you shun me in our heat
you turn, don’t laugh.
smiles crease your lids,
trying to hide it.
but on the fireside i see
the flames freckle
your moonlit face.
glanced eyes break when they meet.
timetables and time souring
my glower-grace.
and then walking away,
you’ve pulled that card again.
does the neglect keep you honest,
when the early hours
made you cheat.
the fear blossoms in crimson
and you laid hands,
***** sinner.
do try to repent—
it doesn’t make it go away.
i’ve lessened in height
since December,
climbing the ladders
asking for heaven in dreams.
(you are heaven to me.)
unreachable.

a siren in flames,
voice not sweet but piercing
i will sing to you
until the ships come in dismantled
and burning board by board
i want to destroy you
devour your living soul
call me fate in dust
industrial war,
or spectral spirit to haunt you,
a plague there’s no antibiotics for.
you’ll deny me to your master
but can’t can’t shake it off
i see your eyes in the fire
creased with your smile
try to shake it try.

you shun me in our heat
but i’ll still know you in the embers
love you from a distance
keep my place in the shadows.
just as the future calls for me,
it calls for you
whether hell or heaven
you’ll beg for me again,
and i will make you answer,
suffer for your sins.

at the violet hour
when your eyes turn to me
like a vulture preying
i hear your voice like
sawdust spraying
off the back of the blades
you’re making your way towards me
i duck i run i put the distance
between us
it’s never for pleasure
like a game of chess
and no one’s the winner.
your slurred words call out
for one more moment
but i know, i know…
at the violet hour
when i let you in again
your chainsaw talons on my skin
my breath sparks like a shower
mid-July, the tarot tower—
every city falls to ashes.
and i cry and i cry to Marie
she tells me it’s just your temperament
frigid and burning
you leave me turning in circles
creating a story out of silence:
i pretend you love me
at the violet hour
when the cars pull up the driveway
i see your truck shudder
your lazuli eyes to follow
i know you’ll fill me again
or leave me hollow.
a vermin on the roadside
to do with as you wish.

i’ve watched the fragments fall.
your calloused fingers hold the chisel
close but never enough
to completely split in two.
porcelain skin chipped,
unrecognizable by now.
i stood as still as a statuette,
i’ve allowed this every minute,
disregarded the repercussions
just to be beside you
only to be beside you
forming a pile of shards
beside you.
your warm, rough hands
and fixed eyes,
mind set to destroy me,
watch me crumble,
do nothing.

scatter me across the
places where we would meet:
the fire pit,
the dim lit street,
the padded arm
of the love seat.

a painted glass life
was never enough,
could never be enough.
but to be beside you…

i wish i could see you without me
rubbing the dust off of your feet.
your tired eyes and pale skin,
i wonder if they’re colored differently.
without me.
this is the life that you chose.
you wake in the morning alone.
you go home at night alone.
without me.
i wonder how you breathe
through thin lips and crooked nose
and how it is you sleep
after putting so many beers
down your throat.

in my memory,
your cold fingers in december:
over my jawline,
in my shirt,
across every crescent.
i felt each callous on my pores.
your scent seeped into me
through my bloodstream—
i was hooked.
i told you i couldn’t wait,
all but begged you to choose me,
i wanted to spend my life with you.
even worse, i still do.

i wish i could see you without me.
are you happy? do you
smile? does your laugh
rumble the way it used to,
the dimples in your cheeks
forming parentheses?
without me.

it all spewed from your mouth
like boiling hot coffee falling to the ground
you slipped me the cue, showing angles on the green
equations, calculations, you said it was easy
everything is easy to you
you spoke of flight patterns
and aerial views
you didn’t mention the airsickness
nor the dramamine pills
you drawled on and on
and the smoke rose to the top
smoke from the cigarette, steam from the coffee ***
a certain number of hours, you said,
was all you would need
as i held the wooden stick and
missed the ball again.

we watched for the Perseids
by a fire on the lawn
that was before i knew

all those late night talks
would turn into something that
i cannot turn off

we watched for the Perseids
while Denver sang about roads
that was before i felt it

every star falling to the ground
burning through our skin
we couldn’t stop it

this is our fate
shooting through the skies
close, but never together
disintentegrating every time

Your hands arachnid
Crawling over me-
Bristled and viscous,
Venomous and binding.
You wove patterns
Under my skin.
Beautiful and unnerving,
The silken threads cover me.
Those terrible eyes haunt my dreams,
My chest pierced by fanged teeth.
You left me in your web to wait.
I can't escape what you have made.

