Beneath the canopy of stars
I sit and wonder
Dear God
Would you give me a sign
Would you tell me the future
Of distance and time
How will my destiny take a turn
I am scared of the unknown
Can you hear my heartbeat thudding away
It knows not what it wants
And I am afraid of taking a wrong turn
All that I am sure
Is that I am yours
Write me as you wish
For your wish is mine
You know what I dare not bring to voice
Only you could find clarity in the confusion of my self
And the contradiction it presents
I live in your trust alone
And even if I am lost
Nothing is of loss if I have you

right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
but it's fine, i'm fine.
i've been telling myself for more than a year
that i wasn't going to write anymore sad ****** poems about you,
but here we are.
most days i'm sure i don't miss you,
but then i listen to the wrong song,
and before i know it -
i'm screaming along to band of horses in the dark,
stalking your twitter favorites,
and somehow,
i've managed to get snot on my forehead.
yeah, nostalgia is an *******
but not all the memories sting.
there was that one time we went to the movies
and i slipped on some ice and fell flat on my ***.
i just sat there while you took a picture.
but i'm glad we could laugh about it.
i'm glad we were comfortable.
in my head, we still are.
in my head, we're oversized-goodwill-sweater comfortable.
we aren't as comfortable in real life
but i'm glad we still laugh.
this is the part where i don't bring up the time you told me
my laughter could cure your sadness,
because i'm pretty sure i already put that in another poem,
and it makes me really ******* sad.
did i ever tell you i used to play guitar and piano?
i loved them, but i never tried very hard.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanted to be good without having to practice.
i wanna meet the girl you write about
so i can ask her how she manages not to love you back.
because i've tried everything & i am so tired.
i forgot this wasn't supposed to be a sad poem.
i'm not good at happy anyway,
i never have been.
but in your absence i've learned a lot about softness.
so if i ever find myself back in your passenger seat,
i won't correct you when you sing the wrong lyrics,
i won't ask why when you take the long way home.
i won't ask you why you don't have your seatbelt on,
i'll just say a silent prayer
and watch for signs that you might be about to swerve.
right now there are eleven empty containers of alcohol in my bedroom,
and i didn't find you at the bottom of a single one.

- m.f.

Today we spent all day in your basement playing games on the Xbox and ******* endlessly. Maybe, though, ******* isn't the right term anymore. When we have *** now, it's more like making love, and, god, I don't use that term lightly because I actually hate it, but when our bodies are connected I feel it. I feel it deep in my bones that you love me, even in the simple things: the kisses, the smiles and all the goofy banter. It doesn't have to be said (yet), we both know.

When you nibble my ears, or hold my face in your hands, or wrap your arms around my waist while we spoon, I know that I've found my place. I heard God in every breath you take, in every hearty laugh. Your forest eyes scream my name every time you look at me; tranquil seas of green and yellow gazing at me like I'm the most beautiful being you've ever seen. You touch me so gently, like I'm something so delicate I might not be real.

I've never known anyone quite like you.

you're the sparks of an electric wire not properly insulated
don't want to start a fire just can't relay the message
you're trying! halfway through the wire and then you're like this
unoccupied swing swaying despite the lack of wind
i guess someone was on this swing before but when will that ever really end
you're sparking like crazy but the electric signal never sends
they say "just try again!" and you swear
its really just that your fibers are beginning to tear
you just had to leave that tree stump in the middle of the parking lot
YOU JUST CAN'T move on without leaving a trace in that particular spot
you're moving forward, one step at a time!
you just keep tripping through this
fog so thick it's a never ending mine
you were on the other end of jumping before you realized time had ceased
what goes up must come down but what if you didn't mean to bend your knees
i'm in the back of your mind when your hands won't stop shaking and
your voice quivers when you're finally undertaking
the idea of waking that elephant in the room that fell asleep and is snoring
how was I really so boring?
but it's like that loaf of bread you watched so slowly rise
that you couldn't eat when you realized it was made of lies
you thought time would heal but it just buried your eyes
apply some heat, the mold will go away!
ignore your problems,
you CONTINUE TO SAY
don't pick up that
torn dollar bill laying on the sidewalk on the bad side of town!
no, don't you dare!
don't stop and look around
before too long you begin to identify with that old aged piano resonating in that empty house
and you're sewing the buttons back on my favorite blouse
you've changed your tune so much you can't even harmonize
hopefully you'll get this out before EVERYONE DIES
you wanted to be the one to rip the buttons off
but you waited so long you thought they were already gone
i knew what you were trying to say before your sparks didn't make it
let me be your insulation

