A fault line runs in me through and through
Awakening unexpectedly,
Tearing at me
Night and day.
It crackles in the skin of my hands
I hide it from everyone.
You changed that,
As we search for each other in the dark,
Our skin and hair
Here and there.
I slept with a soundtrack
Of your breaths,
Whispering to me
The calmness of assurance
What else could I need,
The cracks within me fell asleep,
And so did we.

A vast expanse of gray
no blue, no light.
as above, so inside
no light for miles,
only a gray curtain pulled shut.
sometimes that rain comes
buckets of water dumped out.
sometimes the rain doesn't come,
but it's still there.
In the gray curtain pulled shut.
As above me, so inside me

I remember
when growing up
was desired.
We swung our lungs
upwards,
towards the sky,
so we could steal
the air of the
universe's river.

I'd call you on
my parents' red landline.
You'd call me on
a broken cordless phone.
Your father would yell
and I could hear your mother
knock over things
as she was either
running, hiding, or
fighting back.

You don't exist.
You're a figment of my
imagination.
You're a poem,
but I want you to be
a memory that is real
to substitute the ones
I wish were fake.

You don't exist.
Your name is not
Kimberly or June.
Your ears aren't pierced.
We never played games
or shared deep thoughts.
We never talked about
running the **** away.
We didn't grow up together.
We aren't close.
You were never born.

You are just a phantom
stemmed by an unoriginal
imagination. imagination.
imagination. imagination.
But I want you to be real.
Please exist beyond my mind.

In my head,
you confided in me.
In my head,
I wasn't so ******* alone
from ages 6 to 16.
In my head,
you're a phone call away.
I don't want to write a poem
to communicate to you.
Be born. Be born. Be born.

I have so much
I want to share.
I want you to meet
my girlfriend Rachel.
I want you to hear
about how everything
is going well, for once.

Be born. Be born.
Be born. Be born.

Our souls were
        Heavy with

        Silence, on the night we parted.
        At least, they were to our ringing ears.
        Yet everyone could hear it but us, it seems.
        
        That sad melody of our hopes and our fears,
        Heard from miles and years
        Away... of sad romances and softly whispered dreams
        That our hearts told us could never be... They were right, it seems.

        You won't remember my face.
        Only echoes of my skin; like a portrait
        Under a portrait, painted over in every empty space
        ...
        Like so many failed paintings;
        Like so many failed...

        My hands won't even allow me to write.
        Isn't that
        Sick?So... Don't ask me to write any more. I won't ask you to
        Sing

        More. I'll write no further
        Eulogies for our failed sonata. Here's the coda. There's the door.
        ????   Isn't it funny? That we couldn't hear that sound before?
We were singing such beautiful songs, but they were
      Melodies that the singers couldn't hear. Isn't that the definition of ironic?
      And... Though I couldn't hear our last symphony, I would
      Dare say that could my ears have divined that melody...
      Every note had to be perfect. As if the composer of that song had designed it

To be sung in a duet....

I saw you in a picture today,

A Family Christmas Card.

Your face looks like mine
you can see it in the eyes
especially when you smile.

He's smiling
Holding you in his arms
like you belong there

She's holding your brother
like she held you
in the few pictures we took

Together.

But there's something
not quite right
with this picture.

You can see it in your eyes,
especially when you smile.

Some things will
never be
Perfect.

I'm sorry I'm not 'perfect'
I'm sorry my hair isn't as thick as hers
I'm sorry I'm not as blonde
I'm sorry I need glasses
I'm sorry my eyes are almost black,
          not blue or hazel or something pretty
I'm sorry my nose is big and pointy,
          not small and cute
I'm sorry my lips are weird
I'm sorry I'd rather write and read
           because I can't sing or play very well
I'm sorry I'm not curved in all the right ways
I'm sorry I can't afford nice clothes
I'm sorry I'd prefer to help the community
           rather than get straight A's
I'm sorry I'm a really religious Catholic
           not a really religious Baptist
I'm sorry that we're not twelve anymore
I'm sorry that I'm not worth the effort
I'm sorry I'm ****** up
I'm sorry I love you
I'm sorry I'm not *her