once the sun met the moon
as we sat on a mountain cliff
it felt like years
our moments
my moon-silk and midnights
your burning eyes and fire days
i felt the earth move
rolling its weight under the dusty rocks
my lungs contracted,
my chest expands still,
to think i may be hollow like a bell
while you burn through energy and
cast it away.
once we could have danced
it was a thursday afternoon
but the rain soaked through my
first-date blouse and
it all ended way too soon.

i lie beside the open window
and let droplets from the storm
spray down upon the crystal clear slither of skin,
wrist and arm,
holding the curtain ajar.
i hear the notes like pirouettes,
the clatter on the faded brick.
it all comes clean with the storm.
collected like lost summer days
i sat waiting on your return.
and into pores, through blood stream,
i let it in like you
like the window open wide
as most were simple streams,
it and you were the tide.

mostly closing signs.
how long can droplets form
crystal clear moonlit storm
semi-circular on skin
why did i let it in?

but vast, the mountain-valley-sea.
the northern-south, western-east.
like window, mouth, my star-ly speech
i spoke in circles, or patterned veils
connecting points of light into darkened clouds.
let rest what lies, let stand what weaves
colored perfume, the sprinkled streets
the path before and the rift between.
i saw the sin long ago
curl within and build its nest
but this window
only works one way.

you knew i was there
writhing, gasping for air.
you knew.
my chest still brimming
for the eyes i saw on the ceiling
as i contorted in the passenger seat.
how i hoped that you would
save me, how
i hoped that you would come.
but seconds and minutes,
two hours,
i sobbed, but quietly.
shouting did no good
under the weight.
you broke surface in no time.
i imagined you frantic,
calling for help.
save her, please. please,
survive, be alive when they pull you
from the wreckage, please.
i did not drown in the river.
i suffocated in the unrequited
when you walked away
from the scene.

maybe i have never known fear.
is that this, seeping through my pores
holding my tongue steady, my feet
firm on the floor?
they say you have to have something
to lose. check that box. eyes
wild, hair overgrown, fingertips
unsteadily tracing patterns into my
bones.
something like a nightmare, sleep
paralysis. the only thing i see, speeding
heart, head pounding with possible
plans of exit, but cannot move, will
not.
but it is everything. everything. ever-
ything.
and i am terrified.

i hold you in the void,
somewhere between the future and now.
crawl into me,
eternal water bearer-
the life of this world and the next.
your crystal home ascending into
my fragile light.
you were a child with no weakness,
flawless to a fault.
and as eternity crumbles,
i will keep you in my palm.

is it copper or satin?
i told myself
this would never happen.
a guard in armor
stood before the lock,
now gone.
is it copper or satin,
the contours of skin?
i lay my weaponry
at the feet of the one
who tamed all dragons
and laid the Romans to rest,
the crest of Vulcan on the breast.
or maybe Neptune?
i spent the summer in June.
god, the fabric i cannot discern.
a windstorm at noon?
please tell me, losing sleep.
the way the light hits
in copper-satin waves.
it breaks.

you won't break-
the sturdy metal bones,
your skin of shimmering soil,
teeth of opal.
so unlike me-
dishwater hair in curls,
porcelain skin,
aged paper bones.
fingertips raw,
you could scatter me
like dust, ash.
but you won't break.
i grind into you
with all my might,
feather and boulder,
somehow intertwined.
i know this,
you gently touch
your copper hand to mine.

he turned his ocean eyes
to bear into mine.
i could feel the waves crash around.
sure, i know the difference between he and i.
Neptune to a jellyfish.
still, he holds me
like the god of the sea.
his sea salt skin, rubbed
free of impurities.
his sunbleached hair
and watertanned chest,
they tower over me.
he towers over me-
his infinite stare,
the turbulent crests.
surely i'll be caught
in the undertow.

he drips water from his fingers-
hands that heal, mend,
give life
to the warm, brown soil.
his knuckles, red and swelling,
like a tree branch,
the height.
maybe his body holds the sun.
heat exudes from every pore-
the warmth.
I couldn't compare him to the sea,
the cold darkness, fruitless,
like me.
we live in contrasts.
everything he touches
comes to life;
everything I touch,
to stone.
so I wonder,
when we touch-
why doesn't that
feel wrong?

