there is a house
a house down a long road
in plain sight yet transparent to some
the pale, tall, dried grass
makes a sound like children whispering
the paint on the exterior is peeling
coming off in strips that curl and twist
the structure seems to strain under itself
like it had taken a breath to hold
while driving through a tunnel
orange lights streaking past
leaving a stained glass window-like
luminescence on your face
breathing out when the darkness fades behind you
the house sighs and settles and sinks
the gutter is falling apart
days when it rains
make the roof cave in a little more
the broken windows pull you
like empty, sunken eyes
not conveying emotion
letting you feel what you will
they will get under your skin and stay there for weeks
the stairs will creak uncomfortably under your weight
the brass doorknob is cold and rusted
the door swings open to reveal
abandonment.
dusty furniture
pictures still on the wall
the faucet for the kitchen sink still dripping
blending in with the sound of the rain falling off the roof
hitting the edges of broken flowerpots outside
nothing has grown in them for years
ivy is growing through the window
reclaiming the place life once thrived in
you cannot bring yourself to go upstairs
somehow you already know there will be an empty rocking chair
broken china dolls
and musty stuffed toys in one room
and empty pill bottles, *** bottles,
and a sinister swaying rope
hanging from the ceiling of another.
your eyes linger up the steps a moment longer
hesitating,
you come back to reality
turn and walk out
stepping on the cracks in the hardwood floor
walking down the steps
carefully
and leaving the house behind
kicking up dust as you walk down the driveway
you’re never sure if it was ever really there
you haven’t been able to find it since
you always wished you’d gone upstairs
but this house is not your home
it is not anyone’s
you didn't look back.

We grew up
much faster
then we thought we would

I lived a life through your pockets
Where you kept your other secrets
And crippling fear of loud voices in quiet classrooms

I was simply a secret
Someone to think of in passing, never to truly know
I hung on to every word you ever whispered to me

I think coffee smells like cigarettes
And I think cigarettes smell like far-off summers

I never told a soul about the rosary playing in your mother's car (until now)
You kissed me on the night when I said "you outstep them all"

But now everyone knows too much
And I'm all out of blood to bleed
My heart is throbbing out of tune
Aching in extraordinary anger

For 10 months, I've been holding up
a pitcher of affections and feelings that
you never knew it had your name on it.
It kept filling and filling, and no matter
how much I fill it, I couldn't give you taste
because it might disappoint you.

At some point, I gave you a sample
and you seemed to enjoy the sweetness
but I was wondering if it was too sweet
so I couldn't give you everything

There was a time it turned out bitter
maybe, because you sought other pitchers
but it still had a sweet after taste

I try to make it a sweet - sour taste
so that it gives you "kilig" affixes
Still, I couldn't reach for that taste
so I still couldn't give you that pitcher

But as unprepared as I could be
you demanded my pitcher
and I poured everything in your cup..

I wasn't sure if I didn't have enough
to fill your cup, or that your cup wasn't ready
to take in all that it contains....
Maybe, your cup was too small or
There was too much in my pitcher