All the planets are falling
Much to my chagrin
From their fishing line and ticky-tacky
Out of the stucco cosmos.

The days are carbon copies
Of last month’s plans:
Work and meet with people who matter
Not enough that I don’t need reminding.

The second bookshelf isn’t quite full
But the knick-knacks look nice
Even the fake succulent
Helps to tie it all together.

A brown lizard on the wall
Still only metal
Extends his tail for a towel,
But all of mine are folded on the floor
Next to the briefcase-looking record player
I hardly use but use enough.

And the TV is in front of my bed
Where I hardly sleep but sleep too much
And now the incense has died
But it will smell nice all day.

When I leave the microcosm will crash
Except for the sticky ticky-tacky stalactite
My burnt out light bulb will be replaced
A star for a new solar system
If any god or goddess thinks to make one
But for now
The planets are falling.

i am not your blooming flower
i don't belong in your
garden kingdom populated
by perennials and ruled by
thorn stemmed rose bushes
where you go
to seek solace and discover
the bursting lightness of
that sensuous pain when
blood erupts from that
thin line where
the white fatty layer threatens
to spill out into the world
and stain your white carnations.

and i never promised you
that it would be pretty
and that one day you would be
able to look at those sensationless slices
and see more than just
an act of scarification
that i asked for
that i endured
but the physical embodiment of
that internal scream that
bounces off the sides of my chest
and shatters the crystalline lattice
that protects my dispassionate heart
from your touch
as soft as the downy feathers
of the spring's children
emerging from their
incubator eggs to
greet the world where they
will fall before they fly
and i will impale myself on
the pyre of their sacrifice.

Your hair is growing longer
as mine grows shorter.

Hair does that.
Sort of.

The remnants
of whatever we shared
fade
as time speeds up,
the length between our visits
and our conversations
growing,
from weeks,
to months,
and possibly years.

We see just snapshots now.
Each greeting
a glimpse
                   into
the change we are no longer affecting
in each other.

I feel a longing
for the days gone by.
And I think you do too.
There's stability there.
All our lives we've screamed and cried and clamored
for change, but
once we have it,
palpable and in our hands,
we don't know what to do.

"I miss you,"
is what I want to say.
But instead I say,
"I love you," and "Good luck,"
knowing that
not even words
can keep us together.

Your hair grows loner,
as mine gets shorter.
Our faces change.
Our mouths learn new words,
our eyes new faces.
Time does that.

(There are galaxies pinwheeling all around me and I can’t sleep.)

there is a malignance
festering within my bones.

night has hypnotized me numb.

it pulls Lake Michigan’s secrets in.

i stare at my cracked wrists.

there is mold in the crevices
of my mind.

i need stardust, to taste the burn of light.

the moon pulls blood from my heart,
shivers from my skin,
a sirens scream from my throat.

Am I okay?

I cry every night,
And can't breathe most days.

I sometimes want to die,
And feel buried by all the lies.

I have a broken heart,
And trust issues.

But also,

I smile at the little things,
And laugh for no reason.

I have hope in my heart,
And light in my eyes.

I am getting stronger,
And I will keep trying.

So:
Am I okay?
No.

Will I be okay?
**Yes

Cold coffee // I spilt cold coffee on my white dress // the morning you told me you were in love with her.

What could I have done better? //  love you harder? // kiss you on the cheek before I left for work each day? // forget the world and lie in bed with you whenever your heart was feeling blue? // which happened a lot towards the end of everything.

'People do fall out of love you know' // yes people fall out of love all the time // but darling, you fell right into her.