You
My favorite word
playing in my ears
like my favorite song
on repeat.

You
could mean so much
to so many different people.
To me,
it means the way you laugh
at your own jokes;
The way you sleep
making soft, short breaths
and I can listen
to each and every one;
The way your skin feels
when I run my hand along
your soft and delicate body;
The way you talk
as if every word is important
even though you think it’s pointless
(But it’s not);
The way you worry
about everyone and everything;
The way you cry,
rarely,
but when you do it’s heavy
and needed
and all I want to do is hug you;
But most of all,
the way you love
and care
about everyone.

You
meaning so many things
that this poem would be
everlasting.

You
day and night
I can’t get
my mind off of you.

You,
someone who will
never* love me
the way I love you.
So now I hope
for someone to love,
someone to love me
the way I loved you
(and still do).
But oh, how I wish
how I wish
it could be you.

we are creatures of habit:
give me love
and i will return it
wholeheartedly,
but rip it out from under me
and i will go on
loving you
as if nothing was different.
we are creatures of habit
no matter how much
it tears my heart to shreds.

there’s a boy who has my heart,
with gentle hands and gentle eyes,
who loves me unconditionally,
who would give me the world
wrapped up in a pretty box if he could,
whose mouth travels no further
than to my own,
who shows me what it means
to love and be loved.

there’s a boy i see every week,
with dark eyes and hands
that look rough and ruthless,
who shows me that i’m human,
flawed and full of rage, lust, fire,
whose mouth begs to meet mine,
dares me to make a thousand mistakes,
who pushes my imagination
into the most primal parts of my mind.

i don't believe in being in love
i believe that there are people i love
and there are people you love
and there are a few people we love
but we will never love
each other
because that's
a fairytale --
-- and everything else in them
was false.

i want to be like the bee
and sting you everytime you say
i feel nothing
i'll only get to sting you once, really
i'd die for you and it scares me
but what's more terrifying than living for nothing
and if i do -- die for you -- i'll know:
a little stinger
the remains of myself
will always be part of me,
will always be part of
you.

into this pink grist
run mercury brooks
from the tower of liana
and ruptured mist
pools an ovarian sky
barefoot through milky way city
above strawberry ice cream lane
stratus clouds scale the ruins
and
the maraschino cherries ******* rain

i don't think that missing someone or something
is defined by the things
that remind you of them
but by the fact that you slowly --
-- but surely
forget those things about them
like their voice
and their laugh
and the way they sang
when they were in the shower
because they thought you never listened
i think it's the forgetting
not the remembering
that drives people crazy
to the point of calling and
hanging up
just to hear that someone --
-- you just came to mind
say "hello"
one last time.

drunk mind games
always my fall
out, as I adhere
to their every
call.

they run to
me, when all is
lost, a beautiful lie
they always tell
me.

their love always
hits me, and in force
I fall, and want
more, from them
every time.

months pass, and this
heart moves to another
lover, who she craves
and needs, but they
fall.

past a heart broken
they choose to approach
this lonely soul
mind ****** I sink
unknown.

how can I want more
from broken souls that
only emptied this soul
leaving me left and
alone.

I have found someone
I adore and cry for
leave me be, let me
be, for this is a selfish
lie.

© Sia Jane

this floor feels like a raft
& i am a castaway
in an ocean of empty bottles
"don't worry wilson -
i'll do all the paddling"*
wading through the night
looking for morning's land
the soothing, softness of sand
i still feel you,
like phantom limbs
clinging to my hips
like the tide to the beach
like the smoke to my lungs
beer & cigarettes heavy on my breath
dread weighing heavy on my chest
last night,
my fantasy you fell out of love
with my saintly me.

i didn't know what love-making was
when i let men storm my castle
******* felt like a battle
and my shame was loud as thunder
as coarse as the men i lay under
i hate ******* with the lights on
because i look for you in their eyes
every time.
i have shared my sheets
with too many substitutes
but you hold me
and fold me
so well that my bed is a sanctuary
i'd let you stain my skin all night
if you wanted to.

this is for the queer kids
who are taught their ABC's
but not their L's, G's, B's and T's
for the Russian government and the I.O.C
who deny Russian queers their visibility
to the people who call me "******"
i wear your name-calling like a pink triangle
stitched to my sleeve
for the Harvey Milk's, the Christine Burns'
and every queer in between
to the allies who do more than say
"your sexuality is okay with me"
for the Jamaican trans* teen
who was murdered needlessly
to the television networks
who portray LGBT individuals positively
for the radical queers
the POC queers
the genderqueers
the queers who have felt excluded
this is for you
for us
this is a celebration
and an ultimatum
we are here
we are queer
& we will do more
than survive.