He spent half the day in the yard
Pruning and plucking the dead
Water and fertilizer and strong hands
Life sprung from all that he touched.
He wiped the light sweat from his brow,
The bandana he kept on his forehead,
And stepped back to admire his lands
Life and color bounced across the ground.
Petunias and irises and tiger lilies;
Cabbages so green, tomatoes so red;
Everything lined neatly in bands;
All the life he had created.
Once he was through, he came back inside.
Took a shower and crawled beside me in bed,
Fingers on my back, watched as it expands
And wondered why he couldn't bring me back to life.

sometimes i picture you laughing
the way you once did with me.
your teeth like seashells,
your hair falling in your face.
stumbling in the ocean,
wrapped in the seaweed phase.
god, the wilderness in your freckles.
i have loved and loved ten times more,
the one i thought would always come back.
he is no more.
replaced by such calm crests.
when it was us,
you were the storm.

if i could shout it from the treetops,
maybe i would.
would it do any good?
this
burning down of caverns
this
aching throb of injustice.
nonsense to distribute
that which is not allowed-
an unholy cloud disfigured.
but smiles fill their faces
silence covers mine.
still, time creeps.
crickets chirp.
chunks of ice freeze.

sink beneath my typeface.
the words were never my own,
but something you ****** into me
the night you took me home.
maybe i found some meaning
hidden underneath
mountains of blue sweaters
in your closet floor…
but wait,
the sentence escaped.
you drew my hand to your lips
and whispered something within,
something without,
something i could not pronounce.
i can only speak on paper,
but it is your fingertips that move.

this constant longing,
this constant dread,
the bed rises
to meet the dead.
the road rises
to meet the bed.
the sun rises
to meet the road.
i fall asleep
as the sun
rises.
and i know i know i know i know i know
i know i know i know i know i know
life has to go on.
there has to be something,
there has to be more.
so many places,
in my dreams,
they seem
to destroy me,
it’s all i want…
escape from this
hell hole.
so much longing,
constantly,
to be something more than
who i see,
to see somewhere more than
where i’ve been.
the bed rises
as i fall,
i fall into the deep,
constant dread
covering my feet
as they drag
through the night
into my room,
my bed,
where the sun never
rises.

i can’t escape it.
five years, i haven’t come close.
always pushing at the edges,
enveloped in the amniotic waves.
shouldn’t this period of growth-
or self-inflicted solitude -
or restful anxiety days...
shouldn’t it have concluded,
bearing some great swollen fruit?
summer has already risen over the horizon
five times
five winters, falls, and springs.
still i’m the same.

i can’t escape.
chilling blue eyes still sail
over turbulent synapses.
literally forty since
that i have kissed,
i never even kissed you.
still, you are the only spark
relampago del catatumbo
an eternal lightning storm
as i curl under a rock
slowly attempting to crawl
to the safe-zone.

i can’t escape it.
unfurling my shriveled wings
i can’t help but glare at the light
reflecting off of silver rims,
a careless smile.
you never knew.

i can already tell
your fingers will
wash over me
like the sea.
the storm won’t be easy
my tiny vessel will submerge
into depths of cerulean
mermaids won’t sing to me
they’ll howl in my ears
as the current pulls me
in all directions.
the storm will not cease
until i am a wreckage.
what does this say of me,
as a sailor,
to steer my ship
into the abyss
nevertheless?

i should have known better.
isn’t it always a boy with sparkling eyes
and a mischievous grin?
one whose hands on my waist
feel like Christmas
and his fingers slice holes
into my bare chest.
i should have been prepared.
i’ve been here before.
i should have anticipated the collapse
and taken my fragile heart
to put in its cage
upon the windowsill.
i should have listened
to the voice in my ear,
telling me beautiful words,
and recognized the tone
of deception.
maybe i did.
was it worth it once again,
to be lying on the bathroom mat
praying for it to end?

you’re terrifying-
the way you look at me
like there is nothing
else in the world to look at,
the way you smile
and it wrinkles around
your eyes,
the way you took my
hands in yours
and pulled me closer
until there was no space
in between,
the way you kissed me
and i felt it
throughout my body.

