What distance separates
After being this intimate
And holding tight
To the one out of sight.

A stranger under the covers
The soulmate out in the open
Lovers at bay
And lovers that will not stay.

That chatter of passerby
The friendly advice
One too many
One is enough.

Peace within
A quiet place to live
Far from the maddening
Crowd of people
And their stories

And he told me, "You, my dear, are not a collection of people's memories. You don't need to house and protect everyone; you don't need to display and be proud for what they've done; you don't need to preserve them when all they do is walk over you. There will be moments that you have to guard them, but there will be much more of you having to watch out for your own self. You live for yourself and have confidence in it. You may be broken at times, but it's the fragments which make you much more intricately detailed.  You have the potential to be the main attraction. All you have to do is to let it show. Remember, you are not a museum, but a masterpiece of art."

"Where are your gloves?"
A man with watery blue eyes,
And steaming black coffee asks me.
I almost cannot hear him over the brutal wind,
The city taken by storm.

He leans closer and whispers,
"They are giving some away,
Under the bridge."
As if I know exactly which bridge he is speaking of.

Winking,
He continues past me on the street.
Homeless,
But fortunate in his kindness.

Eyes sliver open languidly, feel out the corners
Stretched, palms pressed against white walls
Pull the covers high above my head
Building courage to greet the day

Lungs fill with a familiar scent
Smile, reach and caress a glowing cheek
Next to me, he turns, all elbows and sighs
Find him  in a second with tingling toes and fingertips

Untangle the limbs and sheets
Firm and nut-brown, coarse in the right places
Soft in the best places, he's flawless
Dare to disturb the rhythmic breathing


Wake up, I whisper
Coffee, he groans

Snow falling.
Ash rising.
Pump blood.
Breathe smoke.
Live art.
Screech obscenities.
Make love.
Show scars.
Create beauty.
Destroy yourself.

your mouth is on fire, i am
between it. the smoke
which we are forever in need of
swims like salmon in between brain and skull

scared (rinse and repeat this part)
i beat into you, desperately
carving the cold flesh twitching
as though recalling a bad dream

but you cave into yourself. a sand castle
shifting and dripping with sea
eyes cast off like anchors
i want, w-want, sorry (in a whisper)

stuttering and shaking and trying,
forever trying, to save
something, anything
of this moonlight which wakes me

i break open my chest, unzip the seams
of my lungs and invite you inside
offering a home,
how selfish. how heavy,

and you crumble into dirt and ash,
prayers answer, destiny
met. left behind, i am buried under you.
asleep. unseeing.

I know at night
Searching for your warmth,
You're always in arms reach,
but it feels so far.
You're an eternity away,
yet under the same sheet.
I simply roll closer,
Arms searching for skin.
Though it is dark,
Your silhouette is clear.
Briefly I hesitate,
Am I a comfort to you,
As you have become to me?
My arms close the gap.
Your skin it too warm,
My hands are too cold.
You sigh softly, content.
Our legs instinctively intertwine.
Then your hand closes around mine.
When did this become familiar?
Before I can really think,
I'm comforted by your touch.
Your breathing, so steady,
Matched by your heartbeat.
Then, without my consent,
Without my conscious present,
I begin dreaming.

he sat naked and drunk in a room of summer
night, running the blade of the knife
under his fingernails, smiling, thinking
of all the letters he had received
telling him that
the way he lived and wrote about
that--
it had kept them going when
all seemed
truly
hopeless.

putting the blade on the table, he
flicked it with a finger
and it whirled
in a flashing circle
under the light.

who the hell is going to save
me? he
thought.

as the knife stopped spinning
the answer came:
you're going to have to
save yourself.

still smiling,
a: he lit a
cigarette
b: he poured
another
drink
c: gave the blade
another
spin.

I don’t have* any pressure to go sledding
Because I’m still afraid of falling on the ice
And you loved the snow

I don’t have to risk my life on icy back roads every day
On the pretense of returning your things
Just so I don’t have to wait 24 hours to see you

I don’t have an extra pair of your shoes under my bed
From when you accidentally left them there
You were always leaving your things around

I don’t have a second home to spend the day at
With open fields full of snow banks for fort-building
The house is gone and so are you

I don’t have a reason to build a snow-fort this year
No one cares to sleep in it, it’s too cold
You were that kind of crazy

I don’t have someone to bake cardamom cookies with
We both had sticky dough on our hands
And we washed them in the same sink at the same time

I don’t have a friend at the Christmas parties
Who can back up my wild stories about the week
And argue with me about the rules for card games

I don’t have a cuddle-buddy for watching movies
We never really got the chance to do that
We were always running off to get some alone time

I don’t have to hide when I’m changing out of my wet snowy clothes
Because you’re never going to walk in from the cold
And start changing your clothes too

I don’t have a fire in my hearth
But I’m sure there’s one in yours
I used to enjoy watching you make them with your dad

I don’t have any wet, *****, sandy puddles to clean up
Because you’ll never walk across my kitchen
And forget to take off your boots

I don’t have to walk around barefoot
Even if it means getting my socks wet
Because you’re not there to remind me with your calloused toes

I don’t have twice as many presents under the tree
Not because we ever exchanged gifts, we were too poor
But every present you received and loved made me happy too

I don’t have snow down my neck from the snowballs you threw
I don’t have wet globs of melting ice in my hair because you tackled me
I don’t have anyone to make tea for, because I don’t even like tea
I don’t have your countless little siblings to share my snacks with
I don’t have to make cooking mistakes because I can’t bring you baked oatmeal
I don’t have a built in heater to share the backseat with
I don’t have a hoodie I can pass back and forth between us
I don’t have a companion to go on long walks with
I don’t have a curious mind to share kissing ideas with
I don’t have a hand to hold when I’m about to fall down on the ice

I don’t have you

This is the time of year that makes me miss you
I start to notice the empty spaces in my life
And there are little things everywhere to remind me of you.

i want to sleep
deeply, soundly
curled up tightly
warm and peaceful
comfortable and quiet
wrapped up in sheets
of paper
covered with your words