Dear J,
   I may be at a loss for words half the time, and the other half I might have too much to say, but I can almost always say this; I love you. I have felt fear and I have felt bravery and I have felt loss. I can look pictures of us and I can recall everything we did that day. I can listen to videos of you and I can tell what you felt. And I know that you didn't think I was paying attention, but I knew how you looked when you thought something was unfair. And I knew the look in your eyes when you saw the light just right in a sunset and you knew that nothing could ever be recreated quite like that. I felt the same way about you.
   Wherever you are, know that loving someone isn't a matter of feeling something or not feeling something. It's a matter of knowing what you're feeling and when you need to let go.
   I think that people know that letting go involves unfurling your fingers and watching something fall from a great height. It's the act of following that objects downward motion that gets to us. That once it meets the ground or whatever surface it is deemed to hit, it's gone. What was there is gone. And once you think about that you think of what could have been there. That one last touch, that one last feeling of bliss that comes with knowing that the moment you wake up the sun will be shining in rivulets through fingers that tangle in hair fresh off the pillow. It's sad to know that nothing like that will happen again.
   The sun won't shine the same way. Instead it may simply fall. It won't cascade, it won't flow over the edges of noses or smiling lips. It's the same way water may lose a stone from a riverbed and from there on after it doesn't run quite the same way. But another stone, another pebble will fall in place because replacement happens.
   I guess what I'm trying  to say, is that letting go is letting someone else take a spot. In order for something else to happen you have to let your joints move out of their grip and unfold from their hold on something that wasn't meant to be held by you anymore.
   Sometimes you have to let them land somewhere new.
I only hope that it's somewhere even more beautiful than before.
            Claire

Let me re-introduce myself to you.

My name is Being Terrified of Love.
I shiver when I cry and I breathe too loudly when I sleep.
But you already know that.

My skin is cold most of the time.
I have an uncanny ability to disappear into any blanket near me.
But you already know that too.

Sometimes my eyes don't know how to focus on you.
My lips turn white when I get angry.
And who am I kidding, you've known that too

Let me re-introduce myself to you.

My name is An Old Lover Who Still Loves You.
I hardly ever cry anymore and my hands hold my anxiety.
But

*you already know that.

The bedroom walls don the shadows of the falling snowflakes
Through the window boughs swing heavy with crystals
Shimmering in the muted light of the crescented moon
Tracks of invisible animals impressed into that white
A wind whistling through empty corridors of an abandoned house
With a chandelier twisting in the ecstatic breeze
Flurries whipping frantically through that chilled air
Winter

If somebody asked me if I still loved you

I'd say yes

If they continued to ask me what I loved about you
I would say

I loved how you laughed at the things I said. The way you stopped mid sentence and kind of chuckled. You'd cover your mouth and your eyes would dance and your shoulders would shake a little.

I would say

I loved how your hands played the piano. I always knew that there was some beauty in humans but never like the sight of your fingers dancing over the keys. You played so effortlessly, like it was nothing. I could have listened to you forever.

I would say

I loved the way you obsessed over your hair. I know I would always rag on you for being too into it, but it was endearing. Whenever you played with it a little I wished that I could do that too. I also loved the smell of the gel you used.

I would say

I loved how the sun hit your eyes. It would make them spark like you had something witty to say, and most of the time I think you did. The blue would look like the underside of a flame, bright, hot, burning. I think I hurt myself on them.

I would say

I loved how you breathed. Just sat there breathed. I wish I could have laid my head on your chest for longer, held my breath for longer to hear your heart beating. Sometimes giving up my life just to be in yours seems like a better option.

I would say

I loved when your glasses would slip down your nose when you were concentrating, whether it be on music or schoolwork. You'd push them back up with the delicate tip of your *******, shoving them back up to the safety of the bridge.

I would say

I loved the way your arms looked around my waist, like there wasn't a single thing that you wished to hold more. Your smooth skin was what I wished I could feel on mine again. I don't think there's another thing I wished I could touch once more.

Lastly, I would say

I loved how you tried to stick around until the very end. It wasn't easy for you, I know. But ******* it you tried. I think that's what I loved most about you, that you didn't give up because it got too hard. You gave up because you knew that I wasn't ready. I'm never going to be.