you sent me a letter
last july
before you proposed.
i cannot forget
the words you wrote.
i’m happy, she’s great.
but there it was
between the lines on the page,
the ink had bled, a smear…
i think you shed a tear…
the longer i read,
the more it became clear.
i did not reply.
the pain gripped my chest.
for weeks, i could not rest.
i think i’ll ask her to marry.
why the hell would you say that to me…
if you had not hoped i would stop you?
i realized much too late.
you were married this may.

i have been alone.
the wind erupts
through open windows,
sending papers flying
about this empty apartment
in the city.
shocking cold tiles
strike my feet
as i chase.
my heart beats
as the wind slows
to a creak,
the rocking chair on my
neighbors balcony.
my age,
almost a fourth
of my life expectancy.
i have been alone
far too long.

the keyboard grows heavy under my
fingertips.
with each stroke,
the past grows,
the future recedes.
soon i will be dust
and no one will ever know
how much you meant to me.

I don't know anything about you
Night is close enough
All around me, shades of blue
I don't know anything about you
I thought it time to start anew
The water is looking rough
I don't know anything about you
Night is close enough

All-seeing
your eyes upon my skin
the strange smile, the lightness,
then nothing.
are you aware?
no one moves me anymore.
my heart is solid rock.
maybe this is different,
breathless
in the moonlight in the cold
you rise like a tower,
i’ll sink with the flood.


Empty chambers once again,
twice again, ninth again.
i know i don’t need you.
i don’t know why it matters.
i was born with no name,
given this in harsh florescent lights
while a nurse smoked *** on the patio,
i was given silence.


Frozen, solid, grasping,
distinct notes whisper on wind-
reassuring light,
lost once again.
novel on novelty
why is there ‘shy’?
i could hold this pattern,
take it onto skin.

blur out all my words
before they can be heard
i shouldn’t admit
what i cannot guarantee
what i cannot quantify,
or even prove exists
that room in my mind
where we would talk
where you would tell me fancy things
it is just wishful,
sinful.
don’t listen, don’t speak.
the light may be on
but there are some doors
which can only be entered,
no exit.
that is accurate.
let us leave it alone
maybe it will
disappear.

it isn’t over-
not yet.
maybe it never will be.
there was a spark.
i felt it,
i’m almost sure
that you felt it too.
maybe there is time
between here and there.
maybe there is distance
between now and then.
i know i’ve shed my god,
and i’ve forgotten fate,
but i know
that this kind of light
is harder to ****.
one day,
i will see you again.
then it will be over,
or maybe it will begin.

steep me into darjeeling tea
don’t forget honey and cream
and hold your little finger up
now drink.

paint me onto your canvas
along lines of indigo and green
and step back to admire the sunset
serene.

load me into your pistol
don’t jam the magazine
and fire me out along with the rest
now sleep.

he stood
like the Vulcan in the moonlight
his arm outright
glistening in the glowing firelight
naked in the cold
“time is not real,”
he said,
like it meant something
but it didn’t
time moved on.
soon the high faded
work, school,
pop songs on the radio,
everything changes.

Sometimes
I pretend that you died
It's easier
Sometimes
I pretend the stars are gods
Guiding me
Like there is a reason
For everything
A reason why you met me
And left me
Questioning myself
What's real, what's imagined
Sometimes
I lie so well
I forget the truth.

there is more to life than love,
but everyone is in such a rush.
slow down, there will be time
for weddings
and babies
and buying a house.
remember when
we used to stay out all night
just driving around
with the windows down?
we would dream of getting older,
all the places we would go...
we were going to travel to Europe together
and maybe never come back.
but now i'm alone in this sentiment
everyone so blinded by love
maybe i just got it out of my system
high school boyfriends never worked.
or maybe everyone just found "the one"
and mine was "the one that got away"
or maybe some people are just content
with the small town they grew up in.
but not me
there is **** to do and people to see.
every now and then
i get lonely, so i try,
but if a relationship gets too cozy,
i get the urge to run,
and i cannot fathom
why the rest don't do the same.

my childhood friends are all married,
or living together,
or planning weddings,
and I’m alone.
so, they try to hook me up
with matt’s or kevin’s or john’s.
“it will click,
when you find the right one.”
i know what they mean.
it’s already happened, i’m done.
i’ve seen the moon
glistening on the forehead.
i’ve felt the touch,
pale fingers on my arms.
i’ve heard the voice
soft, sweet, and clear…
i’m not interested in trying anymore
my mr. right
has already come and gone.

you, glistening in the coffee shop
skin like aged bronze
Michelangelo could not have done better
you laugh like smooth silver
and amber fills your eyes.
i’ve never been one for fine metals
i’ve never wanted a gem to dote upon
but there are diamonds in your fingertips
gold lacing your tongue
isn’t there a future in mining?
isn’t there a market for ore?
i shouldn’t think myself worthy
priceless art hangs in museums
statues sit in gardens of nice cities
but i would guard you with
my asphalt eyes
and concrete skin
every day as the sun rises up
and then falls again.

