I watched you walk away
Like I watched the storm bubble;
Menacing
Like
I couldn't escape the
Inevitable:
It was going to rain

Sometimes I wish the monsters underneath my  bed
would come out and creep and crawl
and scare away the monsters in my head
Because sharp teeth and horns
are nothing compared to my thoughts
a.m.

I swear
           I've never been okay with myself
     grown up
always needing someone else --
like I didn't spend
                 enough time
            tending to my soul
(even when I'll be all alone
                                                                forever)

and it hurts in my bones
                   because no one's
            home
if I don't have a
                          validating
                                 friend

but I don't want to run
             to the guy who wants the pictures
       I don't want to run
             to the people who have no problems
                        kicking me to the curb
     when all I wanna do is help them

      I don't want to run
           to the outside

               the outside
   is where the hurt comes
                                                      in
            and it
                     cuts deep
     because there's no one home
          and the lonely corners
  are screaming
                     for a hand
          and I am wondering
    how many more mornings
                I will wake up
            clutching my own

           until I realize
           I cannot find what I need
           on the outside...

    maybe I'm starting to realize
              
                    the answer  
                 must be within

I lay here each night and close my eyes before I drift off into a deep sleep.
Within those seconds I imagine myself wrapped in our embrace.
I can see our souls intertwining with each other like the vines wrapping around an old tree,
attaching themselves.
I almost feel the connection we would have.
It sends surges throughout my body and I feel as if I'll float into air, into space.

God you make me feel alive.

But my happiness is stolen right away as soon as I open my eyes the next morning.
Maybe it's because my first waking thought was you,
or maybe it was the second,
an image of you grasping his hand instead of mine.

my heart aches.

it's funny to me how love can fade without any sort of warning, how someone can completely shatter every part of your heart.
leaving you, alone, to pick up the pieces with your fragile hands.
A part of me wishes you would come back and help me
because my hands hurt and have started to bleed from the jagged edges you caused.

I lost myself in you.

I feel your lips
Pressing against mine
You running fingertips
Along the contours of my spine

I see the shape
Of your calloused palm
Sprinkled freckles across your nape
The shiver behind your calm

Your scent lingers
In the tangles of my hair
You ensnaring your fingers
Robbing me of air

I hear the rumble
In your haunted chest
Of the nightmares in your slumber
That keep you from rest

But I can’t understand you
& the depth of your sadness
I wonder if I’ll ever know
The taste of your madness

I lit a cigarette
& saw the end in the flame
I haven't told you yet
But it's probably all the same

So I smoked 'till dawn
& thought about pearly gates
Nothing left to dwell on
I need a touch of grace

I lit a cigarette
& I saw how I'd die
I haven't told you yet
But I'm no good with "goodbye"

Do you remember me?
I am fed up, strung on night
And closed in by time.
When I dine with dearest
Friends there is always a place
Set for you, there is always
A story, untold to them,
But not for strangers
Who know even without saying
What you never said to me.
My eyes are cracked dams
Above the flood plains,
My heart is dented brass,
Bent, out of gear and turns,
Mournful, dried, pocked
As rust, tarnished red,
Petrified.
If I look at the diamond moon
I am hooked.
When the flower brushes my calves
The lifting scent caresses, teases,
Rising with my memory of fire and stone.
If I travel to the balm Paris
Of the southern hemisphere
La Belle Époque is wearing your
Dress, the pampas fires and undulates
Like your hair, the Polaris star
Points at me, dreaming
Of you, dreaming,
My jewel, my,
Little moon.