The only thing I hate is how I have to write all of this as "loved" and not "love" because I'm supposed to have let go of something this trivial a few months ago.

I'm sorry.

Things that nobody talks about:
The desperation of loving someone who doesn't love you
How the sun feels warmer when you've spent a year being cold
The feeling of weightlessness after crying yourself to sleep
When he stares long and hard at you and smiles softly, making your eyes feel shy even when you are not
How people who used to exist in your orbit still take chunks off of your surface, even when you've taken so many hits you hardly exist.

Things that nobody talks about:
Even when you've moved on, even when you've found someone who loves you more, even when you've discovered better things, your skin remembers things best forgotten.

i find myself eating with the thought in mind of how it will feel coming up
i find myself staring at the toilet when i go to the bathroom
wishing i had the guts to do something about it
what a pun

With leaves so rainbowed
And sky like ice
In the heart of fall the trees
Bear witness to true loss
With veining gold fronds
Of deepening red
Fluttering to dormant soil
Met by sleeping grasses
Whispering in the cool breeze
swish swish
Swaying to and fro
In the hard packed ground
As I trudge thru
The crumbling leaves
That disintegrate underfoot
Like drying sugar
Lay down and inhale
That warmth of fall
With colours flowing
Thru the currents on the wind
Brown and red
Orange and yellow
Fire licking the senses
And hearing the birds
Winding down for the winter
Fall

I wish you had heard the bird
Echo a hidden fairy tale
Then offer travels with an elephant to you.
Are we ready for the circus life?

I held a galaxy that told you
"Please don't say goodbye"
And you didn't care

Force and fluidity and
Strength
Swimming through
Thick-as-porridge water
Fifty meters gone by
Calm and serene ripples of laden
Muscle and
Waves
A dollop of chlorine soaked into your skin
Fragrant beyond belief
The artificial lake
A square
Of stony beach and
Eight foot deep
Marina trenches
Catch your heavy breath
And react to the adrenaline
Sink deep into the
Blue-black liquid
Admire flecks of
Melted silver emanating
From the fluorescence above
Land on the bottom
With weighted feet then
Push back up and break the surface
Breathe again

Oh God
He likes me
Oh Lord
He likes me
I think I like him
I know I like him
First date gone by
Winter formal dance
The words coming from his mouth next
"Looking forward to the next date."
Had my stomach tied in knots
Climbing out of his Mercedes Benz
With the broken radio
And the heat on full blast
A smirk
A smile
A raised eyebrow
A nod of the head
A kiss?
Too soon, perhaps
He a junior, me a sophomore
We could go places
The mall
Photo booth Polaroids
Strung about my room
Shared laughs
Long nights
Tired eyes
Upraised mouths
A relationship?
Maybe
A friend?
Definitely.

Sweater weather*
Is
Better weather
And these big glasses
Don't hide much more than eyes
Guess I'm just a hipster.

you are so lovely
i think the stars are jealous

The pale lips are smashed together in a fake smile, the teeth not wanting to show in the little pod of the mouth, hiding like scared peas. It’s frightening.
The eyes crinkled just right so that it looks so plastered on that you can tell it is fake, the folds overlapping again and again in an unnatural way. I blink.
The cheeks covered in makeup, splashed on in spots, smoothed over in others, splatter painted to look realistic. It doesn't work.
The fingers resting oh so stiff on the stomach raised a bit so that they are hovering above the skin, like he doesn't want to touch the dead fabric. I wouldn't.
The suit, so neatly pressed that not a wrinkle shows, except for on the collar where nobody notices. But I do.
The silk lining of the box he is resting in is shiny and overly polished, like a cherry wood dining room table with an overload of Pledge. It hurts my eyes.
The bouquet of flowers is a bundle of Death’s heavy perfume disguised as a bunch of roses and daisies. The smell is disgusting.
The picture frames surrounding the box are shined like pairs of leather shoes, embedded with gems and memories that are long past. It makes me sad.
The stuffed animals in the corner gaze deadly at the group, mold and dust sapping the life out of their beady eyes. They make me shiver.
The chair I sit on is hard and stiff, the cushion starched to the breaking point, the crackly material hardly comfortable. I squirm.
The vent above me blows a gale of cold air and underlying currents, which whips up my hair in a flurry of brown. I pat my head.
The people around me clutch tissues in bony hands, the wadded up paper soaked through with tears and makeup. It looks gross.
So as I observe every detail of this morbid place, I close my eyes and breath deep. Mistake. The air is ripe with anger and sadness, misery and frustration. Musky lady perfume, sharp man perfume. My hands clench, unclench, furl, unfurl. My throat closes up then swallows that lump of matter lodged in my my esophagus. What is death? What is Heaven? What is God and Jesus and church? What is all of that if it ends up like this? Like a cancerous tumor, like a lump of mutated cells, like a painful death? It is forgiveness and freedom and newness.
With that I open my eyes again and cry.

