wahid.* don't spread yourself between my thighs, and expect my breath to come in gasps because i forgot your name. sprawl on a bed and weep for nothing, i won't wipe your tears.

ith-nain. jilted lovers are the worst kind, don't tell me about the romance of a broken heart when you don't have one to break. don't spin beautiful tales with perfect grammar that follow a flaxen haired princess from a tower into the jaws of a dragon.

thalatha. a cocked hat, painted coal black, some unidentifiable baseball team inscribed on the the front with mercerized cotton.

arba'a. don't take your ears in my hands and close my mouth slowly, i want my words to leak all down your clothes and stain your skin and carve me into every pore, microscopically and geometrically. i want to **** your soul to a hell that doesn't exist, slice your anima into three point five inch wide pieces and strew them across my palm, counting your molecules of existence with glee, don't stop me.

there are earthquakes inside
the knuckles that held my hand,
and writhing rivers in the light
blue strands that dip into your
shoulder blades

i am not afraid to say that
i am afraid which may seem
like an oxymoron, but i
promise you it is not

i broke glass over your head
and cried into the shards,
only because i was trying to
make you see how beautiful
it is, how the glittering
light loves broken things

you always snipped the tags
off of tea bags and when i
asked why you said you
were saving for something
that you couldn't remember
but *******
it is important

chalk;
you remind me of letters not sent, languishing in drawers or cubby-holes with no intention of ever being read. glue driven into the cracks of your skin, i held you carefully and shh-murmured it'd be all right. that's okay that your arms aren't strong enough yet, i'll wait for you.

mist;
sometimes i'm afraid you'll simply evaporate. i could see right through you when we met, and nothing's changed. even your words are quiet, as if they had to be dragged out of your throat, but darling, there's nothing to wait for. i'd gather you up into a tiny bundle to care for, but i couldn't bear breaking you.

gloves;
yeah, so i saved the middle place for you, because that's where you belong. there are no edges for you, no edges for me. there are large lies, and small lies, but nothing that doesn't matter anymore. there is no balance, no goodbyes or hellos, there is a funny limbo with no doors, no numbers and i think we'll have to wait here for a while.

glitter;
it's funny how your title is glitter when you wouldn't be caught dead in or around it, but ******* do you remind me of it. there's sparkle in your complaining and a lightness in your proclamations of your plans to run away. there's an ocean between us but i've never known comfort like this.

my kitten;**
sure, there are barriers and chasms, but i'd bear more for you. there would be rainbows fastened in your hair and starkisses in your pupils, if i had a say in the world, but i don't and you weep on my shoulder. yes, there's a long way to go, but there would be marathons behind me before i'd stop. don't worry love, we'll get there.

summers bleeding and wilted sunflowers pour from wounds
we cant see the cake for the trees
but darling well make it if the angels rip hair from our heads
can you feel mist whipping through your sinal cavities
and wrapping your fingers in layers of burnt cotton
i could press contractions against your cheek
and stare your heartbeats into submission
but i wont darling can you see the ocean now
were awfully close so shut the door
i dont want to see family heirlooms in the bark
of trees too old to die

i wrote you paragraphs and notebooks
you could never read them because i
i cant burn christmas trees without shuddering
the metro is starting to grate on me get
out of here this is no place for you
we dont have a plot because we are
not characters and there is no conflict except in here

you had birds in your mouth and sunlight dripping from your eyelashes.
i promised i wouldn't speak if you wouldn't change faces twice an hour.
we made conversation under a tree and sleep-walked through your kitchen.
i couldn't stare for your poetry disguised as fingers, always moved your hands.

i opened your window and slid to the street, took a walk with the recycling.
my hands looked tired the next morning, and you wouldn't take no.
when the lights fell asleep, we ran for the boats and slipped into the water.
the moon smiled and pulled us apart, i never matched your shoes again.

|
teach me latin, so i can write dead words in a dead language and gift them to you in a skeleton leaf.

||
count my freckles and divide them by your lips.

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write lists of places and plan trips and pack our things, but never go. instead, build tents in the livingroom and sleep there for a week.

||||
dance with me when the frogs and crickets strike up a concert, dance me straight to the edge of the river.

|||||
polish stones in your pocket and hang them around my neck with a jute cord.

||||||
write books with every word misspelled and give them to me with most solemnity, a crooked knee and a bent head. i'll decipher them and paint the phrases in the clouds.

|||||||
paint the grass white and roll down hills until we're coated and stiff.

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hang mirrors on every wall and leave notes with scribbled words about the groceries, ps you're wonderful.