I don't need you
But you help me
And I help you
And I like having you around

But I don't need you
And then sometimes I don't want you

Can you be okay with that?

Can you just exist with me?

Does it have to be so connected all the time?

Why do I so badly never ever want to hurt your feelings?
Why do I think you're so fragile?

I still think you're lying,
And that you did cry
Silently on my back when I pushed you away from my thighs.

Why can't I believe you?
That you're not as fragile as that?

I just think you're quivering
And that without me you'd suffer
Anxiety attacks.

Is that selfish?
Is that narcissistic of me?
To think that you need me the way your face convinces me you do?

The way you cling to my hands
Though you've stopped doing that so much
I suppose.

You leave me alone now all the time,
And that's nice.

I never got enough of you
I always wanted more
When I think of you
A softness comes over me
I've never known before

Maybe it's been long enough
I can admit what I didn't like so much

Sometimes you were too much the
social justice warrior for my tastes
But only 1% of the time
The rest of the time we were aligned

Will I ever know a magic like
The magic it was to know you?

It feels utterly impossible I could meet
Another woman who filled me in so many ways
As you did

For 1, I don't see how she would ever be as beautiful as you
This future she
And the history
We built
It wasn't such a beautiful history was it?
Of hurting the other and taking years in the middle to heal
Then avoiding each other
And keeping the cards close
And never saying exactly what we felt
And the values and ideals,
The laughter,
The chemistry,
The freedom,
The emotional maturity,

Ugh, here I am making myself cry over you again

How did I love you so?
It overwhelms me again

I think part of the overwhelm
Is that I still can barely wrap my head around the fact that you wanted me too,
loved me too.

Sometimes I think you could have been better to me
Could have considered me more
The way I considered you
I think you could have been kinder
Softer
Less selfish
More honest with yourself and in turn with me

but that's often how the poly people I've met tend to be
That's often how I was

Countless lovers I know felt the same about me
I could have been kinder,
softer, more considerate,

And I would be now,
If I had a lover to dole out those kinds of things on,

I wonder if you think of me still?

So I look on your instagram,
You haven't posted in a while,
You didn't post for Christmas, or New Years.

I wonder if you are still with that guy?
Is he still jealous and stifling?
Christ, I hope not.

I wonder if I'll text you. And I decide that I will.

Because I love you so very much.

No mirror to keep me company
No reflection to satisfy my lonliness
A dying narcissism
A quiet relief
A tearful goodbye
A quickly deteriorating something of something of myself

Self image vacancy
Mirrorless existence
Me only inside of myself
No me projected into my own brain

Just me, with me, however I am, having no idea how I am.
Age old vanity plane that could reveal all the illness in my head, covered in king sized, pure white, Egyptian cotton sheets

Oh how the body pinchers have fallen

I forgot that I’m a lover
I mean I guess I always knew
But I forgot I’m the kind of lover
Who’ll kiss and kiss and kiss until we’re blue
The kind who’ll miss and miss and miss the sensation of a you
Who
I enjoy

What will I do in the absence of ***
Will I paint more
Sing more
Spend more time with my friends and the birds
Will I dance more
Maybe in the rain
Will I lean on my friends
Get to know my pen
Lift my arms when I feel afraid
Maybe I'll feel way less afraid
Actually
Will I cry more or less?
Will I get closer to my family
Will my energy still flow
I won't be a frozen bird in a cage of my body
I'll be jell-o and slime in my body
My energy will still flow
But it will all be mine
Once
Years ago
I didn't have *** for a month
I saw a friend of mine and he said
It suited me
To not have ***
Maybe I'll be even more beautiful
and for who?
Not to attract someone new
But just a result
Beautiful like a wolf when she leaps
I don't think this takes away my polyamory
At all
I will still have partners
Big and small
Short and tall
I just won't need to hear them moan
**** their *****
Press my fingers gently against their *******
Feel their wetness
Or their hardness
I will just know them in other ways
And maybe not feel shame
That *** scares me
That ****** intimacy
Is something I'm not ready for
Maybe I'll write more
About what I want
What I crave
Will I crave?
I'm sure I'll crave just the same
I'll have more energy for the healing
I will still be ****
No doubt, that will never leave me
Will the world present itself to me again as it once did
In crevices
In textures
In moods and soundscapes
I think no
It's going to be new
That's the point of this part of my life
Is that it's all new
There's no movie in my mind
Of what this is all like
What this will look like
Everyday I feel the sensation more
That this is just what life is for
That life is for the living
Sensing the world as best I can
Realizing nothing matters so very much
As connecting
Breathing
Feeling
Loving
Breathing
Leaving
Growing
Tou­ching leaves
Climbing trees
Making art
Interpreting life
Sweet privilege
a privilege to make the choice
to heed my body who has been telling me what I need
No one will praise my waist but me
Maybe I will finally understand my waist
The space where I bend
Where my body processes food
Nutrients
The space where my floating ribs float
The space where my ovaries bloat
The space where my solar plexus knows what she knows
It's a relief actually
To let loose my ***** of all foreign energy
Knowing that no new foreign energy is coming here
I never got the time
My ***** never got the time to be alone
The time a ***** needs from birth to around late adolescents
Save for some childhood musings
To be alone
She was invaded early