Yeah
I totally understand
When you delete all of
My social networking sites
Yeah
I completely sympathize
When you go all overprotective
Parent on my ***
Yeah
It's a shame
When I defy your rule so
I can fit into the nest of popular
Yeah
I utterly hate it
When nothing goes your way
And your children misbehave
Yeah
I despise it too
When people lie
Kind of like I am doing right
At
This
Moment
Yeah
I know I am faking understanding
But I won't for long

As I am driving through this nameless countryside there are a hundred red lights blinking on the hillsides as far as the eye can see.
And I think to myself, "Oh, the resemblance to life those fleeting lights hold. They are there and gone so quick."
And as I sit in this car listening to blurred together songs I feel so small, so insignificant.
And I realize how I wish to be the dark lights that don't blink at all.
I think I already am.
The ridges on my skin are only as high as a Catholic, my feelings as deep as a hurricanes stormy seas and my expression as blank as a white sheet of paper.
It states something, a blank paper, I think.
It shows that no thoughts are better because you can insert whatever you would like me to imagine right there in my expressionless eyes.
But with you I believe I felt something, a glimmer of love maybe?
But you didn't see even a sparkle.
Who is going to love you now?
Who is going to hold you and pick up broken pieces?
Not me.
I can guarantee that.

Dear J,
   Happiness is a relative thing, or so I've learned. There are different versions of it. Your happiness probably differs from mine, which is most likely the reason we don't talk anymore. Your happiness didn't mesh with my own, causing some friction that lit a fire, at first starting love but then flaming into contradiction. That's okay. Happiness being a relative thing keeps us all from enjoying too much of one thing.
   You see, as humans we always expect that the people we love most share same interests and ideas and joys. However, this is wholly untrue. The most compatible couples have completely different opinions on what makes life better than others. This ensures that we have a wide variety of happinesses to choose from. If we were stuck with one our whole lives that happiness would eventually become nothing more than regularity. And that's another reason we became nothing more than acquaintances.
   Our happiness became so norm that we abandoned it in hopes that a new joy would come along, taming the fire of contradiction. When nothing was directed our way we instead became bored. And that's also okay because a little boredom reawakens our old happinesses.
   So I guess what I'm trying to say is, I hope you found your happiness. Whether that be the way the sun falls on her laughing mouth or the music you write or the poems you read, I really hope that they make you see what life can be about with this happiness in it. I loved you so much you became my happiness, and then you outgrew the position. Become someone else's happiness now.
              Love, Claire

The world is a little ****** sometimes
But who cares?
I don't
I just am tired of worrying about the opinions
And the judgments
She is so quiet
Why can't they all just be quiet
I don't point out their flaws
She looks anorexic
Okay, maybe I do
But not like them
God, she wears the dumbest things
I am just, tired
That's......
That's about it
Tired.....
Yeah

You can judge me
Hurt me and
Rate me

But I cannot seem to judge you
Hurt you and
Rate you

Doesn't that seem a bit **unfair?

