last time we talked, we
said nothing of importance -
happy birthday wish
unclench your hand when you sleep, my love.
you will feel better in the morning.
why is it always
her you find yourself wanting
when I’m not around
i keep looking for excuses to get upset.
and i wish i could stop finding them.
I feel off again.
I don’t feel myself, and
I don’t feel
Our selves are in cycles that rapidly change in the same way as my episodes.
Drunk with jealousy, I take another sip
And when I throw up, you catch it
My timing is always off
He knows this much is true.
I crept behind you and shoved you off
Ignored the feelings inside you.
Let’s go back a little while.
And remember our kindness too.
We always find the rope snaking back.
I’ve treated you so cruel.
The date’s creeping up.
Scraping the corners of my thoughts,
Like the knife you used for butter
You gave me so much.
In one squeeze of your hand,
In a few words that escaped your aching throat,
In my entire life, you gave to me
You did all you could.
We did all we could.
I should have done more.
It seems to me that time is slipping;
Moving quickly and it’s already
Have I ever felt time the way I felt you.
Will I grasp the waste of the winding clock?
Will I consume it by train of thought?
Day in. Day out.
Queue the violins.
It’s been a long time since I’ve slept alone in the winter.
It makes me miss the snow.
And the freezing feet that touched my legs.
But you were still warm.
And so was I.
A familiar way the light shines through blinds.
A familiar way I say “I miss you” every night.
Whatever will be, will be.
It finds me first
In the space beneath the lungs
A rapidly cycling movement
Trickles down, seeps like a sponge
The pressure lifts my breath up now
The feeling I have punches my gut,
And claws its way straight to the mind.
I wish what I’d found weren’t so devastating.
I wish I didn’t find it this time.
The musty smell fills my nostrils and I am
Lines don’t go where they belong and the paint won’t dry.
I love the brush like I love the paint.
Solemnly and with respect.
Smoothness rounds my movements
Shakiness fills my hands.
I want to feel how the oil feels
But what remains of me is the canvas.
Blank and achingly abismal.
It’s endless summer
Fall won’t continue the trend
Come winter he weeps
When I was 12, you saved me from the bees
That left my legs swollen, bites around my knees
The hose that held the nest was green
And you were tired
Ice cubes and baking soda
The venom can seep out now
But still, I grieve
Loss fills the stings.
Drained from my body
I ache for your laugh
And hairy kisses on my head from your mustache
I named a star for you.
To this day, it shines
I wish you could see it.
I am spoiled like curdled milk
Lost and cold in the fridge
When the light is off, and no one opens it
Sticky and embarrassing, I slide through
The cap is caked on
The fill, is
A ritual of being forgotten
I am the mold in your fridge
The sickness in your stomach
And when you buy more
I’ll be gone
— The End —