Your hand in mine, twiddling
the silver around my right
ring finger. The point
of the heart faced out,
in hope you'd turn it
toward my wrist. Your mouth
brushes mine. You take it off,
examine the stamp - "925."
Slide it back on, the crown faced up,
the hands mirror ours,
clasped
around my heart. I wonder
if my father knew
what it would mean to me
when he passed it on.
I wonder if he knew
I'd fall for a boy
and this ring would twist my mind in folds,
you're a menace, a silversmith
you solder my mouth shut.

Months later and filled with redundancy
nothing will ever be quiet
We're not missed much these days
we've been gone so long now
Keep wandering on and wondering how
no one ever notices the forearm scars

Tranquil waters flow and wash away
our fervent disdain and distaste
While you leak ideas we breed ideals
and I bleed tweed sweaters
already frayed at the sleeves
threadbarren and disconnected

i used to think you just wanted to warm your hands
but i realized you really do want to watch the world burn instead
what an awful way to have wasted all the love i had

{How many} glow-in-the-dark stars
do you still have on your ceiling?
{More} than you'd like to admit,
am I right?
I only have one left,
but it fills my {nights} like Sirius.
When clouds blanket the stars,
the glow-in-the-darks {must} shine
to keep the monsters away;
to ensure {I spend} my dreams
on hopes rather than fears.
The five pointed stars remind me
I am not {alone}; they are
{staring at} me with such love
that it keeps the monsters
under {my} bed.
I only have one star left,
but its glow makes my {ceiling}
the Milky Way.

i wonder if the doors in the house you grew up in
started slamming themselves to save your father the trouble.
i wonder if you can remember the last time you prayed,
and if you had trouble unfolding your hands.
i wonder if your mother knows
about the collection of hearts you hide in your closet,
i wonder if she could tell mine apart from the rest.
i wonder if your shoes know the reason why
you keep them by the back door and not your bedside.
and sometimes, i wonder
if you ever think about that night when i told you,
you wouldn't need to drink so much if you had me.
but it seems like we only speak when you've got body on your brain,
whiskey in your glass,
your judgement is overcast,
and you know i'm too weak to ignore you.
i learned how to translate your texts
from drunken mess back into english.
i am fluent in apology, but i don't ask you for them anymore.
this is just how it is.
it's not enough for either of us
but ******* it we are not above settling.
so i will ignore her name on your breath,
and you will ignore the fact that this means something to me.
i always thought the first time i kissed you,
it would be on your mouth.
i just wanted to be something warm for you to sink into,
something that could convince you to stay a second night.
but i sneak you out in the early morning,
and you take a piece of my pride with you when you go.
i am left to nurse the hangover from a wine i've never tasted,
wondering how this is possible.
waiting for the next drunk call,
for the next time i get to pretend we are lovers,
the next time i get to live out the fantasy i am most ashamed of.
it is the one in my head where you want me when you're sober too.

- m.f.

The back of my skull
explodes with white light
bone crushing —
the tunnels end. I have no control
of my voice.
Pushing, loud, and sweating,
your arms are warm
and homely,
I just want to absorb you.
Like a mirror hits the ground
earth shattering and sudden
and beautiful and all at once
smashed
into sparkling glints in sunlight —
the shaking, shuddering
bed posts stop creaking
for the sound of heavy breathing
"I think I love you"
I'm not sure if I even said it.

i remember the way love used to taste
it crept up my sternum, crawled up the back of my throat, strangled my tongue, and leaped out of my mouth with a trembling, shaking "i don't know how to feel like this anywhere else so please let me stay"
although there was an eviction notice stuck in between the door and the frame but i didn't open the door, to leave, to see it
and i used to look at people who could find something good and run from it and wonder how they could possibly do that when i ran to every doorstep, pleading for someone to let me in and planting my feet firmly into their ground as soon as they did
there are pieces of myself in every corner of these rooms, every crack in these walls, clumped in bathroom sink drains and i understand now
the more love you give that is unrequited, the less you have to give out again

and i'm only a few drunken, empty i-love-you's away from running dry