magic kingdom
magic castle
tomorrow land was yesterday
fantasyland full of
peter pan and cinderella
NASA rockets
towering giants
risky space
I licked space ice
cream from a
dip n' dots
anti-gravity cup
sailed the stars
of a projection
screen
the beach was quite
beachy
peachy
bright sand
hot sun
freezing pacific
specific ocean
seagulls laughing
diving swooping
snatching
shells underfoot
washed up
****** back
cloudy
salty
H2O
crusty wind
blowing wind
ocean wind
ron jon's
surf's up
beach babes
beach boys
orlando
florida

His hair was dark as pitch, night dripping from the ends of the long strands. His eyes were bluer than that of the sky, clearer than the ocean and more crystal than a diamond underwater. His lips, full and ever-smiling, crooked and wicked. Pale rose with teeth white in between and a tongue that teased with a simple flick over his lips. The line of his jaw was strong, the angles of his cheekbones and nose chiseled fine enough to cut. He had the face that you would want to see last before you died, or fell asleep so that the imprint was left behind your eyelids. His hands were slender, long fingers tapered to slim tips that could caress you into dreams deeper than that of the universe. His wrists were small but not so much that you could break them, and they grew into wiry muscled arms, strong enough to embrace you and lull you to love. His chest, wider than his hips which were slim, the kind that jeans hung onto and slid off of. His waist was trim, and his abdomen carried a lank pack of abs. His legs, lean and long drifted over the ground when he ran to talk to you with his smile all off center.
He moved like a gazelle, graceful like the wind that whipped a flag into a frenzy. He could hurdle in track like he hurdled my heart, just barely but enough to skim it with the toe of his left foot. He caught me between the tread of his hand and the material of his skin.
He listened to me as intently as a rabbit listening for a fox, but with much more movement than an ear twitch. He cried with me, laughed with me, sighed with me. He huddled me between the wall and his chest and stilled my shivers caused by the monsters under my skin and the closets in my mind. And he loved me enough to make me whole again, squeeze me back together with the glue of his adoration. I fixed him, too, fitting him into place among my missing puzzle pieces that I had lost long ago. Never did I know that more than one person fit my edges.
And he isn’t real yet. But I feel as if he will come along, meet my eyes, match my timid smile with a full blown grin and grab my heart in both of his cupped palms.

Tis only 7 o'clock and life already has me down
With the solemn tick tocks of the clock
And the feeling of time passing
The only consolation that tomorrow might actually
Get
Here
The vague sense of not belonging is plaguing me
Once again
But I can't seem to shake it
No
Not this time
The wind howling my name outside my window
Knocking it's icy fists on the panes
Tryin' to get in and shake my
Bones till they rattle in their sockets
So I huddle under the covers of my bed
And
Hope
Nothing comes in
Because it's
7 o'clock
And life has already beaten me down

I remember when I was young
I would blow eyelashes off the tips of my small fingers
And wish for a pony or a unicorn
Literally
I was a cliche kid
Into all the Barbies and sparkles and soccer
And now I'm still a cliche kid
With hipster glasses and an ego to match (none)
Now, when I wish upon those dying stars
I hope for something more
Like money
Or happiness
Or freedom
Something to spare me time to have fun
Because I'm too wound up nowadays
From the stress of school (ugh)
And the problems of my family
And those eyelashes blown from my roughening skin
Is spent on much more meaningful things
Than fantasy story creatures
Sorry to disappoint.

It would be a privilege to love you, my dear
A privilege to have my heart broken by you

It would be a privilege to touch you, my dear
A privilege to be burned by you

I couldn't imagine anyone else but you tangling my hair in fingers
Long and lean, strong and clean

I wouldn't rather any other human to taint my wasted lips
And scar my pale hands with heated fingerprints

It would be a privilege to love you, my dear
And a privilege to be broken by you.

sweaty palms and white faces
freshman freshmeat
the urge to learn long gone
the will to gain anything besides some anxiety issues
long gone

high school students are crazier than phsyciatric patients in the 1950's
did you know that?
senioritis sets in prematurely
and by 12th grade, it kills

am i ready for real life?
probably not
being a final year student doesn't make me any more prepared
except
i'm learning how to manage my stress levels
by binge eating and crying every night

so yeah
you could say i'm ready to go back school

and i've been told a million times that yes, things get better
but how are things getting better when the sky isn't as blue as it used to be
and the grass doesn't grow as fast as it previously did
where is the improvement when i would still prefer your fingers in my throat making me throw up
rather than someone else's lips making my worries go away
i still find myself turning over in my sleep and seeing you smiling before the sun hides and so do you
how can i get better when getting better means forgetting you