Now she will finally get the space she needs.
As I let this resonate in my body
This sexlessness in my future
For the first time I feel the power I hold
Or rather the power that holds me.

I'm realizing that I'm always right
About what is right for me
Or rather, I'm realizing that I always know
My body always knows
She tells me what is right and what is wrong
I must learn her language
To know earlier, better, more clearly what to do next

Judgement is the end of truth

Today in LA
It’s humid and gray
And the pigeons are flying low

The air feels like wind
From a laundromat

My  LavenderPlum princess  
Badder than 2007 Brittney
My velvet bustier
My leather string around the waist
My lips like honey  
My doe in the wood
My renaissance
My ****** milkmaid
My baby
Holy fear of goddess escaping from my lips
Dripping at your command
Soaking for your hips
My silly girl
My flame
My charmed and robust queen
My harlot my champion
My starlet my sapien

The more I let my future be
The more she looks like me

My key fumbled with the lock
But you found me in that pause

Invited me to immerse my eye line
To indulge my gaze
To throw my glowing eyes into
The lavender sky
The silhouettes of the trees
The rooftops stretching out to Beverly

You waited until I was giddy
And craving your shoulder beneath my chin
To steal away into the night
Leaving welcome sweat on my skin

The length of your arm tracing the length of mine
And your perfume at my wrists

I get aligned and my life begins to feel smaller
More manageable
It looks smaller
And I feel better
I wonder if I’m disappointing my dad
By living so regulated
And at ease
With no ego pushing me to be famous
At every turn
It makes me melancholy
To think he would be disappointed
By my lack of stardom
What a pressure I’ve held all these years
To rise and shine
Big enough to him
To go and claim the light
The stage
The fame
He believes is mine
It makes me melancholy
And frustrated too
And nauseous
And confused
I’ve applied to teach high school art
And I’m really excited about it actually
Which
If I let it and I let those familiar voices
Which scream that I MUST BE FAMOUS
If I let them talk to me
The idea of
Living near good friends
Eating good food
With my good boyfriend
Making a good album that I’m proud of
Playing in a good band
Having good days
And teaching art
To make a good paycheck
With good benefits
All of this good makes me queasy
But it feels so good
The simple life
The slow life I’m allowing
Feels so good
Is it okay?
Is it okay that I don’t crave to be great?
The illusions fades
And I love my good mornings with my cat
In the sunshine with my hat and my tea
I remember the phrase that came to me
When I left LA
I don’t need everyone to hear my voice
But I want my voice to land on those who can hear me
That feels good and true
There’s some phrase I never remember
That maybe describes my conflict
Diminishing returns
The law of diminishing returns I think is what I’m thinking of
But anyway it’s a thing where you’ve put in so much work for so long
That you feel like it’s not worth it to give it up
You have to stick with it
Because otherwise your years and hard work pounding against an immovable wall will be wasted  
But it’s a fallacy
Because the years are already wasted
And you just don’t want to admit the waste
So you continue to waste
This morning I was thinking
So what if I stay here 3 years
And save up and
Then I move to Italy and buy one of those 30k villas and renovate it
That’s fine with me
And in that time get to meet my new long lost sister
See my dad healthy again
Enjoy more seasons and my mom as she moves into her new seasons
I wasted 8 years on a dream that hurt
Why not spend 3 years enjoying a quieter dream that comes easy to me
A life that is MINE
Not a life that needs to be validated by millions
Just so I feel worthy of existing
I am resolved
My small good life is good enough for me and it feels
So good
So I will let this melancholy sit with me as long as it needs
But my good simple life is good
And I’ll stand by it
And alter these pants I got at the thrift store
So I can wear them when my cover band plays our next show
And I’ll study for the teacher exam
And I’ll play with my cat
And work on my album
And have sleepovers and
Write poems
Smile so much
And breathe so so deep

