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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.