We pressed so close
That our hearts touched

i'm still trying to figure out how to tell someone i love
that i don't want to exist anymore on this earth
how are you supposed to say that
killing yourself sounds like a better option than suffering through life with half a mind

i think about what people would do if i were to die
would they cry?
would they pretend they were my friend and wish they'd talked to me longer?
i don't think feigning relationships is such a good way to say goodbye
but hell
at least i'd be known to have a lot of friends

it makes me sad to think that my body has gotten so tired
that i fall asleep in my classes when i used to be the only one awake
it's almost like i'm 80 years old on the inside and my heart is failing with my lungs
and i'm 16 on the outside with bags the shades of night
i'm peppered with bruises the colour of magenta but i find they bring me comfort
it lets me know i'm not the only thing breaking

my veins are too

I’ve begun “The Wasting” once more.

That ragged uncovering of bones and peaks and ridges that crop up along my spine and shoulders.

My scapulas revealing themselves like the bed of a lake as the waters recede.

Indents beside and under my kneecaps, hollows that match the ones slowly sinking themselves back into my cheeks.

And the hipbones…the things I truly crave to see through the paper thin layer of my skin…

Those…I’d starve myself to waifish proportions just to graze my hands along the mountaintops of those things, those sharp little things.

I lose my hair and my colour and my shine just to dig my fingers into the hardness of my breastbone, just to know that my jawbone is an overhang, just to plunge headfirst into the thrill of being thin.

“The Wasting” and I are friends, and I want to drown in her.

Craving something so impossible yet so
Wanted
Wishing for that small wish which is too far
Away
Hoping for that first time, that first, meaningful
Time
In which your lips meet
Mine
And we close our eyes and breathe in the
Other
But alas, I am a hopeless and romantic
Mess
A fantasy girl that nobody
Wants
So I shall wait for the absolute perfect
One
Wish upon the dead and falling stars that claim to have
Luck
And on every 11:11 clasp my hands and
Pray
Because I have figured out, I can't wait
*Forever

The snow dips and curves
Gentle as a woman's hips
Crisp edges
Sharp as the blade girl's cut with
Looks like whipped cream
Tastes like clean and polar
Fresh from a rocky hillside
Dusty, *****, unclean
How much a look can deceive
Colorado is a heaven on earth
And the mountains will never cease
To blow my insides apart
Bit by bit
Those gaping mouths of
Shaved rock and
Blackened pits
Massive boulders lie scattered
Like blood drops from an arm
Yet still, the beauty haunts my waking visions
As well as my
Deepest nightmares

(i)'m sitting right next to you in English class
and i (can) smell the cologne i memorized for six months
(like) warm cinnamon bread and   air
it's specifically (you)
and (i) keep dreaming of you
(just) when i smell that
and i absolutely (can't) forget it
can you please forget about me, (love)?
(you) don't deserve the horrid memories.

The stars said " I love you" and moon said "Me too"
And Jupiter said "Whoever does not love is only a fool."

The sun said "Be bright", the earth said "Be bold"
And Venus nodded, saying  "Find yourself somebody to hold."

Mars circled a little closer and said "Do not waver"
So Uranus smiled gently and said "Don't let others see you quaver."

Neptune told you "There's so much to see"
And Mercury said "It does not take much to know you are free."

So Pluto called out, saying "There's much more to know!"
The universe agreed, and said "There's more time to grow."

The Milky Way murmured "Keep your love at your core"
And I looked up and said "I will always love you more."

