i am not a pantry
from which they all select
what they want
when they please

i am the source
i am riverbeds and farmland
i am the richest soil
i am the land to ask
not the land to take

i am a plot being bid for
eyes, auctions, and need
i give only to those who
make a home, lay their stake
promise to treat

i am not a pantry
i am not a lease
i am not an option
i am not one of many
i am not a tycoon’s investment

i am the richest soil
and when i am of only one
i give

without us
the air is missing
your scent now

i don’t need it
I’m guessing at wanting
the fingers tracing theirs
eye contact
plans
that will unmake mine
I have finally seen
eyes that look at me
and see me for me

I don’t need it
saying “no” to new
declining politely
invitations to come inside
sly words through wry smiles

I don’t need it
you give me the up and down
a look I’ve seen more lately

I don’t need it
he wanted more

I don’t need it
they ask for my body
but it is mine
and I will choose

I don’t need it.

it was waves crashing
misting skin
leaving glistening optimism
on a hot day

one hundred and twenty
hours of relief
disconnection in favor
of healing connection

our star gently reaching its hand
in between trees stretching
begging to touch the sky

it was waves crashing
white noise over silence

I heard peace in it.

I sat at the table we sat at two years ago
I had the same terrible airport omelette
with the same soapy airport coffee
it feels like I should be sharing this with you
as if I simply forgot to book your flight

it was the first time someone called us correctly
we sat in the right seats,
on a morning brighter than this

it’s all gray
missing luggage on a cross country flight
I sat in the right seat
and felt warm pretending

sometime I walk by spaces
and the air reminds me how you smell
always in the in-between

I can hear you when it whistles
I drink those moments in,
and I am alive again.

the people who lived here are dead.

sometimes the night nudges me awake
and the air makes its way into my ear
all the while, whispering:
“You really changed everything, didn’t you?”

looking through the box you left behind
(y)our memories
bits that made you up
anarchy, literature
five bracelets, mouse ears
i see my face here.

the Christmas gift I wrote you
when I had no money left
but you knew I spent it all
our first holiday

a picture of us in paradise
facing your namesake
two sith and I
looking at you with innocence
honest, earnest love

left behind with your handwriting
"Office and Important Things to Keep"