Never take shelter in another human being—
we are weak foundations
no comfort within
because we all break, splinter, crumble
at some point,
concerned not where our rubble falls
and not who it destroys
but if it falls safely

****** all the boys
in the army

win
war is over

still a lesbian

one day someone will love me for all the right reasons
and love finally won’t taste like the last sip of this *****,
but it will burn so

The stars lean down to kiss you and I lie awake and miss you. Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere. The silence isn't so bad until I look at my hands and feel sad. 'Cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly.

I'd like to find these
silver linings
through all the rust
but it just reminds me
( of )
your metal heart
my steel rib cage
how i licked my fingertips
to flip through your pages
how everyday
busts me in s t a g e s
do I stay this way
or rearrange it
i'm a deranged fish
swimming in cages
that i build for myself
& choking on phrases
that mean nothing to you
so why waste time
trying to say them
i'm trying to save this
( idea )
for myself
instead of swimming in circles
for everyone else
it's outrageous

1.

Each of us like you
has died once,
has passed through drift of wood-leaves,
cracked and bent
and tortured and unbent
in the winter-frost,
the burnt into gold points,
lighted afresh,
crisp amber, scales of gold-leaf,
gold turned and re-welded
in the sun;

each of us like you
has died once,
each of us has crossed an old wood-path
and found the winter-leaves
so golden in the sun-fire
that even the live wood-flowers
were dark.

2.

Not the gold on the temple-front
where you stand
is as gold as this,
not the gold that fastens your sandals,
nor thee gold reft
through your chiselled locks,
is as gold as this last year's leaf,
not all the gold hammered and wrought
and beaten
on your lover's face.
brow and bare breast
is as golden as this:

each of us like you
has died once,
each of us like you
stands apart, like you
fit to be worshipped.

The way he looks at me,
Flirtatious and full of life,
He doesn't yet know me,
Nor my fabulous gay life.

He is not gay- that I can tell,
But the way he looks at me,
I’m under his spell.

The sparkle in his eyes,
The secrecy of his smiles,
Butterflies in me churn,
Ones which fly for miles.

We have never spoken,
But I can't start now,
Because he wouldn't accept me,
Not then, not now.

He is so kind,
Filled with courage,
Rugby ball in his hand,
In the gym he takes his stand,
Well, what can I say,
That is my boy.