There's a way to my heart
You're bulldozing the off roads
Every test
You surpass
What is it, if not true?

I think about the places
I roamed at night
With heartbreak as my inspiration
Then I came to you:
the hope and the dead end

The map is something larger than us.

And I thank you for being
Afraid, afraid, afraid enough
To crash us off track
Where we'll never know the truth

I want you to write words
against my thighs
Lingering inside the crevices
that make poetry make sense

I want the pressure of your fingers
strumming my lines
Letting go of fear
Crying out with wonder

I want the imprint of your lips
to teach me how to play
Without formula and potion

A magic derived from the
sanctity of your love

There's a girl I couldn't stop thinking about
She often smiles, she gives when she has none to give,
And she likes to do the right thing.

There's a girl I'll never stop thinking about
She winked, she took when I had nothing left to give,
And she liked what power could bring.

There's a girl in between that I sometimes forget
She did not talk, she had nothing to give,
And she liked to be honest in everything.

The girl I am is probably memorable
I flirt a lot, I give when there is something to get
I like a piece of each of them.

Where's the catch, where's the fairytale
I'm playing a game, all to no avail

I have a bad habit of re-reading.
Those texts; the birthday cards; the love letters
It's something about visiting my thoughts
that almost makes me validate them
The way longer words connect,
and pointed words hit home.

Sometimes I write the feelings I don't understand
Closing my eyes to picture the grief and fear
Gulping back confusion
Because where I've ended up is getting more clear.
It may take years, but I return to the page
Of me and you
But really it's me, it's the dreams and the desires
The conscience, although mine's tired

The pages speak to me such that
I want to say, "I see"
The thing about re-reading those letters to you
is that the message, it's always been for me

There's a TV in the corner
Playing scenes that help me cry
Ones where the lover returns,
Ones where the innocent die

Some days they won't be there
the friends we cried with
the lovers we whispered, "forever", to
the ones who brought us into this world.

Some days we grip our sheets tighter
Layer our lungs with old scents
Take longer walks, as if we have a destination.

Some days we just have to wait to see who returns.

Legs skinned, flesh peeling away
My hands search for something and conceal another
It's hard to tell in the red dimness
of the moment

I feel both the pressure and pride
that comes with leadership
The plan is under way
Manipulation comes easily
When the Devil digs her pointed nails further
Into the slit separating bone from blood
---
When I wake up
My heart is heavy
My mind tangled
Jaw sore from the raw inside of my cheek

For the rest of the day
I am left with the question of what it means
To still be alive

White-grey skies encapsulate
an overgrown fir tree
and tightly curled cat

I am not happy
Except for moments of
mindfulness

******* in the darkness
Rapid conversation
A walk outside
Beautiful songs about loss

Everything feels out of focus,
When we're not in the same room.
Spinning smiles of the hopeless,
Grip your words like an heirloom.

abundant whiskey
clashing teeth
highlighted magenta
I'd like to kiss ya

11:11 stamps your wrist
babe-
it's your cologne I missed
But quiet, this love's second rate
And I'm always one minute late

Red plastic beneath my thighs
Brick against my back
I'm thinking about home.

A chilly New York pool
to Oregon's straw meadows
to cicada wings
sounding loudly this Oklahoma night.

Home has never been a place.

a piece of glitter stuck to my cheek
coffee steam in a crowded lecture hall
tipsy strolling past street lights
a splotched paint palette.

Moments that piece together
in a fashion that transitions
with the moon.

My gaze is set
on a dim crossroad
And I wonder where I'll bring
Home next

You say we’re at two different points
in life
So I imagine you there
While I am here

I see us sipping morning coffee
By a black desk
Furrowed brows
As we set new bills aside

Straining eyes studying
Used textbooks
I see you take medicine
And check my pinned photo
While I linger in sheets
I chose for you

You say we’re different
But I say we’re intertwined

Please check my photo one last time
Because I keep seeing you
Each point of me
Running parallel for us

it's been 22 days since we last spoke. 1 month and 2 days since you decided we shouldn't be together anymore.
     I'm ashamed about how long it's been, that so much time could pass without the earth shattering.
     I never expected you to come back running. I know that when you make decisions, you make them concretely. My shame is in living each day normally, although you aren't here anymore.
     A little over a month--that's how long it took me to tell you I loved you.
     Do you think of me too?
     Because it's been 1 month and 2 days, and all I can say is, "I still love you".

We own a black loveseat
I hear you wonder, “Do you still love me?”
There is no doubt in my touch
I pull you in, night after night
And we never drink alone.

Cup my face, hold my waist
I like the way you ask how I’m feeling

A record humming
Occupied guest room
And small swirls collecting in my chest
Our clasped hands knock down city lights
We take pleasure in the bursting sparks

Cup my face, hold my waist
I like the way you ask how I’m feeling

I’m happy at my day job
But I’m happier with you
You curl into me,
So I don’t wonder about the future.

And we never let go of the black loveseat


…Boston

The bulb of a music note dips into my neck to stifle my breath, my heart, my noise
I ****** to a rock song, and tremble in the profound desires of an artist
I don’t know the name of
We keep tempo and revel in songs that amplify the connection between you and I
A vital pleasure; The way you need music is the way I need you

Flashes of past nights when this method of release heightened my grief show me a
beige carpet floor beside a blue-green Walmart bed set
Satisfying sobs thrummed in tune to death wishes and I can’t quite tell if my present
tears represent some revival of that with you
I used to hide between lyrics and click song after song to feel something similar to the graveness in your eyes when I suppress ******* ringing in high key

Proof you dedicate this playlist to me.

I see sound waves disappear into the ceiling with my eyes rolling shut
My soul is almost mourning, until a confessional guitar saturates me once again
A tear might slip as I arch my back to the bridge
But your thoughtfully selected art carries me through to
a blankness very different from the past

Now I’m raw, encircled by warm, oak tones and the Winter breeze that draws me
close to you
Gratitude vibrates outward and I am breathing in the melody of pheromones
You skip songs and whisper about the pulse of Third Eye Blind; I know that
The way you need music is the way I need you