the knives that slit the dandelions from your fingers
cut into my sleep and burn the insides of my eyelids black
i know it isn't the same hurt, but that hurts more
all i wanted was to paint your fingertips gold
but they bleed red rose petals in my nightmares and
wake me too late

the memories draping over your face like a bridal veil
don't hide your tears from me
please let me take them from your head
your past has an ugly face
full of broken promises that made a little girl grow old too fast
don't keep your pain in your pockets in place of your dandelions

i know this is why i learned how to sew
at the time i thought it was so i could quilt my thoughts together
in a way that made sense
but seeing your bleeding fingers in my dreams made me realize
that my needle wasn't for the fabric i bought
it was for skin and bone and bleeding hearts that mean more to me than gold

if you look
at the
scatter
of stars
in the sky
enough; new
constellations
begin to,
slowly,
materialize.
orion's belt
is suddenly
a man in a
postal hat
buying
croissants
at a bakery;
aquila is
string-lights
on a balcony.
the morning
sun pours in
as you sit,
quietly, at
the table —
warm
matzah,
too fragile
for butter;
words in
your brain
— a tiny
car on the
windiest day.
if you look
at decades-
old photographs
enough; they
start to
morph into
monsters
bigger than
the whole
of you. if
you look at
the monsters
enough; you
are left
with love.
the driveway
is covered
in snow; the
man is wearing
flip-flops at
the park;
the lilacs
are beginning
to grow; the
sunlight in
the afternoon
is turning
the grass
ochre-brown.
you're at
the table;
flatbread
and
depression.
i take you,
by the hand,
to the
smallest
corner of
this house.
stop. look.
if you lay
here,
with me,
and look
at the ceiling
enough; the
paint starts
to become a
night sky,
and there are
constellations.

I’ve experienced so much love and tenderness
in my life
my heart often feels bursting with gratitude
for all the loves
so much so
that I sometimes wonder if I’m not dying
because it feels like the culmination of something

but maybe that’s just the deepening intensity
of life

They said just one, and you'll fly,
Free forever, never to die,
A little dust, and into the sky,
Second to the right, straight on all night.
There you'll find freedom, there you'll find life,
Never to age, never to cry.

But all my happy thoughts flew away.
Now I'm just lost,
Still acting like a little boy, still running from pirates.

Know why they call it Neverland?
Because it's never coming back.
It was never there at all,
And it never will be.

Wendy started nursing school,
The Captain died from cancer,
The Boys left town, the pirates retired,
The fun is over, the thrill is gone.
John's a lawyer, Michael's a drunk,
Tinker bell's taking selfies from her new Mercedes,
The crocodile's chewing the fat off tourists in his nature preserve.

You know why they call it Neverland?
Because you never should have left.
Now we're all just shadows.
We grew up, when we swore we'd rather die.
They caught me, now I'm just a shadow.
They made me a man.

If there was a room
    full of every single person
          who you ever loved....


Would you be there too?

When the weight of the pen is equal to the weight on your mind and your eyes are underlined with dark shadows, when you're wallowing in the shallows and the deep looks more inviting, it's time to throw the towel in and call it a day.

No one completes you.
Don't ever esteem someone that highly.
People change,
Be complete on your own,so that even when your heart breaks, your whole being is not torn apart.

i want to read you the poems i wrote you
so you can hear them in my voice
as it cracks in all the places you broke me
and blooms in all the places you loved

i want your head to rest on my shoulder
so you know where you are welcome
and your hand to be in mine
so you know where you are wanted

i want to read them in your room
so we can be in the place i fell in love with you
and i want the room to be filled with your thoughts
so you know how