Do I whisper
across your thoughts
like sheets,
pulled over lovers’ bodies?
Or is that too intimate?
And it’s more like
water from the faucet
rushing into yesterday’s cold coffee?
Or do I pad across your mind
like bare feet in an empty house?
Or to I creak as a ghostly reminder
of every door
you never opened for me?
Do I hit you like oncoming traffic,
crushing your thoughts like leaves underfoot?
Or am I sawing at your sanity
like a two-man saw to a redwood?
Or do I flatter myself,
thinking I grace your thoughts at all?

the ceiling
is no place to hide
your secrets or your woes
because on those nights
when sleep eludes you
you’ll sigh
and roll to your back
only to see your fears
watching you from the shadows
the floor
is no place either
for with every step
you’ll stumble
yet again
over past woes
and forgotten secrets
Neither
should you hide your fears
in the curves of your lover
for you’ll see your nightmares
in the bow of their lips
and the crooks of their elbows
as they try to love you
like you need
So hide
your woes
your fears
your nightmares
your secrets
and your plights
Amongst the mail of the corner letterbox
and the pages of library books
and the dial-tones of payphones
where they will lay
or hang
in the air of the lonely and forgotten
And there, in such no man’s lands
they can no longer
cause you grief

I'm getting bad again
and I want to blame you
but  
you can't even be here
for that.

you fling the passenger door open
and f
         a
            l
              l
                 into the seat
people are dumb
no fun? i smile
sigh, i could spend all day
with you
I blink at him
and he just smiles
like he can feel my heart
pounding like a drum
so i just start the car

when you're
here
nothing seems
as bad
it's not that
skies are bluer
its just the
gray doesn't seem
so sad

tears make sense
they're that extra rinse
that your brain can't get to
they're that admission of fear
you didn't think you'd clung to
they're the rain
that grows the seeds of madness
they're the moon
that pulls in the tides of our own sorrows
they make sense
but oh how i wish
they wouldn't come

girls all hear
about exploited bodies
respected bodies
abused bodies
but it's 3am
and you cling to me
I always thought
the helpless
should be held
not hold
but it's 3am
and you cling to me
arms around my waist
and i'm not respected or abused
i'm a comfort

i'm sad
i'm numb
i'm consumed
i get up
and i feel worse than before
i'm not drowning
just to firmly rooted
in my own melancholy
that i can't imagine
moving

sometimes it's hard
to remember
that even if you
know someone
you don't
you only see
exactly what you
perceive them to be
and not as they are
to themselves
when it's dark
and the door is shut
in those ungodly hours
of the night
that remind us who
we really are

We go out, but
we're not going out
if that makes any sense
but you sign i love you
as your signature at the store
you miss me
you don't want to make me
do anything i don't want to
I go for my wallet an you
say *stop being weird and
look me right in the eye
So you love me
and we'll leave it at that

Next time don't panic
i do that enough on my own
Next time say yes earlier
what what what isn't a response
Next time be gentle
i frighten easily

interesting
i thought it was
interesting
or?
it's interesting.
it's thought provoking?
it's interesting.
it's weird?
it's interesting.
it's important to someone but you don't care?
it's still interesting.
So,
when you said
you're interesting
am i thought provoking?
weird?
comical?
appeased?
puzzling?
I'm entirely unsure, so
calling me interesting
well,
it didn't mean much

i don't have bad days
i have hard days
i have long days
i have numbing days

i don't have good days
i have smiling days
i have loving days
i have butterfly days

but they're *mine

Does it make me a *****
that I don't care?
You left me alone
when I needed you to be there.
So now that you need me,
I want to leave you
alone too.
But I can't,
I guess my inner ***** isn't
as bad as I thought she was.
But, even she's
a better person than you.

Is it rude to ask
if someone loves you?
I want to
No, need to,
know if you love me.
Cause I know I love you
and your songs and
your laugh and
that look that turns my insides over.
And I want to ask you,
and tell you.
But first, I need to know
Is it rude to ask
if someone loves you.

They* wonder why I am
so safe around them,
but willing around *you.
I realized I feel safer,
and happier too,
with  you.
It lets me wander,
and be out of the blue,
feeling safer
here and there with you.

Why, I don't understand.
Why, me of all people?
Because.
I tilt my head.
you're interesting.
I'm interesting?
But I stay quiet
as he chokes on the words,
the words we don't say,
won't say.
Shut Up.*
He just smiles;
He's contagious.
I smile,
shove him gently
And let it go.

Remember the staring?
Tense, but not unpleasant.
Remember the silence?
awkward, and shy.
Remember the laughing?
bubbly, and surprised.
Remember the shock?
at our growing relation.
I do.
Almost perfectly
As perfectly as we were
*so really not at all.

Everything was right before,
but lonesome after.
One of us is always leaving.
We'd fall asleep together.
and wake up alone.
Lets just say:
If it's love,
we are each in love alone.