The other morning
I hugged my favorite tree
After climbing high up in her branches
And she said to me
After a judgment slipped through my thoughts
That so many of her under branches were dead
I wondered if something was wrong with her
I wondered if something was wrong with me
For loving her so
And she said to me
"Don't love me for the way I make you feel,
Love me because I am a living thing among living things"

I climbed a tree
Praised it's firmness
Then judged it's dead leaves
And then it said to me:
Don't love me because of how I make you feel
Love me because I am a living thing among living things

...They had gone for drinks. Then dancing. Then kissing. Then that night as he lay on her brothers spare couch, too drunk to drive, she kissed him goodnight. He wanted more and she wanted nothing more than to have it.
...
Two days later they were in a sweet little tent of sheets. Two days after that they were there again. And again for a week. She swore the air was foggy, the way his big hands and even bigger arms made her feel was like something out of her deepest longings. They took off each others glasses and looked into each others blurry eyes, her hair was curling in that wet air, her cheeks were red and he was falling quickly down her caverns. He kissed her face until the sun came up and then willed it to go back down. But she had other things to do.

Eugene had schemes and dreams for Davina, he wanted to take her far away and make her happy. He could too and she knew it. Terrified, she ran away swift and quick. She was in such danger of being content with the heart of someone else. He barely saw her go.

The air wasn't wet anymore, her waist was lonely without his fingerprints. But her eyes were dry and strong her thighs.

She burned the cabin down, left him with her lavender lace and took back her blurry eyes.

You came back
A Karmic kiss in my DMs
A sputtering start
Formed by my fears
Smoothed into a languid forgiveness
I never dreamed would be mine

Such a special gift
To communicate with you
To think that one day
I might again lay like a cat
Coyly atop the sheets
And read you a poem
Etched from the friction of my longing

Or that I would just get to smile
At you from across a table

Or take a bath
Or text you while I'm in the bath
Or hug your body
And let all the sweetness
I've held for you all these years
Bubble over

Will I cry when I see you face?
Will you let me hold your cheeks in my palms?
Take you in?
See how you've changed?
You became a man in my hands
In my body
I can't wait to see the man you've become
To see your new body
Tattooed and built

I hope one day we can be old friends
I hope you are a man who respects women
I hope you are still so sweet
I hope you don't notice the new depth of my laugh lines
Since you saw me last
I hope you marvel at the length of my hair
As I know I will marvel at the shortness of yours
I hope you let me touch the back of your skull
I hope you wrap me up tight

I have a vision of our meeting
I'm wearing a royal blue, loose knit sweater
Over a bra with jeans
I feel the strength of your arms
As you wrap around my lower back
I bend backward slightly and we both feel safe

And I hope there is still
A vulnerability in you
That is familiar to me
I hope you'll make me feel 23

Sweet confession
"You're the meteorite"
Sweet validation
"I like that"

Life is full of surprises
Our reconnection has taught me
That love is never lost
Good ones come back around
And my life is pure magic
I need only let longing warm the space behind my heart
Write poetry
Dream
And lost darlings will come back to me.

Nothing so soft and inviting as your skin
Your lips like little heavens
Your eyes holding thousands of celestial bodies
Electric connections in your freckles
Your glowing cheek bones
And texture of your laugh lines
The way your upper lip covers your teeth when you’re being silly
Your delicate fingers
Your forward and bold shoulders and the way you make me feel something new when you hold me
When you pull me in with desire I feel something some unexpected magic that I though died in 6th grade animate in fluttering movements
Your subtlety
Your gentleness
Your ventless embrace of life
Your ******* shaped by an artist
So round and cupped and just in between petite and full
Your *** with dimples and delicious weight
Your long legs
A retired runner
The rhythm in your shoulders
Your *** appeal
The length of your neck
The sweet wild sparse little forest of dark hairs on your abdomen conspiring to make me love you even more
Your pouting *****
Your perfect face
Your golden back
The tightness of your tummy, or the bloat when you’ve had too much coffee
The levity in your footsteps
The wisdom in your voice
The softness in your voice
The cackling child in your laugh
The vulnerability of your honesty
So careful with me and maybe me with you too
That vein on your slender but firm bicep
The way you look in my passenger seat
The many beautiful boundless expressions of your hair
The beauty mark on your *****
Your darling moans  
Your balance of masculine and feminine
Your hand on the small of my back
The way it made me feel so many new ways
Like a teenager, like a woman, important, protected, loved, important, worth protecting
Your slow love
I bet you don’t know I feel all this way
How could you know
I never told you all this
Would you like to know now?
Would it be fair to tell you now
That you’re committed to someone bolder than me
With more time to give

