grief used to sound like it was a few sad days
like you wandered on the road, but knew where you were going

it took but a moment

Or it sounded that way.

But grief felt like nothing. or everything. It felt like a bubble encased the world, and continued on without you. There was no road, no wandering, no movement.

maybe just static.

and nothing else

but that’s not even true


because it was absolutely everything
a cacophony at the highest degree

but just with silence
and an empty seat

I used to be able to taste
your wonder

Between holding my bikini, cold beer, and hyper fixated on dives

I used to be able to taste your wonder
on the tip of my tongue

drunk on your smiles and perfected lies

I used to taste your wonder

but then
you stopped drinking
and I guess so did I

it’s that static sound
you know the one

when everything is quiet
but not quite

and the walls seem the same
but I can’t recall

whether it’s 2:36
or 11:41

right when I lost it all

I can’t seem to keep my socks on
you know
they move
wiggle down
and I have to
pick them up
why is it that’s tolerable for socks—
but for humans it’s not?

he said he wanted me in the worst way, and he really couldn't be more right
because he was willing to take an extra five seconds to make it seem like he cared
while I was craving connection
and we walked through some ways
to discover—— this way was the worst

please do not
leave me in cold sheets
where I can feel the rain pattering
bringing out the mourning in my bones
I do not want to hear it whisper across my palm
seeking its partner
no longer in reach

if I take anything
to my grave
whether it be shallow
or deep
let it be
that I was loved
the way I asked to be loved

crawl into the little tin with me
I’ll make space for you

actually I’m allergic to tin
that’s fine
I guess we’ll shudder in the freezing cold
together

I found my favourite jumpsuit
and i got a new shade of lipstick

doing my hair differently
in a way that makes me smile brighter

and I’ll entice a dance or two

who’ll let me be spun around
till I finally nail it

and I’ll buy them a drink — because they helped make me burn a little brighter

each day at a time

did you do it purposefully?

so that when women asked me if you actually took me on those first dates, I had to smile and say yes —

remembering the last week when we just sat in silence because if words were said we’d have to get off the phone.

or was that unintentional?

putting in your all and then breadcrumbing so I felt bad. And when you could see me withdrawing— you bring out extravagance.

So I couldn’t ask for a standard minimum.

But you wouldn’t do that, cause you’re the nice guy.

like she told me.

I can’t help but giggle
when you come across someone
who just doesn’t get you
and every other word
you both speak
gets lost in the cross wires
neither of your brains have the connection points to

she told me it’s just your brain
protecting itself

because it’s only good when you look back on it
but I can feel the way your fingers felt playing with my hair before tracing freckles in the sunshine

but tucked around the corner
like a child snickering about stealing the last chocolate bar

I can hear the whispers of arguments
of resentment and frustration

I know it’s protection

but it’s hard when perfection was replicated when there weren’t words or clothes to get in the way.

wrapped in sunshine and caressed by fantasies we both wanted to come true

I flipped through the pages
I sipped the good tea
I wandered the halls a bit more
just so they’ll see

I waited at the tables
I used the spoon
I gave them a good one

maybe then I’ll say goodbye

you were nothing you told me you’d be
but everything you showed me

and boy did I have my eyes closed

it’s the way a random song comes on
and I can feel the flicker of your hand
wrapping around my waist

Tucking a thumb into my jeans
an echo of a laugh
bouncing off the skin

leaving me
breathless with a button half undone
the wind taken away
with those echoes and grins

god I hate feeling again

it’s staring at the text
every day
but knowing they wouldn’t respond anyways

she isn't with me, and im going to do something about that now.

I miss the way your chest rose against my fingertips
Like an ocean beating across the shore.

The tide doesn’t come in, no more

it’s almost like the sea
knew
that I couldn’t tell
or even recall
the day you met me
was the same day
that all those dreams
were swept
to sea

I hate nights like now

when I can hear the sputter and puttering of the rain
as it goes about its way
and I am left
thinking back on many nights
where I was out immediately
against a heartbeat and grumble

feeling a safety I haven’t known since

I didn’t grasp

how painful reckless love would be

Until I looked up into the sky

simply— just wondering how I could call some pain beautiful

never wanting to feel it again

but sobbing for it anyways

as tears leach down onto pillows starved for attention

I have to reconcile the man who I fell in love with.

finding empty spaces when my fingers stretch, and grasp at nothing — like the day I tried to hold your hand when you let them take bites out of me.

I didn’t have thick enough skin for that, I had already been gnawed at. Stripped bare and bruised and battered.

but even then I still would’ve offered up my the morsels left if it meant you saw me. if you saw me.

But I have to reconcile that with the man who tries to hold it all.