As the first rays of morning
Rise over the city I once loved
And I stand on the balcony
One last cigarette in the cold
Your face in my memory:
A blur of pale, blonde, glasses
And eyes that cut through time
No matter how much of it passes
I want to go back to that feeling
The night I saw you dance
In the moonlight by the coffee shop
Will I see you once again?
This city crumbles around me.
Birmingham in December.
The life I had to leave,
I hope you will remember.

i don’t know anymore
the parts of me that are genuine
from those which are stolen.
i just don’t know.

your golden statue does not quiver
the words that you sent three years ago
the cat licks his paw in the corner
he has forgotten by now.

the wild blue eyes that were tamed by your glasses
the thin silver rim against pale white skin
the way you would sway while playing your guitar
your gentle way of letting me in…

i knew the second i first saw you
that my life had changed
but it took a while to realize
that i would change too

i’ve taken bits and fragments
when no one was looking,
i threw out old pieces
to fit the new

three years have passed
the barista
the accountant
the librarian

all different versions of myself
yet still i can’t put my finger on it
i still don’t know what is left
what is it that was taken?

three years
and i’ve become
everything
that you would have
wanted me
to be.

I don't regret
Anything usually
Always so sure
Of my choices
But I let the fear
Finally conquer me
And I regretted it
Immediately.

I should have given us a chance.

I want you to read me,
The words always on my face.
But you only glance
And decide
The book is too long,
Or not worth it,
Or maybe you read the critics
And chose to skip it.
But I want you to hold me,
The way you hold those old
Leather bound pages
And tenderly turn
Chapter after chapter.
I want you to adore me,
Although I'm not yet
A novel,
No masterpiece by any means,
But I could take you
Places you've never been
And make you
Feel alive again.

I don't care, I want you
I don't care if it takes months or years
Or if I have to change cities
Or countries
Or planets
I don't care, I want you
I want to smell
Familiar scent of cigarettes and
Coffee at night
I want to listen to you pick your
Guitar until sunrise
I don't care, I want you
And no one else compares
I want the way you smile in the morning,
I want to watch the beauty in your face
Slowly
Slip
Away.

i want a glass of jack
and maybe another
pack of cigarettes
but i don't want
you
not the pain
or the silence
or the way
you smile in the morning
i don't want to see
all the beauty
in your face
slowly
slip away

Active minds quietened by alcohol,
Familiar smoke in lungs,
Anything to blur the frantic
Sentences that burn and dance
Across synapses and down
Nerve endings,
Trying to escape through
Fingertips.
"Enough, enough"-
Concerned voices trying to help
But that moment is long gone
Out the window, through the
Garden and on to the harbor
Where my inebriated soul
Could rest at last.

As the first rays of morning
Gently spill over the horizon
And through the branches
Of Alabama's pine forests,
I will be here,
Counting the memories
That haven't escaped
The frail caverns of
The human mind.
I will be here,
Wishing I could turn back time,
Back to the age I adored
When your gaze fell upon
My homely features and you smiled.
I will be here.
As the first rays of morning
Illuminate your new city
And you slumber
Next a soul that isn't mine...
I will be here,
Waiting on your return.

there was a time,
in the trodden snow,
on a path
i would oft follow,
there was a moment
i could sense the kiss
i could feel the soft touch
of your fingertips.
but that moment is long gone
as are you
the snow has melted
ground is a soft green hue
and i cannot go back
oh, how i try
i cannot recreate
what there was between you and i.

i imagine you
cozy, by a fireplace,
with a kitten in your lap
and a nice sweater
with your glasses
and the dimple in your cheek
i imagine you're reading
something
and it makes you smile
and it makes you think
i imagine every now and then
you have a nagging sensation
in the back of your mind
just like i have
and it reminds you
that you should be with me
but i imagine
that you brush it off,
pick the cat hairs off your sweater
adjust your glasses
back to the bridge of your nose
and you continue your book
and leave me behind
all over again