Seriously, the guy looks like a Greek god.
The spitting image of Zeus, himself.

I trip over words and feelings every time he’s around.
A fumbling mess of, “Hey, how are you?” and “I read your horoscope last night.”

A vibrant pulse of jitters and excitement, because every time I see him I think, “This is it, this is the day he notices me.”
But it isn’t.

I feel like a bubblegum fairy in a world with an abundance of light and dandelions…
Is that stupid?

I thought home was a construction
A state of mind
That could be built anywhere.
Anywhere that had a bed
and a sense of belonging.
I thought that'd be enough.

3 months later
3,000 miles away
I realized
Home isn't something that can be created
Home is something you have to find
Something you have to feel.

I feel most at home
with your touch.

His "I love you" came swiftly.
Like the monsoon pouring down on a leaky roof
Those three words broke through my defences.
At first they were an ambrosia;
They sustained my life and our relationship.
At least for a short time.

Then "I love you" became an excuse;
For absences, and purpose-filled accidents.
And I ignored the warning signs, the flashing lights.
I pretended like "I love you" was enough...

...But it wasn't.
His "I love you"s were like band-aids on bullet wounds;
Like using play dough to fix cracks in concrete walls.
But I rationed our good memories,
I held on as tight as I could to our love
And watched as it slipped through my fingers.

His "I love you"s became poison,
That seeped deep into my bones,
And turned blue skies grey,
And turned light into darkness,
And slowly killed whatever semblance of love
I fooled myself into thinking we had left.

She's taken your body wash, and used it without permission.
She's used it twice before and
presumed it would be fine to take it again.

You never gave consent.
You even said No.

She's used it twice before so what's a third time,
or a fourth or even a fifth,
she's just hoping you won't snitch and tell someone
she stole something from you...
Your confidence or your peach shampoo?

She lied about the temperature of the bath water,
you were supposed to drown
before you felt the heat,
but you didn't and now you're
tearing your skin to shreds,
Self-destruction on the first date,
how sweet.

She wants you to wash your mouth out,
you said something you shouldn't and now she's mad,
feeling sorry for you is in the past,
the new thing is drowning you in the bath.

Your heads now under water,
feet kicking the floor.
She's doused you with her perfume,
just to see you choke against the wooden frame of the door.

They loved each other
they married
they laughed
they slept
they spoke
they fought
they traveled
they ate
they cried
above this, there is something
moving
below this relationship
below their communication
below their love
a divine
a bonded
an inseparable
called intimacy
the real invisible knot!!

T
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You're facing me, but your eyes are no where to be found.
Yes, you are facing me but your face is featureless.
All that's visible is your beard and the lips it protects.
T
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sludge pours from your gaping mouth.
A dark purple, thick liquid dripping slowly down your chin.
Most of the sludge makes a home in your beard,
just like my fingers used to burrow inside
and gently scratch the skin hiding underneath.
You used to love that.
T
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sludge is never ending.
Yet, this pool calls out to me,
as if to say "paint in my missing features."
T
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             C
sludge smells sweet but sticks to my fingers.
I try to paint in your eyes but am stopped,
for I am unable to remember what your eyes look like.
Your mouth begins moving,
but there is no sound;
no words forming at the tip of your
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lips.
Of all details of you,
I remember your lips.
Kissing you was effortless.
Our lips would lock and never depart.
Your mouth always tasted of sugar; sweet, but too sweet.
Months of being tongue tied left me with cavities.
Your lips no longer look inviting when
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sludge continuously flows from them.
Looking closer now,
I can see letters forming at the tip of your tongue.
Too afraid to explore your mouth with my own once again,
I use ******* to gently pick up the letter.
M
Confused, I look again as more letters appear.
O-N-S-T-E-R
M
   O
      N
         S
           T
             ­ E
                 R
was your favorite pet name for me.
In our most
T
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moments, I became the girl in your nightmares.
I  became a
M
   O
      N
         S
           T
              E
         ­        R
I at least was only a
M
   O
      N
         S
           T
              E
         ­        R
in your nightmares.
Every waking day you were,
and always will be
T
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you can only
imagine my kiss,

i am a mirage,
the glossy night
blown into
stars,

i am a phantasm
in the autumn frost,

layered like
the night’s soft
cloud,
a stream of
golden leaves
crisp in the quiet
air,

i drown in the
water of the stars

i faint, a ghostly
apparition
you can
hardly
sense in
the dream-like
surrender of
our love,
arousing our
limbs,
kisses like
the flowers of time.