when i was young, i loved being alone.
i loved it so much, i used to lie to keep the girls and ghosts
out of my mother's head, like i could erase the
scribble marks on the piece of paper because i never thought
they could be permanent like the bloodline in our
family and the tattoos on your wallpaper skin.
i guess you could say my torso is a furnace, kicking on and off
when the time is right,
like the light of the strongest star circling the earth -
i always wanted to see the shadow against my feet,
we were connected by the needle but the heat just wasn't
enough to keep you occupied by the
lengths my arms could make.
you told me once that i had the body of the circus,
there was always something dangerous but sweet and you
couldn't stand to see one overpower another like
the smell that held onto your teeth
and how my temper could never flare when we were in trouble.
when i was young, i loved being alone
with the dirt underneath my toes as if i could walk cross country,
but really it was just my backyard, i just liked to pretend
that i had somewhere to go with a bookbag filled
with some gummies and my mother's favorite necklace.
i will never forget the quiz my mom had for me once i
got to phoenix and back before the sun hid behind the house:
did you see the alleys filled with bottles of cheap beer and
trash, could you see all the colors of the wind?
well, yeah of course.
even now, i love being alone
since the pollutions can sometimes get to be
too heavy, leaving me with little direction and a
map that read to follow the roles that have long been engraved
in the stones that my garden held so loosely,
so i won't accept an apology when  you never meant for it to be
this way, i want you to read to me
how sorry you could be if you would have known
the acceptance of being alone.

when i thought of you i thought of
how many years it took to put together a calculated metric system
that could measure the centimeters of how little we were.
i could see through the windows in your chest, right to the spot that was kissed
one too many times by one too many bees,
i could almost pinpoint the stings - they were so red,
it was like the color of your blush when i told you i could feel two thousand
suns gathering in my voice box,
and i wanted to shine the sounds i could teach to you.
i thought of thrift shop valleys and simple trails to the nearest mountains,
you kept a smile on my face for nearly five days,
but i knew i could not fall in the depths for you - the risk was too high, like
high waters and highway jay walking and heights.
i thought of your laughter like an allergic reaction, pollen swarming into
my nostrils down to the ovals that caused so many sneezes and salt pouring
through my tear ducts like it had somewhere to go.
maybe it did, drenching the ground to form the next sea and maybe it just
grew into a fresh water lake,
because even though the red lines developed in my eye sockets you always kept
me hydrated with sweet, sweet, sweet
glances as if we had something to put away to sell once it
turned up valuable.

and maybe i should have absolutely gave you the leisure to
take my thoughts and pick through them to enhance the
endorphins and forget all the complicated stuff,
since you have a way to levitate up through the mist and
let all the sun do your ***** work,
like the unnoticed trash collectors and the janitors who
wonder what it's like to have a choice.

but i didn't give the green light, as i drove through the yellow
in case the bees were following me.

you know, I have always wished for that kind of love
that fed the heart,
the one that I thought I had such a grasp on,
that faced people at face value in such a
eye-rolling, sea level way.
that could reach the stars and constellations and planets
at arms' length.
that opened my eyes and arms and mouth like a crash
bound to happen, leaving me open and scattered  in
public view.
the kind where I say, "baby, let's have a screaming
match 'cause we don't do that much and it will lead
to us touching and using words like 'baby...'"

The kind of love where when I find you and you find me
our two universes will collide so that the earth will see
the illuminated fires above.
I want to see your heart flutter against my eyelids to
easily say I'm not blind anymore.

I want to feel my body take flight, kind of like
dandelion seeds spinning, dizzying,
plummeting to the ground.
I could supply your lungs with oxygen
if my guard is down,
I will swallow air to inflate your cherry red balloons
til they pop,
because life, isn't simple like that.
we never take notice of how our bodies love the taste of
atmosphere.
I guess we crave it like nicotine and coffee filled to the brim,
but it's nothing like the big love theories and whale tales
in the depths of the ink night.

I always wanted to talk to god through the white holes
in that night sky, to ask him about the finances of this
sort of thing;
will I be in debt with loose threads and dead ends?
whether it has messy dynamics, I still wish for it.

and so I begin folding and creasing the small part
of one thousand cranes, but that's when I realized,
it was only a
myth.
with that, I ignite the paper ornaments to crumble
into our little universes gathering to the seams
and stitches at the wrists covered in hopes to
guide our emotions through the ridges of our hands.

so I put those cremations of wishes in my piggy bank
for a rainy night, where god isn't available to answer
my questions
until the next morning.

and i want to be that girl you wished you could make room in your current events without promising that you'll use "always" and the future tense of our existence; because truth be told, i guess i can't hold much in since i let my sculptured body weather against the rain and the wind and the storms you forced out of the calm palms up in the indigo sky, that you used to collide with my own. the pulse we felt was silenced, but the muscle located behind your enlightened eyes could pull the taste of my apple-core lips and ribbed fingertips against your spinal column with nothing more than the conclusion - "i ****** up." don't ever say i didn't give you a chance for change or change for chance, since i gave you all i had.
but don't get me wrong, i knew the natural games were
offered on a plate with steaming sorrys and sentences
spit up onto the table in a wine glass.

i used to get drunk off the atmosphere,
but now, i heave it back up to remain sober
to tell you,
i told you so.

I have always wanted elegance in
a vintage photo book with faded perfume on the
cover, kind of way.
I want to step on the strings of a robust
cello to feel the taut, bendable life
give out - replacement.
I wish for the herbal remedy for the life
I chose so long ago,
the risks; highway lengths ago.
I never thought I'd gain much from
wishing against the bigger plan for me,
but I lost more than I bargained for.

i guess i thought that electrical charges could
somehow make up for the lack of
similar interests and complications
of heart strings and valve stents,
but it officially meant that i couldn't really
care for you or myself.

so, what if i wanted to be alone with my
head held high to view the beauty rather than
the
cold
and
***** streets.

but instead, i search.
i use my instincts to walk without
thinking
and swallow my tongue with a
scream in my throat and a
burn in my eyes.

yet, i still can find the room in
between my teeth to admit
i'd rather be with you.

we try so hard
to fall in love
with ourselves,
that we forget
to live for something
more.