You can’t carry someone when you won’t carry yourself. Sometimes grocery trips can’t be done in one.

(Much to your dismay, I know)

So I curl in, pretending I can hear you beside me

Until I want to scream, because I also hear the way you didn’t defend me.

and I’m left with pillows starved for attention and sleep deprivation.

I thought you were engaged
she told me

I laughed, no not really.

wow have you not talked since?

I laughed, no not really.

how are you doing?

I laughed.

no not really.

i no longer believe it is brave

to sit in blood soaked misery

just so i may go out standing

instead of reaching out a hand

and asking for help

to live

the knight
stands at the ready
Helmet down
sword up

ready to give it his all for those behind him

the white flag long gone
soaked with blood

back leg — staggering
roses dying by the side

and he stays there

never moving

the knight stands at the ready
never breaking

even when it’s only himself to save.

god I felt like an idiot
sitting looking at the different strands of carpet
her hair brushed back behind her ear
when she waited
to hear me ask
“did we even have anything in common?”
she shrugged

“your curiousity”

I laughed, rolling my eyes.

“and your need to be loved”

and god I felt like an idiot

I swear the whiskey tastes better
between little tears
the strum of a acoustic guitar
and those little ‘what happened’ moments

wished we talked more about wanting to be kissed

And how it is so very different when comparing to  wanting someone to kiss you.

“sorry hockey is life”

and i laughed, letting the dots display themselves like I hadn’t already made up my mind now. “Gotta do what you gotta do” I said.

Staring up into the final swipes of mascara. Wondering who would it benefit if I just took it off and put on the hoodie instead now? but I gotta do, what I gotta do. Just like him, apparently.

And I bought the beer. Mostly cause I pinky promised, remind me never to do that again.

And I sat there playing crib, enjoying the conversation, more the beer than anything. Laughing to myself as I caught the flicks from eyes to screen to Phillies to screen.

cause, you know…

“Hockey is life”.

so I sat pretty, sipping my beer. Thinking about all the amazing things life has to offer. Other than hockey.

it’s funny how some of the most cathartic moments can be the most mundane.

like hungover snuggles with the dog

Panicking about what this year will look like, did I even like as he laughed into my neck

and she just cuddled in closer
spreading kisses where she could reach, and reminders to breath a little slower

until I felt a little softer.

and realized it’s now a new year, with new mistakes, new memories, and new feelings

but the same little best friend, willing to snore tucked up beside me

so I’m never quite alone

I guess

I’ve made myself into the woman
I thought I would never have to be

maybe I’m a hypocrite
and that’s something I’ll have to work on.

but why in the hell did you hear me say ‘this is my favourite thing’

and you preceded to give me an itemized list of the reasons you didn’t think it was good enough

and couldn’t tell you were breaking pieces of me, as you continued on through the pages and pages

I wanted to show you a piece of me

it wasn’t for you to judge and find wanting.

but that review wasn’t really for me anyways

I might still love you
maybe the thought of me
and you

and the good moments

maybe that’s why it’s so hard

because I haven’t stopped loving all the little moments or the smell of you

i might still love you

cause nothing tastes like that first kiss
and the longer one after that

the trail of clothes, or hat tipped back

maybe, maybe i still do,

but i can’t.

don’t mind if I do
crawl into your lap

seeking the comfort of familiarity
and knowing where the coffee cups are

and the way your sheets feel curled against my legs
and my back against your chest

but
I know we’d mind

so don’t mind me

Its weird having to balance
the rage, the grief, the love, the loss
in the moments where there were helicopter rides and recycle that was never done

i felt like i was crazy? to ask for something so normal - so real. when you were gifting me with other amazing experiences.

till i heard you tell my father i spent that much to make you dinner, when i wasn’t the one that wanted that liquor.

dad told me

he’s always gonna run.

before you ran the first time.

then the second.

and finally, the third. when you fed me to the wolves because it was easier than facing them yourself.

and I didn’t have thick enough skin for that

something I’ve learnt

and maybe grieved along the way

is striving to be something

is so very different

from wanting to want to be something

that requires you to love

and god just to try

more than you fear

and I watched you close that door

over

and over

before I decided to finally walk away

he got me flowers

just because. or maybe not just because, but because I asked him to.

but he got me the ones I actually liked. and paid attention to the way I smiled.

he got me flowers. and I know he wouldn’t hesitate to set up a reminder,

to get me more

he asked me,

between a half cocked grin, and sip of whiskey —

‘Do you make every man fall in love with you?’