Where do I martyr myself?
I ask
And I come up blank
I listen to my mother talk to a potential marketing team
For her political campaign
Republican
And I find me there
The little martyr
Writing poetry in her Mother’s kitchen
An artistic soul
Poor artistic soul
Being so good
So humble and just
Looking so inward
Daring to challenge herself
Against the backdrop of oppression
Religion
Shame
Republicans
You see my mom doesn’t believe anyone is gay
And I am bisexual
She thinks parents should be involved in children’s education and schooling
And as a child she abused me with her conservative ideals and punishments
And yet
I love her anyway
Here is the martyr
The brave little progressive
Here I am
In this beautiful kitchen
Cooking breakfast from groceries
I didn’t pay for
In a house I don’t pay for
And yet I find myself feeling
Utterly self righteous
In my sensitivity
In my progressive ideals
Even in my forgiveness of her slights against me
Even as the so called forgiven slights stand up and wave their flags readily and say “remember me! remember me!”
Even as my records shout that it’s not safe to forgive
Because you see her personal views make me feel
Uncomfy
The martyr runs wild in the spaces
Where I forget my privilege
I’ve never known my privilege to be so great
As I know it to be now
And my level of privilege has not evolved or dipped or lifted a hair
But I’ve been given the opportunity to be aware
And I do believe I’m brave
But my martyr live on the extremes
My martyr lives in the narrative
Around my choices
In the narratives I fabricate around other peoples beliefs and behaviors and choices
The little martyr lays down and disappears
For now
I’m sure she will reappear and pick up her flag later today or tomorrow
When I try on a pair of pants
And marvel at the way I used to suffer so
Oh, how much I have overcome
To now enjoy my body and not hate every dimple and curve
I see that my martyr thrives not only
In the blindness to my privilege
But also in the agreement to recall suffering
It gets caught somewhere between
A decision to not suffer today
And a decision to always compare todays lack of suffering to the ways I have suffered in the past
Because agreeing to forget the suffering
Takes trust
Much much trust
That in forgetting I will not
Fall back into the familiar arms of suffering and abuse
But I think those days are past
I am brave and smart
And I know a good thing when I see it
No need to hit me over the head
Maybe the martyr dies a little more today
As I sign a new agreement to
Not suffer today and to also detach from past sufferings
With blowing breeze that tickles my back
On this late spring day
When all I need to do is enjoy

So many, many changes
In my lady palace, in my pink wallpapered hall,
You see, now I wish to know your middle initial.

You see, it's your chest hair that captivates me
On your face I ruminate
And it's your side eye sugar smile that slumbers on the suede side of my soul,
Especially when we found this new fold
a shape all knees and elbows
tucked up and out and in
a shape with my breast on your rib
and your thigh beneath my shin
all skin on skin
it's that love makin'
that a softer me would want to swim in.

Maybe I'm soft again
Maybe I should let myself lick you

"Let myself"? A world where soft desires reign?
Maybe it's not the initial I want to store away in my brain,
I actually just want to know your middle name.

All the other necks I’ve kissed
Were nostalgic
Because they reminded me of all the bodies of the necks before them
Because all the bodies of the necks had minds inside who needed things from me
But this ones needs no thing
No adjustment
So when I kiss this neck
There’s no click in my brain
That says
Oh this is like the one in junior high or 19 or your first days in LA
There’s no bucket of grainy photos stacked behind this neck
It’s a new neck
Memories are stacking up though
Of just the one neck and the one body attached to the mind inside that needs nothing from me
That has no adjustments
Lacking nostalgia and pain

Everything feels wrong when you're gone,
Like dusk in a movie about monsters,
Like rust, like too much dust,
Like sad elephants lacking tusks,
Too many eerie feelings for me to foster.
Things are off.

