food, ***, and cigarettes
i swam through the grease and  your smile cut me to the
bone
and you handed me a light
is that right?
we never talked before
and now we never will again.

this feels like you, to me.
barefoot on the street with wind and nothing else in your hair
and a smile
on your face
trying to hold a phone and unwrap a starburst at the same time
you feel so much like you
you look almost happy
and so
i am.

dark bedrooms where people lay their coats during a holiday party
i sat on the bed
away from all of the noise;
even at 8, dinner parties were far from my thing

i dont remember much
the taste of my mother's mixed drinks on his breath and
the warmth of his hand on my thigh
what else?
what else?

my hands, tangled in your hair,
brush back the years of insecurities so i can finally
see your eyes.

i noticed you breathe easier when it's just you and me
where no one else can see you or get to you or
hurt you

you were a small and broken thing,
curled up on my floor with a
painted smile
that always melts when you face the warmth
of someone who actually loves you.

i often think about your head in my lap,
gesturing at the ceiling
laughs on the edges of both of our mouths
content for a brief moment just to be

i often think about you coming in to my room at night
mouth twisted with hurt or with anger or with both
eating cookies and talking **** about people and doing all i can until
i bring that smile back

i will never understand what you saw in me
but
i know for sure you saw all the things i didn't want you to
and loved me for it anyway.

thank you.

kiss me in between the thighs, coyote with the bedroom eyes
three years have come and gone and i can still hear the stars
with all your sighs
your fingers woven in with mine, a tapestry too perfect to
complete and so
we pull away, and several times,
to watch the strings begin
to fray
and then again we patch them up
we bring them to, we sew it shut
the work of art that's ours alone to witness and to call our
own
the things i never wanted or the things i wanted just too much that
slip
finally from my mouth to yours, and slip from touch to touch
my neck is warm where teeth have been
god
when can i be with you again?
my thoughts don't coalesce anymore the pattern's disappeared
but your face i see, your mouth i taste, and in my mind its your voice i hear

so please
just
kiss me in between the thighs, coyote with the bedroom eyes
three years have come and gone but i can still hear stars
in all your sighs.

he's not you.
part of me knows that all of me knows that
but still
sometimes i think about it.
when you're gone, i think about it
but
i always come to the same conclusion:
he's not you.

the warmth in my face hasn't left in
over an hour.
i wonder -
     is this safe ?