Breaking clocks
That's what it feels like
Even when I'm with you,
I wish it were still seven am so I could curl under blankets and feel comforted and weak
I like flying kites
I like picking wildflowers in varying shades of mustard hues
I like resting on the pavement of a church parking lot
I like being with you
But my body feels old and tired
Even wintry kisses and hot chocolate runs
Fill me with dread
I'm afraid of the changing seasons,
Sacred of old cafes giving up and becoming shimmery, glistening electric complexes
I'm afraid of Virginia,
Afraid of everything that isn't the great Tetons
Or old faithful
I'm afraid of being alone
Being without you
Being with you
Being anywhere but hiding on my bathroom floor
As the thunder shakes the ground I rest on,
I wish I were running freely under open skies
I don't know how to do anything but rest

I am made of moon shine,
Blue eyes, and mountain crests.
There is a warm, thick fog
Cleaner than stained glass,
The brilliance of an omniscient night,
An advocate for a better life.

I used to end all my prose in exclamations.

When I was a kid,
I would clench my fists
And tighten my jaw so hard,
the veins in my neck would buldge And sore by morning.
If I could close my eyes tight enough,
I could pretend I didn't hear the screams from down the hallway.

I don't want to end my prose in exclamations.
I want sprinkles of rain on my nose,
Not hail.
I want to lay in a field of grass and never once check my watch
And while were making requests,
I want to breathe in pine and lilacs,
I want to recall but not remember the bruises on my back.

You were mine, mine, mine.
I found you with hope zipping about,
Your eyes had energy,
A soar flare before departure.

I gave you the stars and hoped you knew
How to use them.

It has been eighteen months since your
Wandering eyes found change,
And your hands met electricity.

When I left you,
Your stars had disappeared.
You looked at the world with cold and bitter eyes.
Still, the moon eclipsed the sun,
And I was the only one.

If anyone is asking,
I remember being buried under bushes of leaves,
Arms outstretched,
Reaching for streams of dappled light.
I remember the glimpse of moon in his galactic eyes -

But we bend toward the light that heals us.
So when I felt the pull of a greater tide,
I gasped aloud and shifted sides,
meristems beaming for softer light.

Marry me.
I've longed for you so long,
My fingertips swell
As they reach for something
Untouchable.
Marry me.
I'm shedding dreams
Like the leaves
On my ginseng tree.
Marry me.
As the quiet months pass by,
My eyes droop;
I fall fast asleep.
Marry me.

"Its a long story."
A story that is only his and mine
Unspoken under covers,
Hiding under the lid
Of an empty bottles of pills.

"He didn't mean to",
A mantra I don't trust
But remind myself
When my eyes are closed.
He is mine, and I am his.
He tells me I am important to him,
That I mean something
So when he tells me,
Voice trembling over the phone,
"It didn't happen,"
I stay on the line.