this is a poem about how you sleep,
how your body grew cold like a corpse in a mortuary.
how it felt wrong to reach out and touch you.
did you know that you turned away from me
every time i tried to face you?
did you do it on purpose?
maybe you were afraid i would be able to see
you were dreaming of her,
that i would read it on your face.
lines by your mouth like obituary,
like roadmap, her bedroom,
the destination, mine, a pitstop.
loving you was like attending a funeral service for myself
and sitting in the front row. no.
loving you was like watching you pick out a casket
and call it practice. ****.
i know how sensitive you are about death.
i know it still hurts.
i know how everything hurts.
i am sorry for just being another thing that hurts.
i think i'm afraid to let you forget that you used to want me.
like if i can somehow dig deep enough,
wound you into remembering me.
i keep weapons-grade nostalgia in my back pocket
for the days i can feel myself slipping from your consciousness.  
i was born with scar tissue where skin should've been.
but this isn't about me.
this is about the way you sleep
like you're waiting for someone to close the lid,
cover you in dirt, and read a psalm.
this is about the way i tried to sing your pieces back together,
and the way my voice gives out
when i read the things you write for anyone other than me.
lover, friend, stranger,
i just wanted to show you how to love your darker parts.
i never meant to become one.
i am so ******* selfish.
but i swear i am trying to unlearn the steps.
and you used to think my two left feet were charming.
i am out of time in more ways than one.
i keep stepping on your toes.
i can't seem to stop tripping you up,
hoping that you'll fall back into whatever this was.

- m.f.

i have racked my mind
trying to figure this whole thing out
the staying, the going
the threads we claim hold us here
& the people who've stopped to play a tune on them
i sometimes relate it
to waking up in waist deep snow
in our former selves
the us we wish we could give one another
the children we've sat on the shelves
trapped, like the looks
we leave behind in snow globes
i sometimes imagine ships
dragging the bottom to the sea of "me"
for sleep & pieces of my old self
to sell to the new one
like history doesn't repeat itself
it gets me wondering
if you too want an apology from the rain
or if you dream of burning family photo albums
and wearing the ashes like perfume
if you're anything like me
how i hope god chokes
on memories of me blowing out candles as a child
i know i shouldn't reference my reader  
but don't you know, the only difference
between alone & lonely is you?
that if my hands could talk
the only thing they'd be able to say
is "dear god we've missed you"
and how can you tell me it isn't love
when even the rain refuses to fall
in places where i've kissed you
i remember the day
you found my smile at a yard sale
it reminds me of how you'll leave
i wonder if when you go
you'll tell yourself
the person in the rear view mirror
is closer than they appear

Forget the way your lover sleeps. Their soft breath on your skin will not heal the damage done. When they forget to love you, move on.

2. Stop answering the phone so often, go live. Those texts about songs and TV shows aren't saving anyone. This is all incredibly unimportant in the long run.

3. Stop making yourself miserable. Buy that self-indulgent ice cream; stop counting calories. Your body is not your shell.

sometimes i wonder if god keeps a record
of all the times i have been left,
all the times i have been unable to leave.
i wonder if he thinks to himself,
"when will she learn?"
as if he feels my heartache too.
i picture god with a furrowed brow,
hunched over a typewriter,
beginning me again and again,
a mountain of crumpled paper at his feet.
but somehow -
he always ends up at the same point in the story
where i am all ****** palms
and half-hearted hallelujahs
propped up on bruised knees.
spitting up blood & teeth at his feet screaming,
"IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT?"
but he doesn't answer.
and i catch myself wondering if the silence
is his way of punishing me for making a deity out of you.
after all, the bible says he is a jealous god.
i could've sworn there was a verse somewhere
that said you weren't allowed to love anyone other than me.
but now that i think about it,
i probably took it out of context.
if i could add a parable to those already existing,
it would be how your chest
felt like church under my head,
and how i thought to myself,
"this is how it would be if he loved me back."
or how you fled my bedroom like a crime scene.
i am still bleeding.
i won't tell you how many times
i cracked my heart in half
trying to be what you wanted.
how my lips on your skin felt judas.
now i am waiting for god to begin me once more,
hoping he'll leave you out of the plot this time
because i don't think i could stand to lose you again.
see, rumor has it he knew you'd leave
and has been trying to make it up to me
since before we'd even met.
my song is one of repentance.
the wood finish from abandoned pews
rotting under my fingernails.
i made sacrifices you didn't ask for.
i have never known
whether my inability to abandon people
is more a strength or a weakness
but so far everyone i've ever loved
has turned into an exit wound,
and myself into a flickering no vacancy sign.

- m.f.