dog will die
people will
eventually leave
and you'll move on
from even the
buildings you
carved your heart into

love is not
a fair game
love is a
casino
where it's all
rigged
so you think you've
hit the jackpot
but really you're
that much poorer.

i will gladly
go through
life alone to
never hurt or be hurt

i'm fine
with being
single
i'm fine
knowing i'll
die young

i'm fine
saving all
my feelings
never gambling
on another's
compensation

because i never
want to be loved
if it means i've
gambled too much.

"then take
some
*******
shoes."

gucci, prada
chanel, vuitton

walmart, target
overstock stores

there's tar
stuck to the bottoms
of my feet
and the blister burns
are forming

shaking
the bridge is not
shaking
not shaking

don't look down
don't look down
look down
look down
you have to
look down

murky green
whitecaps

"how fast
can you walk?"

how fast
can i
push you
over the edge?

and of course
the asphalt's fresh
so fresh in fact
the trucks are still rumbling by

why would you walk
a railroad bridge
unless you wanted
to jump
or you wanted to
wait as you felt every
last vibration before
death?

i hate
everything
everyone
and that may sound
ridiculous but
hating
is easier than
honesty

tar
get the
tar off
me
toes sticking
pulling against
the splintered
metal

i should have taken
some
*******
shoes.

right now
i'm imagining
the feeling of sweat
and hairspray
and suspecting that the
church will be hot

the knees of friends
and family all
sticking to the edges of
the blue padded pews

i can practically
feel my clammy hands
and the robe hanging
from my shoulders

rosin on my fingers
i expect that i will
need rosin
and nail polish
to keep me
glued together

i hope
i won't cry
i kind of know
i won't cry
but i bought waterproof
mascara just in case

and i won't be able
to feel my toes because
they'll be numb
in my finest heels

all i want is to be
out of here
but it's still only
in my mind.

and as i'm sitting in bed
contemplating

(you could call it
dwelling or
obsessing but i will
call it good
old-fashioned
contemplation)

i'm thinking about
my graduation
and how i don't even
really care

about a kind of
paltry milestone
inside this year
compared

to the feeling of
the last day of class
that moment on stage
dancing in sneakers
my finest poems
late nights
mornings too early
yearbooks
and every weekend
spent together

i'll miss
everything i had
and dread all
that i don't

but i sure can't wait
to get out

i just have to get
past graduation day.

We've been
Through a lot
You and me
Best friends for
How long?
Over ten years
And that's at
Eighteen.

Last week
You told me
That if you had
All the money
In the world
And could give me
Anything
You would buy me two corgis
Because that's what
I deserved.

But if I
Could give you
Anything

I would give you back
Every tear
You ever
Considered crying
Whether or not
It actually fell
All sealed up in a
Case of fancy glass
Bottles
For you to toast with
At your pleasure.

And I would find every
Single
****
Person
Who ever
Hurt you
And make them
Feel pain
Kick them
Directly through the
Stratosphere and leave
Them to die
Choking
From a lack of
Oxygen
On the moondust
Of who you
Would have been
Without their hands
Around your neck.

I would
Wind the clock
Backwards
Fast forward through
Your entire
Missed
Childhood
And find some kind
Of cosmic compensation
Celestial retribution
For every lost
Second
Every tainted
Home movie that
Still plays
On the screen
Of your eyelids
At night.

Speaking of night
I would hand you
Every sleepless
Hour
You ever lived through
Refund the three a.m.'s
You gambled
And lost to
Anxiety
Smooth away
The tiredness
Soaked into
Your very
Existence.

And I would hurl
Every
Last
*******
Lie
You ever believed
About yourself
Down into the
Hellfire and brimstone
Where it came from.

Because all you ever
Deserved
Was peace of mind.

i've been
showering on
sunday mornings
at ten thirty

(for my whole
life i've always
showered on
saturday nights)

but it kind of
helps to dim this
morose veil of
rainy silence

(it doesn't
actually
but i convince
myself that it does)

and i'm kind of
hoping that
sunday showers will
bring monday flowers

but i've seen a
saturday storm or two
and i know what a
friday flood looks like

tuesday torrents aren't so bad
after all and a thursday
thunderstorm is about the
same as a wednesday watered-down

but a sunday shower?
i've never seen a
monday flower
come from a hurricane.