adrift in an endless sea
of doubt and uncertainty--
but I know the day will come
when somehow
i will once again
find me.

Beyond a wooden door
there is a room
where we sit and grow
three years older together.
Many words spoken,
all ranks broken.
But a thing is always there—
staining whatever it touches.
Blackberry juices fingerprinting
all of my bright white hopes.
A thing molts in the stale air,
trailing feathers
that wean and wane
by the force of our hot breath;
always there in that room
where we denied tomorrow
every credit it begged for.
A thing we gave every other name
aside from its given.
A thing. A simple thing.

I don't know how, probably never will.
The capture of understanding eludes me
there is no definable logic or reason.

I wish I could capture all the molecules invading the senses and elements of mystery that constantly reshape themselves with the answer being you to the question of love.

For these fleeting seconds, I am fully completely adamant without doubt

For every fibre of my wishing different there seems to be an antidote ready to mute any plausible argument
You don't fit me well
You complement me perfectly
You don't see it my way
You see my endless potential
You wreak of disaster,
You smell so **** good
The argument goes on
Till i suspect the day I surrender
Twisted up in a messy kaleidoscope of love
As dark as it is light
But I am a shadow of thought
A beckoning dream
Contorting into a nightmare
Curious to capture
Hard to take hold
Designing your delusion
Bringing nothing but confusion

I suspect I never will succumb
Except for those few moments
How quickly and darkly they pass
I am happy here staving off
My affections for your disaffections
While you Completely disarm my ever rearming senses
I loathe you as much as I love you
I scramble all the pieces of you only to find them in my heart
For this second any way and after the next,
Perhaps,
perhaps,
perhaps?

sometimes i trace over my scars with my eyes and my hands
the memories proclaim their ownership over i
i remember that i am the master who conquered and vanquished those demons
                   failing at an exponentially alternative universal rate i fall
the abyss swallows me up
the sunshine glitters over us
                                                                                            i glance up and see
                                                            i see him and i see what he sees in me
                                        and i remember
i am the master
                                       that vanquished
                                                                                            and conquered
her *demons.

At the ripe age for plucking.
To be plucked
right off of this eligible branch.
But such a stem stays fixed.
Stubborn and stuck fast—
happy to be connected
to everything that makes me grow.
And others ask, they ask how
I can possibly remain
so incredibly unplucked.
And the others, I tell them,
my heart swells and breaks
with every breath and blink.
I dip it in the bright pools of
those slow-peeled grapefruit sunsets
and use it to finger
the bruised blue leftovers
of the time just before sunrise.
I air it out in the currents
of wish-made gusts from thousands
of floating dandelion seeds,
and I stitch its holes shut
with scraps of  mother thread
left behind by moth-eaten fates.
Every day, all over again,
between beats, I learn to ****
the poison from it
with my own lips,
so it can swell and break
at its very own pace.
I remain unplucked, I say,
so when I find a soul
that matches mine,
he won't have to teach me how.