someone's in the next room over
having *** while we
are weeping
what a way to mark the occasion
the day my fingers found a wound
you let someone else doctor
it's upsetting see
the bible in drawer next to us
the way our hands still
fit together
like the torn halves
of a love letter
the way you got
all dressed up like the rain
and how we couldn't tell
the difference in the shower
it was the longest hour and a half
spent crying
the hot water wouldn't give up
so why should we
right?
even though it was scalding
neither of us touched the ****
we knew this was supposed to hurt
your hair
a black mess against my shoulder
my fingers
oil in the vinegar of your hands
our bodies
the great divide
all the sobbing
a river runs through it
without the courage
to carry or **** us
so we step out
and drip dry
down to a mute breakfast
composed of quiet
and last nights liquor
as we came back in
there were people in our room
at first i thought them detectives
dissecting things
to see who had died here
i had forgotten this
was a hotel
and they were only
cleaning up after us
i wanted to stop them
plead
that the sheets were still perfect
that if they clean the bathroom
no one will know
what happened here
someone has to remember
"please
i know
these cigarette burns
by name
i will bury the faucet
let me take the tub
i don't care how
if i have to
i will drag it home by hand"

i'm using the light to cast shadows upon your  body
shadows that tell us a story
of when i was 3 years old and my father left
of when i was 13 years old had an empty hole inside my chest
of when i was 16 years old and just ******* dramatic
of when i am 19 years old and just ******* sarcastic
i'm using the light to cast shadows upon your body
i'm trying to tell you that i am more than sorry -
i'm a sad case of sore eyes
wrapped in these cast shadows
hoping that this isn't something you will realize
and that all i ever wanted was a happy ending to my shadow stories

weird how something so impermanent
can feel so permanent
weird how laying in bed all day can be so tiring
weird how the afternoon was made for naps
weird how the rise and fall of your chest
can make the ocean feel jealous of such flawless movement
weird how these memories still remain after years of abandonment
weird how we never knew we'd end up here
weird how the winter winds brought me to tears
weird how you are everything and nothing
weird how i now have nothing

you're in my closet
you're next to my old ballet shoes
you're not graceful
and neither was i
you slipped through my fingers
so clumisly
with such force
you never really knew
how powerful you really were
you get so moved
you begin you move other people
me towards you
you away from me
we sit in silence now
you don't say rainy day thoughts
you just
tell me the same things
like: yeah, you look good today
but i never look good today
because there's this weight in my chest
you're in my chest
you're in my closet
you're in my past
with my old ballet shoes

there's nothing wrong with a little inspiration
put the blindfold on
and you're off to your new destination
you close your eyes and feel the vibrations
when you're on your knees and need a little motivation
baby let me be it

there's nothing wrong with a little medication
they send you home with a bottle
and you try to escape the depression
when you're alone in bed and want the temptation -
baby let me be it

there's nothing wrong with a little obsession
turn the lights out and let me give you some affection
attention, attention,
all you need is some protection -
baby let me be it

you are eighteen and you're in love
with a boy who hates his birthday.
you don't know it yet,
but the world gets so much bigger than the back of his car.
you think he needs you to be happy and so does he
but both of you are wrong.
it'll take you almost a year to stop crying.
and then you don't talk for another three
and when you finally do,
he thinks he still knows you,
but your heart is heavier than it was then.
and you **** him because you're lonely
but it isn't the same.
neither of you can fake love.
at least he still makes you laugh.
you'll pretend it's enough
because at least he's a body.
at least you're not by yourself.
at least you're alive
and you're good at *******.
because bodies are distractions
from the things we hide inside them.
you have him inside you
and he wants to gut you of your ugly, your sad.
he scrambles for an excuse not to stay the night
and you laugh.
you know what this is and how it goes
and you both love someone else.
you swear you won't **** him again
but you do anyway because you're still lonely
and you like the way his hands fit around your neck.
you **** him because it's good for your art
and you get bored of your own hands on your body
and you're fine with letting him feel useful.
and you think about when you were sixteen
and how *** was supposed to be special
and it makes you cry
because you're not who you wanted to be.
it makes you cry, because the world got so much bigger
after you left the backseat of his car.
the world is so big and you don't know
how it ended up on your shoulders.
you would have died for him.
you have been ready to die for every person you have ever loved.
you have dreams where he dies
and you can't save him.
you have dreams where people die
and you can't save them
and you're the one who tied your hands.
your mangled heart and all its bleeding.
nobody asked you to die.
what good is all the love in your chest
if you don't leave any for yourself?

- m.f.