Dressed up with no where to go meets the first time you watch a dystopian film as a child.
That sinking pit in your stomach,
That hopeless apathy,
That dread of a future made of nothingness...

Well anyway, those two feelings fall in love, get married, and give birth to a hideous child that comes to visit me
every time you're away.
Darling. Come back to me.
Keep the terrible child at bay.

I can't listen to music.
I can't eat.

I know you're just sleeping or your phone died.
I know you're out eating or going for a ride.
But. ****.

This monster movie goes on and on
This dusty, rusty dusk won't end
And the elephants lacking tusks?
They moan and bellow and I join them.

Sometimes it’s been too long
Since I’ve contemplated my own beauty
Spent time in the mirror
Admiring my cheek bones
And collar bones
And my hair
Admiring the way light
Plays on my face
Like a painting
I’m an adorer or adoration
And being adored feels just right

An old woman sits alone in a room
Counting words as they fall from her mouth
Creaking and groaning
Falling from her mouth
Crackling down like dry leaves

She is dying tree
With roots that feed the earth

She wears a cloak around her shoulders
Tassels brushing at the floor
Capturing dust from all the rooms
In which she's sat and spoke before

She is spooky
She is powerful
Within her darkness and light

Her ample hips covers the ground beneath
Wrinkled and fallen flesh
Her crossed feet have walked for miles on earth barren and dry
And in a garden lush and supple is where she learned to cry,

She is the woman
My old woman
Who's come for my nightmares
To ***** away the part of me that cries when she is scared,

She beckons me into the night
With long fingers
Wrinkled, knobby, soft, veiny, calloused,
And says:
'Child don't be afraid
Your time is nigh
Trust me for I am your old woman
and I lead only where you will go'

You lied about my sweet weight,
And you lied about my arches,
You lied about your love for the depressions in my skin,
You faked that sincerity
Of course you lied, because how else
Could you make love to my demise?

You lied about your moon and my tides,

But you tread upon on my land,
Cheer as my salt beats my rocks into sand, I never flinched at your hand,
I never quaked at your voice,
But I should’ve,
I would’ve if I had known that you would run my rivers dry,
That you would lick your lips and sigh

You’re sick in that the only thing I hold dear,
You craved to hunt.

You rip into the throat of my wild and reckless stag,
Watch it bleed as it cranes to see by whose hand it falls,  
As it breathes its last breath it catches sight of your thumb,
It knows, but consciously it forgets, because
It is with this abandon that I die for you daily,
And you **** me anyway.

I should’ve quaked at your voice,
Hearkened to the screaming that ripped away my choice,
You never loved my mountains, fountains of lies I threw back and back,
You lied about my ocean that you don’t care to explore,

It was critical and fatal,
You lied about my sweet weight and that I cannot forgive.

Feel good
Be natural
Look good
Never again will I point my foot to elongate my leg to look like I’m sexier than my self with my ankle flat

I appreciate your mouth that is like a plush bow
Thoughtful words shooting from between like an arrow
I love your dove-like qualities
But you’re not like a regular dove
You’re dove who was perhaps a spy
In another time
In another life
You’re a dove who makes you think she’s shy
Until you look her in the eye
And she fluffs up her down
Pounding the air with coy wings
Sending shock waves through your things
Cooing
All the while looking so inviting
A bit naive
With soft, shiny eyes
And just below those fluffy thighs
Are talons that might clutch
You if you’re lucky enough
And the harp song and lightening storm of your mind
I think it’s really really divine
You’re as much vintage Chanel as you are a steaming bowl of organic porridge with honey and fresh berries and a bright green mint leaf on top
You’re the long red hairs on an orangutan’s elbow
And you’re the sweet way
A primate
Holds her babe
To her ******
You’re a late dinner with friends in 10 years
Wooden bowl in hand
Comfort in your hips
Power in your feet
And an expression on your mouth
I feel lucky to imagine
You’re a face I wanna watch age
You’re a place where I can misbehave
You’re a space I sometimes crave
You’re ripples in a pond
And you’re a rave
You’re a song
I’d love to keep humming
For a long
Time
You’re a natural
And you like to pretend you’re not
And I believe that sometimes you really believe that you’re not
But nevertheless you are a natural
And you make me feel like one too
I love few things the way I love being natural with you

What to do with the hum-drum, mundane, been done?

