I don’t want to feel your absence in my bones.
I don’t like the way my veins stretch, outwards,
like they’re trying to make their way back to you.
Because it only serves to remind me how
even I don’t call my body “Home.”
I don’t want to feel your absence in my bones.

I am a lighthouse
       or so I’ve been told
where few ships have sailed
in to find guidance.

I have been waiting
for a vessel to see my light
for a captain to come to shore
for the tides to wash up
        something more than
        a seashell
        a jellyfish
        an empty bottle
                with love letters drenched
                in tears and seawater
                (I couldn’t tell the difference)

I am a lighthouse
Please remember me
in the storm
and on cloudless nights
       when all the stars are
       irresistible in their glory
Remember me
as the place you come home to
Where you can let yourself in
(feel free to put your feet up)
and lay your head back
and let out a sigh that won’t
        be whipped away by ocean-saturated air

I am a lighthouse
in the middle of nowhere
Ships have wrecked themselves
on broken boulders that line my body
like a jealous widow, like a marked territory
Few have made it through.
None have ever stayed.
But my lamp is still burning
and my tower stands tall
and I will guide your journey,
        even if it means pointing over there
        when all I want is for you to stay here.

it hurts it hurts it
hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts
I can't stand breathing.

I loved you like a forgotten dream.
        Searing so vividly into
        the recesses of my cerebrum.
        Like fire.
        Setting my heart aflame with
        gasoline-slicked words
        that felt like a balm on my
        dry skin.

I loved you like the air after it rains.
        Breathe in, breathe out,
        but I could never
        get enough of you.
        If words could cradle
        a broken heart,
        as tangibly as callous-roughed hands
        and bumpy veins running like ivy
        down your arms,
        then drape me in letters
        and knit poems around my shoulders.

I loved you like light in an empty space.
        Because that is what you were.
        And even though you left,
        I still feel your warmth,
        still feel vestiges of heat
        tucked away in my dusty corners.
        Don’t fade.
        Don’t fade.
        Be the night sky that my eyes
        drink in like glassy pools of stars
        for a parched astronomer.
        Be a Category 5 hurricane, where I
        make a home in your center
        using pieces of stolen debris.

I simply loved you, and as much as I’ve tried,
I cannot find an image more beautiful than that.

There are beauties hidden between your ribs
that neither you nor I have thought to dream.
My words flicker and fade.
Your words flicker and fade.
You are beautiful.
It means very much to me.
I’ve seen you moving - there, high above me,
in light and have known
the hidden places of your life.
You think I am only speaking,
only trying to bend these
little words and facts
to some sound that will resonate
for the both of us - I see more clearly than that.
There are oceans in your tremblings -
at night, when you are alone,
the world waits for you,
shivers at your self neglect.
You are lovely.
You are lovely.
We are darling, you and I.
We are all the moments
leading to our ruin and death.
We are life itself - coursing into each other,
knowing what is unknowable,
unholy to speak -
knowing that we are - we are -
and beautifully so.

it is an
infinitely
more beautiful thing
to leave
with the stars
clutched in your palms
than to fade
into trickled away time.