the piano you played for me
their keys light like the sun
in your eyes gently playing me
a song we wrote between shared cups
of tea, picked flowers in the field
shoved into a pocket always big enough to fit
both of our hands.

I miss my freedom within your absence,
when I stretched between the memories.
Now I'm stuck between the moments,
my eyes tired from believing
your arms were safe for me to sleep in.

I know the lingerie is meant to be taken off, but
my nakedness makes my eyes dart quick and
count every hair on my skin.
picking scabs turns into scars that
I have yet to tell you about.
without permission, I close my eyes
as you love me in the dark and
I wonder if you’re counting too.

dear lover,

          I promise I will stop bringing up his name
over late-night calls, 
cups of bitter coffee,
and my lonely bed.
          I will give you my love
like it is your first glass of water,
your dry, thirsty eyes allow me
to believe in second chances.
          I will never trap you,
pin you down like butterflies in the frame,
for my broken wings know the feeling
of watching your love say goodbye
behind a piece of glass.
          I promise we will make love
without an expiration date tattooed
on our inner thighs.
          I will hold you, despite wondering
if this is the last time your hands
will touch mine.
          I promise I will wear your heart on my sleeve
like a new coat,
putting the scratchy, hand-me-down fabric 
back in the closet.
          I’m sorry if he still makes me cry.
his name still sounds like guns falling
onto the oak tree roots outside of your window.
          I will grow from this.
I’m still waiting for those shots to stop ringing in my ears
when you tell me you love me.
I was just dragged out of a cold war,
my blood is now too warm to clean up
the battlefield he has made of me.
dear lover,
          I promise one day my wounds will heal,
that the only scars you will need to love
are my stretch marks.
          I’m glad you understand
that empty promises are Band-Aids over bones,
they will never heal me.
thank you for holding me as I bleed and cry,
and thank you for letting me speak of him
one last time.
          sincerely,
                    -me

I am no longer your light,
the solace to your empty cosmic prison.
I refuse to accept the pain you weigh on my chest.
I am a formidable fortress, welcoming none
of your darkness.

I am a universe, expanding

with each breath I take.
soon, I will be too far from you to see
the dark matter plaguing your infinite cavity.

your pain can no longer affect
my growth into the unknown,
for I am no longer afraid of the dark.

my bed sits, empty as my pocket
bearing nothing more than your old promises
collecting dust, waiting to be heard again
by someone willing to listen.
it breaks me down, every time
I feel you near me
haunting my empty bed
with your sharp teeth.
my body knows your words
can still cut me at my throat
so I wait
patiently, for your blade
to appear beside me
without your hand to hold it.

In the echoes of our past, I hear the whispers of pain, etched in the silent space between us. Desperately wanting to be heard, but never speaking.

Conversations, woven with threads of betrayal, pierce through the fabric of our trust, binding us to a truth we both deny.

"It was just a kiss," you said, words dripping with regret, but your lips carried the weight of secrets buried beneath deceit.

Months stretched into years, each moment a battleground, where truth surrendered to silence, and lies built walls around us. You put me up into the air, told me I was safe, then let me fall to my knees and scream.

How could you be so impulsive, reckless with the fragments of my heart, reaching out to her in moments of doubt, while I crumbled beneath the weight of your betrayal?

You saw my pain, felt the tremors of my shattered trust, yet chose the path of deception, leading us further into darkness.

A partnership fractured by deceit, where love withers in the shadow of your unspoken truths, leaving me stranded in a sea of confusion and abandonment.

Still, I hope to blossom like the cherry blossoms outside our window, yearning for the sunlight that passes more dimly than the uncertainty I have of you.

I am tormented by the treachery of knowing the truth and never escaping the past. I cannot bear the burden of your lies, nor should I be the keeper of secrets that poison the life of our love.

I must love myself enough to walk away, to leave behind the wreckage of a future tainted by betrayal, and find solace in the quiet embrace of my own truth.

******* though.

we run through life's tunnel--
terrified,
walls covered in mirrors,
our reflections always on display
for the passersby.

a straight path,
reminding us of our imperfect
reflections,
until we reach the end--
glass hitting us right in the face.

that's all we see at the end--
ourselves,
and all the people we wished we could be,
replacing our reflection.

in reflections, what we see
is never what we want to be.

I crease inwards like origami
inside this humid summer night
skin of sugar and sweat
feeling inevitable, waiting

I’m not ready to say goodbye
if only you could trace my smile
like an architect, uncover the splintered shape of the city we met in
entangled in my tendons and bones

I’d let you watch me destroy it all
I’d let you hold the end of me
as I hold the beginning

my tears flood the bathroom floor—
an out of order sign
hangs on the stall door.

my feet kick it open—
the sign falling.
my heart will stay open,
despite this drowning.

I turn on the light—
invite people in.
why not have a heart
that is filled to its’ brim?

despite my reckless, messy,
selfish, and hurt,
each light lingers on,
every door opens through the dirt.

my heart will stay open—
like a shift that never ends,
or a city that never sleeps,
embracing new trends.

and from you, I’ve learned
that closing your heart
with each break and bend
will one day snap you apart

your letters, written to coax an empty heart.
an illusion written with dying lead,
begging to fade away.
it is still beautiful, marching in formation
on the loose leaf paper towards the end.
your signature,
which stands to be the only thing left true.
I keep it,
a reminder how lies are beautiful
in your handwriting.

my life line moves across
your chest
your love line inches towards
my lower back
reading your palms
under the thin covers
summer air blows into our hair
permeating the smell
of grass and warm flowers

we embrace
the unknowable future crushed
between our palms.