The sky

The sky looks so sad
A mix of sleet and grey snow
Falling in parallel lines and diagonal lines and
Blowing into the cracks of the shed door

And the pattering of this sleet
Resonates in my head
Like a distant memory that wants to resurface
But can't bring itself to cry

I can't remember what the sun feels like on bare skin
And bare legs and bare arms
The rays of UV poison soaking into pores and crevices of swim suites
Like the leaking of water through the cracks of the road

And you are laying next to me on the bed
A shaft of sunlight slanted across your cheek
Outlining the bridge of your nose and

The gentle curve of your bottom lip is like the ***** of a ski run
Ongoing and smooth and dangerous and daunting
And I want to conquer it

It is only 11:45 at night but it already feels like 2 in the morning.
A black and featurless night that washes away rational fears and
Replaces them with monsters more real than can be imagined.
I have so much to say to you, so much to tell you and show you.
But alas I cannot because understanding would be futile.
You see, my love, (if I can still call you that)
I still want you, still love you I suppose.
I am lost, adrift amid a sea of black impenetrable and so very vast.
I am unable to say that I am okay, but I am not in a desolate state of utter misery either,
I sometimes seem to trick myself into thinking so.
You see, I miss you at 5 in the early dawn when everything slumbers on the very edges of consciousness,
When the birds wake and coo to their partners.
I miss you in the depths of the night, 12 o'clock and desperate for company.
And I miss you at 3 in the afternoon when the kids get out of school
And the world rushes by in a blur from a grimy school bus window.
But, it is not really the mental connection that I crave.
It was more your body, your hands, your lips exploring parts of my body that have not yet been explored.
I am aware that I could trick many other willing guys into playing with me,
Dancing their lush tongues against already blemished skin,
But I can only imagine you holding me in the wails of my agonizing pleasure, the moans of my miserable release.
I can only see your hands caressing my hips and your back ridged beneath my exploring fingertips.
And I can definitely imagine other, more  pleasant men, guys,
That could satisfy my burning desire for a certain closeness.
Do you feel the same?
I looked at your Tumblr the other day.
It has grown wasted.
The margins of your pages have been filled with sorrow.
Am I the cause of this?
One post caught my eye.
It was a wall scribbled with words jumbled and tangles like my thoughts, and probably yours as well.
It read something I almost couldn't bear to read.
It must have expressed your feeling well, for I had seen it before, but never thought anything of it.
It said that you wished I would bleed, that I would become miserable at best.
Can't say I'm not already there.
It said you were a friends of the devils.
Is that really true?
And it said that you were too nice a person to do these things it said.
I didn't really believe it.
Above it a screen had a few words stated simply in a piercing blue.
"I wish I could you hate you but I can't bring myself to."
I guess I feel the same.
In the end, I am a broken person and you are one who fixes, a savior of wasted toys.
Was that all I was to you?
A project that needed fixing?
I didn't end up quite like how you wanted me to, I was too broken and missing too many parts you couldn't find.
It isn't shocking, that you gave up on me, I mean.
I am quite easy to abandon, you could say that yourself.
But I don't miss it like I thought I would.
No.
I kept trying to convince myself to run back to you, to beg mercy,
To stick your hammer back in your hand and lay myself bare on your worktable.
But I couldn't bring myself to ask forgiveness to what I had done.
My mind wasn't functioning enough for that.
And so now I sit here in the dark of my basement, my dog lying here beside me and snoring in a blissful sleep,
His chest rising and falling like machinery.
My veins are popping up from my hands and my fingers hurt from the non-stop typing I have been doing.
And I can only stare in fascination at the webbing of blue that coats my right hand,
The shadow it casts from the pale of my computer screen.
Did you know I haven't been eating as much lately?
I'm actually losing weight now, slowly but surely, just like I promised you.
But you can't see the end result when I will be pretty,
You won't see me spread eagle beneath you on a pillow top bed like we dreamed together.
Some other person will.
And I feel bad for you, dumping me in the black bottomless pit that is the single life, because I could be gold on the inside, it just takes some panning to see it.