That no longer comforts, rests easy or pauses.

Now only exciting excites
Nothing bites quite as it might
Have when I was up all night
Dancing,
Now it’s poetry and mirrors that
Charm
Me

But thinking of that sweet drunk girl dancing on her toes at midnight with a stranger...
AH!
There it is.

A new mundane for my new old brain to charm when clouds won’t let go their rain.

Why do men
The sweet ones
The good ones
Still only want to say your beautiful
And daring
And smart
And an unstoppable force
They only want to say it to you
But if you say it without them
Telling it to you first
Now your selfish
Now you didn't give them enough praise
Now you're vanity with too much self-praise

What if I know I'm beautiful
And strong
And courageous
And bold
And adventurous
And resilient
What if I know that without a man ever even entering the room

What if I don't want to be saved
Or fixed
Or complimented
Or comforted

Would you know what to do?
Nice man.

If I didn't need you?

Youuuuu
are
justlikeastrongcupofcoffee
in the evening before bed
to keep you uh-wake
on a day where the afternoon was so divine
it sloshed into the night
and now you don't want to close your eyes
and miss whatever else
magic might
befall your nest
So instead of rest
youjackuponcoffee
withmilkandsugarandcream
that feels warm in your throat
that feels smooth on your teeth
and you walk up to the window
and feel nothing but content
to let your feet peruse the hardwood floor
or to sit in your favorite chair
your lower back relaxes
and the lighting compliments your hair

What was it
About
The soles of my feet
That made your mouth quiver

Maybe
The vulnerability

“He said achingly as he was convinced to stay for an hour longer”

Slowly and then all at once
I was beneath the sheet
It touches my nose and sways as I breathe out
Is it pink? Or white?
Who knows

Sheet touching my nose
And I crave nothing
I’m sweet on this sensation
Of cotton wooing my nostrils
And breath circulating beneath my chin for the sake of this prose

A notebook
A blank sheet of paper
You aren’t bringing old things with you into the now
Because you are present.
You have never triggered me
That’s amaZing

I want to smoke something
And I want to be touched
I am tired of moving and doing
I want to lay down and explore
And sway on someone
Who’s body can support mine
I want to share a laugh with a peer
I want to exist in space
With someone
Has my anxiety been high lately? I wonder
I wonder if something is wrong with me
The little scared child comes from behind the screen
Tears brim in her eyes
And she wonders if she did something wrong
“No” I tell her
As I wrap her in my arms
Put on sweet music
And dance around
“You have never done anything wrong in your life”
And everything becomes okay
And I can lay here
Touch my sternum
And breathe

Something that could have been terrible ended up not
And
That
Is
Just
Fantastic

I miss being seen
By someone
Intimately

My ******* haven’t made eye contact
With other ******* in a long while

Though only since October 9
And now it’s Jan 1
And that feels like too long

But I won’t go prowling in the streets like I once would have
For someone yummy
To make me feel seen

Because I’ve long exhausted
The part of me
Who’s intrigued
By a novel human
By their novel *******

No
Now I want someone worthy of the next decade of my life

You're still my vice baby
It scares me how much I love the thought that I could be yours too
The idea that I'm not
I push away
As it tries to confirm old beliefs that I am not enough
That what I want will not come to me

Because I live anew
Now
What I want lands in my path
"I am abundance" I repeat as I fall asleep

I hope with tearful eyes
And shaking breath
And that sweet earnest quiver in the bridge of my nose
That one day you won't be my vice
That you'll be my good morning
Or my Tuesday afternoon
That we'll be in tune
Like we were in June and May and October and December

I don't want anything from you that you don't want though
And how hard to know what to want
When I'm afraid.
I don't want to live in fear
So I must live apart

But is it all so dramatic anyway?

I don't want to always be so deliberate in my wants

It's not all love and romance

It's just a normal day
Meaning passing between us

Is what I pretend.
But really.
Fervently, I love you.

I love your jaw and your voice.
I love your laugh
How giddy you become like a child smiling at the sun
I love your mania
I love your crazy eyes alight in the moon
I love your BELIEF I love your ******* earnest sincerity.
Who the **** else is earnest like that?
It's gorgeous, I'm obsessed.
I could drink and bathe in your sincerity.

