I woke beside
a pitch black crust
like the dust
permeating veins.

I sat upon colidascope concrete
until morning
brought birds
to carry my neck
back to you.

I collapsed onto the shore
and cried all night
because I finally outran my shadow
and the seaside
refused to share.

I pounded my fists
into the sockets
holding your eyes.
They're missing,
stolen perhaps
by another set of cheekbones.

I scraped the sky
with nails like coal,
leaving streaks of blood
across east Ohio.

I sat on the ceiling
as the fingertips of July
stretched my mind
away from fire.

Does she rub your shoulders?
I hope she does.
I really do.

Days were like honey, even sweeter than golden suns
you were laughing in rainbows - colorfully ever undone
dancing in meadows, and mornings
to bloom again

Your eyes of silver spun light, did shine
flashes of soul, glowing pieces of amber nights
Voices of angels sang you to sleep in peace

Remembering all the places you've ever felt love
with letters in boxes you've looked upon

Days are just pages, they burn into ashes that blow in the wind
all of these days, where do they
begin and end?

You are the jagged pill I dry swallow
A time released capsule of miniature razor blades
cutting my throat ever so intricately
Like a surgeon with shaking hands  
arrogantly carving your name in my vocal folds
so every weezing breath I breathe makes your sound

You are the Rorschach patterns on my skin
the blackest blues and deepest purples
from the night you forced yourself in
telling me you loved me
that this is how love begins
My body a canvas for the darkest hues
and my white sheets a delicate masterpiece
for your intricate artistry

You are the shards of shattered glass
fallen from the mirror now faced
with one thousand mosaic reflections
of a face I couldn't tell you belonging to whom
Maybe you know her?
They're wedged in my knuckles
as the light reflects off of them
making my hands look like diamonds
as close to perfection as I've ever come
to seeing reflected in any part of me

You are the burning end of a Marlboro Red
a bad habit I took up because you won't leave my head
Thoughts of you pour through me daily like hot lead

You are the last midnight
You are the last cold sweat
You are the last nightmare
You are my last regret
You are dead

I’m going through withdrawals. How awful it is to have to keep yourself from speaking to someone because you know if they wanted to speak to you, they would. I’m so deeply rooted in the sand that no waves that crash on land could overturn me. Your footprints are leading away from me, you are moving further and further down the shoreline, your outline growing smaller, smaller, smaller, blending in with the horizon where the sun is setting in lovely shades of red. I do not fear that you will not be loved, because even now I see how the birds adoringly sing your name. I fear the drops of saltwater that fall down my face each solemn night will one day be able to collect into ocean of their own. I fear the birds will be able to love you better than I have. I fear that this titanic amount of heaviness weighing on my heart will be ever-present. Your name is written in the clouds, and I cannot escape it, for no matter how far I run, I can never escape the sky. When I look up, there it is and so are you.

A fawn pounds
dewy ground
fleeting feet
defeat deamons
made of concrete
and plaster
running faster
escaping gaping
holes in ozone
cell phone rings
birds singing
silence swallows
kin from within
the womb and crust
inside the skin
of earth below
moving slow
tectonic plates
sway
the arms of the moon
cocoon fragile fibers
from trees and leaves
but the sun set again
like last Tuesday
and the winter before
marked with blood
on the door
moving on
shaking sun
the sea will always
reach the shore
and move on