Sitting at the piano
Useless because I am deaf anyway
As a baby one too many insults were thrown my way
Hit a key
Vibrate through my arm like the rev of a Mustang engine
Poking needles into my brain saying listen
I try and try
But nothing is heard because I am deaf
I cry
My tears soaking the keys like a saltwater and vinegar bath
Acidic and all sodium
But then the piano sings to me
And cleans away the cobwebs in my ears
So I hear
And I listen to the vibrations that sound like
The purr of a Camaro
As well as the hum of a harp
Such a beautiful combination for a girl that
Can't hear

Sitting watching the winds dance through bare ***** trees, their branches swaying methodically
The leaves twirling in graceful loops down through the stubborn branches getting caught on the jutting appendages
Lands with a soft pat on the dried grass below, flicking into a comfortable position, nestling into the leaves
A mourning dove cooing in soft burbles of sounds intermingling with the cry of calling crows
A woodpeckers tap-tap-tapping up the trees and flitting through the browned leaves their strangled songs ringing
The hawk circling lazily above the treetops with wings outstretched in a long line, undisturbed and smooth
A squirrel scuttles through the leaf litter and digs a home for the nut it holds in its quivering mouth, front paws scurrying
The family of turkeys cluck a quiet conversation to and fro with feathers ruffled from the chill wind
That wind carries the promise of winter in its icy clutches with the scent of polar clear in its currents
My reddened cheeks tingling from the sun warming them out of their frozen stupor, egging them from the shock
The sunlight dimples across the perfectly fitted leaves littering the forest floor below me, dappled from the shadows
Fuzzy grey outlines pattern the weeds lining the bases of trees, the stick thin traces of branches divide and crack
The air is coloured with a warmth undescribed, brown and red and orange licking the edges of everything like flame
You can almost taste the seasoning of fall mixed with the oxygen, spiced like pumpkin and cinnamon sticks
Rough bark crackles beneath my curious fingers, tips brushing flaking tree, the very skin that holds in the feelings (sap)
Blue sky peeks between fluffed clouds fresh from the dryer with the sheets still mixed with them
Pink veins behind closed eyelids faced towards the orb of light in the sky that heats the ozone around the earth
Autumn eating fire surrounds the people too oblivious to notice this indescribable beauty.

He loves her now.
Those words rattle over and over through my bones
And in between my very synapses
Like loose screws and the wavering chords in a cloudless blue sky

I can see your hands still gliding
Like death over the ivory tusks of a piano
Heaven raining down in small bits of music onto your head
And spilling like glass onto the floor around you

My heart is pooling like liquid silver at the soles of your soul
And I can feel my brain turning to mush because you look at me
With those cloudless blue eyes
The chords wavering in them, too

He loves her now
The four words are penetrating my very skin
Boring holes into the withering glances of passerbys
As they hustle on their way like flecks of trash on the wind
Like a spool of thread in a gust of air

I didn't think that it would end this way
But then again who doesn't
It always ends in the falling of snow like quiet ghosts around you
Silent as death itself

It always ends in the wind rushing through your head
In one ear and out the other
Shaking your mind until nothing makes sense anymore
And *we were the only thing that made sense

As cliche as that sounds the vague impression of your body pressed in mine
Was the only clue that you might have loved me with half your heart
And all of your head
Instead of just half of both or all of one

He loves her now
I want that to be okay for now
The affection for attention so overpowering that it turns into unadulterated
******* love
Pure wisps of breath on a hushed breast and heaving lungs

So turn your lips to her ecstatic face and kiss that sunlight from her gleaming mouth
She has the world in the palm of her hand because you are her world
And she might be your universe but something so vast can't be looked at
Through a beating heart

He loves her now
That may not be me but by God it's a somebody with an ocean in their voice
That quivers whenever they speak
And seagulls flying in their hands as they touch your face
With a foam breath that smells like freedom and hope

She's not darkness
She's not a black hole that brings in all light but doesn't ever give it away

She's the cloudless blue sky that you look up at and take pictures of
Listening to those steady chords that play like the world is just beginning

He loves her now

And that's okay

We rescue heartless wolves
Then fear the crime of saving them

And once upon a time we were both the sunrise and sunset
But the land that we believed was mythical ended up being real

I am made of playful creatures and constantly swirling sand
You are made of delicate glass and tangled hair that slips through my fingers

But together we do not belong
Because the flowers we grew are making a pathway

To carry our imminent death
Closer