god it’s like walking through the ashes of my home
finding all the pieces I no longer can pretend work for me
or even fit
collecting ashes even though they slip through my fingers
over and over

so how do you cope?
you know…
figuring out what ashes I want to smear across my skin
who she is
and who she’ll be

i just know what she won’t be
as i sift through ashes of me

forget me nots
lay littered across my room
just as punctuation
to all I’ve done
and yet to do
cause forget me nots
won’t let me forget you

those nights
where you just know
like an addict
you’re itching
stretching out fingertips
heart aching
hoping maybe for a stimulant
or just a numb
whatever’s closest
but my hands stay against my sides
tucked
because
you know the itch is far more satisfying
than anything in arms reach

A constant
constantly in motion
I thought meant constant speed
constant weight
constant thought
but that you treat
as if it’s at rest

without any external factors
and we know that’s not possible
But more than that
I don’t want rest
not that kind

so I spend my days
learning that a constant
May be constantly in motion
but varying speed
Changing weight
adding friction and moments

that bring complexity
a little joy
and hell a lot a pain

but god do I refuse for me to be stuck
in a perfect swing
of constant
predictability & rest

It is in the way
they held me
mended the tears with different patches
that they all collected
mismatched
and adored

I love the quilt that is me
and those that have loved me
in moments like these

if I could stay
existing
in that 15 minutes of a scalding hot shower
ice cold companion
with nothing but candlelight
and
wow that silence

Oh twist my arm!
you know I can call?
Well just a button or two
you raise the bets
stakes are high
**** pinch and release
She’ll twist and writhe!
you know I’ll call
your bluff…
Tapping
you out?
your call
I’m out OKAY
well i knew that
anyway