and that negroni —

really never tasted sweeter, against my tongue

I am the definition of a god’s love

I may come bearing gifts
Showering you in adoration and devotion
wrapped in the most pleasurable ways
caring for you in ways you have never known
caressing your soul in the most intimate ways

only to leave when you least expect it

left begging at an alter
I’ve vacated and no longer visit

when i told him about you,

about how safe you made me. smiling while i expressed all the ways you made me realize life was worth all the time and relationships, squeals, and terror, messy open mouth kisses, and doing the thing scared!

i was reminded that you were, and always will be, exactly what i needed- right then. and i just hope,

i was exactly what you needed too.

to someone

my worst will be their best, and my best will be their 'meh'

it just means that a few of those someone's

were not meant for me

i was putting up the little fragmented bats
really just letting them explode everywhere

when i remembered you asked if you could be here
and i tried
i did not to cry
and when the first tear fell
was

when i realized that not every source of love in my life came from you
that the flowers L brought me
and C allowing me to replay that song
J giving me space to ramble and
S telling me how i needed to wax the car
was
when i realized i would really be okay

because you were a perfect chapter of my life, but you were not meant to be in the rest of mine

and that is okay

i think what really broke me

was the way you said

it is a little funny to me
how little words jotted down in moments of feeling have become touchstones to my soul.

where i can trace the etches of love, lust, and loss with you.

but not even just with you, with myself, and apparently, you the reader.

it is a little funny to me.

how my touchstones, have also, in turn— become yours.

where you could see i couldn't sleep. maybe couldn't breathe. where soul aches and loss weighs, and memories become whispers against my skin.

and i could almost feel your laughter skate across my shoulder, or fingers against my cheek.

so i guess i'll continue
jotting down little moments, hoping a few more come my way

funny how poems sometimes slowly become mere diary entries
like it is normal for you to peek into my soul, from whatever corner or slice of internet you appear to be on.
the way connection can happen without sound or eyes on one another.
but you know me anyways.

you know the way i love art, of colour and how green seems to have a hold on me, but you may not know how terrified i am of being truly seen. you also know my partner loved to make me laugh, and held me like the stars were nothing compared to my smile, but maybe not the way he sounded explaining the differences between certain engines.

you know the way i have loved, and lost, but maybe not that some of it was my doing.

and as sips of wine becomes sips of bottles i am left to ponder such loss and love. maybe even lust.

i just wish i could spend most days

discussing the use of colour. or the way humans can capture such emotion in things that do not breathe, but steal my breath anyways.

i wish i could spend most days

looking at the abyss, the way he holds her. the way she holds him, his hands curled up to her head ready to press her in further, just as much for protection as it is for his own need.

i wish i could spend most days

telling you that Rodin's kiss really doesn't showcase love the way Paolo would have done everything all over again, to be with her. But that doesn't change the way he wishes she didn't meet the same end with him.

to lust, to need is one thing. to lunge for a kiss, aching, like it might be stolen from you.

but to love. my god to love, to cling, to cherish— is quite another. To protect, to honour, to know pride means nothing if it means i get to hold you. to be anything you need me to be.

i wish i could spend most days

discussing the way he so clearly loved her. and how she loved him.

I’m stuck

Between hating the love stories where they didn’t fit but “love overcame it anyways”

because why did we play with the pieces that couldn’t fit together and pretend it didn’t matter

avoiding conversations like they were distant future things, intangible, and uncondensable

and as I sit here, rooting through the leftovers of my processing
I know my grief simply overshadows the joy for a moment
Holding space for the lost piece of me, I am happy, and honoured you get to hold.

but grieving her nonetheless.

So I’m stuck

pretending like I won’t always, on some level, be trying to put the pieces together

cause  “love overcame it anyways”

I didn’t realize how much I changed who I was

until my head hit my pillow and the clock kept moving
while I stayed still
or a metaphorical semblance of it anyways

trying to sleep like I hadn’t trained myself
like a dog with a bone
to text you goodnight, or call when you got off

I wasn’t aware how much you soaked into the fibre of my being. Which is why before midnight is so ******* hard.

because all I want to do

is ask how your day was. like a dog with a bone, trying not to beg for more

I know some day
a little Lizzy may ask me
“what was your first love like mum?”

and I’ll have to muster up the way to tell her

He was perfect.
because he made me fall in love with life, with love.
With Scotch, and the way the smoke could be found twirling in his perfectly green eyes.
he taught me all the ways I should be loved, and to love in return.
the ways I should be respected, and worshiped.
he kept my heart safe, and gave me freedom, gave me joy like I’d never known before.

And all while choking back the emotion. I’d also have to tell her

but he also gave me sorrow
like I’d never known before.
because for all of his perfection, he was a fish, and I a bird.

we couldn’t reside in each others worlds for too long, cause darling we didn’t fit.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

“Do you miss him?”

Only every time I smell a campfire, taste a scotch, or see the sea.