A bless or a curse to be the object of my obsession
I worry how my attraction to you would affect you
Would it be too much?

I think so.
Read the signs, see the facts
When someone tells you who they are believe them and all of that...
But, I'd rather not?
Instead I want to think that when we stood behind your house smoking that joint trying to stay away from the wind that you felt the tension too.

I love the way you wear boots.
I love the way sweaters hang on your shoulders.

****, each time I revisit your room in my mind I must confirm again and again with growing certainty that I am obsessed with you.

It’s okay

Nostalgic kind of love
The kind that hurts kinda nice
In the sweet places

It feels old and familiar
Worn out
It doesn’t keep you warm anymore
But you love it for its wrinkles and holes

Sugar sweet
Like a pinup girls pouty lip
In a magazine from the 40s

Something is wrong with it
But it looks nice

And now
On quiet nights
It comes to you
Unexpected

‘I hope I’m welcome’ it says
As it seduces my psyche
As it takes my cheek in its palm
As it looks into my eyes and soothes the pain that it brings.

Your psyche would shatter,
Your veins turn blue,
Your bones surely would melt into glue,
Just a glimpse of the dreamscape of my year without you,
The magic moments in my mind,
Would burn out your eyes and leave you blind.
Your heart would wrench.
Your throat would catch.
And vengeance would never be mine.

Half the time,
Half the heart it took,
Double the time and hiding beneath the cloth of the breakfast nook,
Lay fast asleep the death of dreams,
That would awaken when,
Her satisfaction,
Was just a fraction,
Her inaction,
Was his redaction and their attraction,
Wasn't gaining traction but rather losing the bet.

Is it selfish to chase your dreams once you've pushed humans out of your seams?

It's March in California and,
It feels like an early September evening in Virginia,
An owl is cooing,
A nostalgic singsong that reminds me of the woods behind my parents house,
Comfort seekers in my senses inflate,
Disappearing into a heady haze,
Anything to distract myself from the mini self-betrayal I just executed.

I can watch myself as I do it,
Basking in this nostalgia,
The detachment from my pain easing my shoulders,
Making me feel high,
Or maybe it's the serotonin and dopamine,
Coursing around in my body,
Freely,
As it pleases,
Results of.

The owl is howling and my roommate is home,
My phone is silent and I'm blissfully alone,
Detachment, detachment, detachment,
My favorite drug, how I've missed you.

So sickly happy,
So near to trauma,
(my familiar place)
But my perspective saving me from feeling it..

I could be in Virginia in 2008,
My legs a little hairy,
A breeze blowing through my long, long hair,
Innocence teasing me.

Or I could be here, now,
Listening for an owl that has stopped calling.

How delicious. Sweet detachment.

My favorite drug.

Days where I'm nostalgic for poems I haven't written

For  words I haven't said

For feelings I used to have

But now I can't remember what they felt like

Anything can be sad if you look at it the right way

Anything can be glorious if you sit low enough

I have been having
Good days that I work for
And I patiently await the return of
the middle moments where you look at the wall
While you’re taking a ****
And think
Man
The wall is pleasant
And I feel good

Simplicity
In all its forms is good.
Simplicity
Simplicity
Sim pliss ittee
Even divinity has nothing on it
For simple things are not simplicity
It is the conduits and the nuances and very pragmatic essence of things that are simplicity.
Divinity is better than to be divine
Simplicity is better than to be simple

Be in the dark, in the quiet feel yourself, only yourself around you, feel just one bit of your skin as it exists on you, and be clear. That simplicity is where you find rest.

Oh, divine.

I lie awake at night
Plotting revenge
Im not sure I’ll ever take
I **** the meat juice from my finger
While I cook a messy spaghetti sauce
And miss kissing someone
I delete distractions from my phone
Only to watch hours of Hulu
And also to sit for hours in the woods
I respond to a text from a week ago
For whatever reason
The stamina now in my fingers to type
I think of my sister
And cover my room in crystal protection
I feel bad about myself
And remind myself
Not to feel bad about myself
I pet my kitten
And wonder how she likes this new home
She loves my mom
Which delights me to no end
I feel my heartbeat
Pulse in my toe
And wonder what’s going on
With my circulatcion