Forgive me father for I have sinned
I threw my soul away
I rejected the gifts given me
Because I didn't believe in happiness

He asked me if I loved him
I told him yes because
I liked the heat of his breath
I told him yes because
I thought that I'd be too happy if he left

She told me this was what love was
I nodded my head because
She smelled nice and
Made my headaches stop
I didn't know that
She'd make me question everything

I told myself that I wasn't depressed
My life became an Icon For Hire song
I was a happy girl that's what
My parents told the psychiatrist back
When I still showed them my sketch book

They told me that I had friends and
I thought that that's what the bottles were
They told me that it was okay
And I thought that's what I was
But we were all wrong

Finally I tried to stop the questions
The ones I couldn't answer
That all echoed in my head
So I tied some knots outside
To match the ones inside
And tried to say goodbye

I didn't believe in happiness
So I thought that I'd just die

The girl and I
were tickled by sea foam,
our ankles wrapped in
diamond studded leeches--
We are the
yellow-bellied *******
in a porcelain nest of water.

Our running is stunted.
Our heels are bouncing
off the beach-face
and we are distracted
by the butterflies
because they look like
flowers floating before
the orange
and purple bled sky.

The girl and I
are in love,
but we laugh at feelings.
There's a polished
wrecking ball
swinging between our
chewed lips.
And we agree
love is for tin birds
in a flame cage.

tell me i'm being a dramatic brat
because i'm the one
who turned you down
i threw you away

you have saved my life
too many times to count
i tried to give you space
these long years
six years ago
you met me
and i was a doll
and you were a bird
and now i am nothing

i expected to be your last
pick as it's been
for the past years after
she told you no as always
i actually expected that
i'm such a *****

but she said yes
she told you yes

i remember
when we were thirteen
back when we were thirteen
and now you're and adult
and i'm not far behind
and you said she'd be with him
and in my head i added that
you'd be with me
you'd be with me
it seems i've always been
a presumptuous little *****

i can't believe
i'm crying over you
you always made me cry
more than anyone
even back when i was twelve
do you remember when
we were twelve
and you told your instructor about
how you gave me my insomnia
you were the start
of the problem that still
haunts me at late hours
but you were the start
you were the start of me
of so much good
you are the only one who knows
the secret i won't tell a soul
not another soul
just us alone
you are the first one
the first one i loved selflessly

i tried to give you space
i know i came back a few times
but i tried to forget you
in other men
because you proved to me
not all men were
*** driven pigs
utter *******
like i grew up with

and i asked last year
i asked why not me
what with all our chemistry and how
you're the only one
i have ever let touch me
with out panicking
you are the only one
i asked why
and you gave me the reason
the one thing i cannot change
and i weep over it bitterly
that the only thing keeping me from you
is perhaps
the thing i love most about you

and i wanted one night to feed
my craving for all the nights
but she took it from me
the sweet girl
who has the one thing
i do not
the sweet girl
you met a year before me
and you fell in love with
seven years ago
a year before i fell for you
i love you

i just wanted that one night
one night
a girl who is devastated
over one night of her life
tell me i'm being a dramatic brat
because i threw you away first
and you haven't given me
a second chance i don't deserve
~

How she sat there
with movement in her head.
A churning of learning
the ways to get ******
and slaughtered by
other people's
sons and daughters.

And how I sutured a gust
of her brain exhaust
into my chest, into my lungs--
I breathed her like I was
******* the end of a
tailpipe.

Her hands ran like busted tires
as she massaged my temples,
revving her voice,
my ears on her
suicide door lips.

There is no green light
in her red light country.

Random dates.
Random times.
Useless words.
Stupid rhymes.

It's not cool being
less than you can be
so I urge you--
urge you--
to be happy.

Because there was a man
who was a clown
and he danced for the children
as they were being lead
to the gas chamber.
And it was 1943.
And it was
**** Controlled Germany.

The clown wept,
each time the lever
was pulled
and when the children
became silent.

To stop crying,
he told himself
that existence
is just random dates
and random times.
There was no meaning
in reason
and no order
in lines.

All he could do
was all he did know,
and that was to give
happiness
before they'd go.