I.
I lodged my soul
Into the tube of lipstick
I left at your house
Hidden beneath
The jeans and white blouse
I casually drowned
In careful disarray,
And I’ll silently pray
That you find it nestled
Next to the dusty chest
Of old love letters you’ve compiled
From people not me–
I’ll lay on your lips
To your ignorant bliss
Long after I’m gone
And we’ll have moved on
And you’ll smile at the
Luck you had at finding the perfect match
To your skin tone:
Red as sin
Against white like bone.

You’ll taste me as fast as you’ll forget me.

II.
I pressed my lips
Against your sweater
And murmured thoughts and
Recited letters
I’ve written in secret
And I whispered my heart
Into the stitches and seams
Until the fabric marked
Everything I felt but couldn’t say.
When mere words got in the way.
And I inhaled
The cigarette smoke
Til it made me choke
Like the night we stayed up
And star gazed and talked
And you apologized when
I sputtered and coughed –
But you should know, and I’ll tell you
Through my inconsistencies, I do
Not care if your lungs are permanently filled
With toxic fumes that seal your doom –
Poison is how I remember you.

But I’m not sure how you’ll remember me.

III.
I stayed up late, long after you fell
Asleep, and your chest rhythmically swelled
And collapsed with your breathing.
I watched you like a lover is wont
To do, like the stories I read
Told me to do,
Pressed between pages
Highlighted and dog-eared
Like an anxious student’s textbook.
I slipped out of bed
With your letters and your sweater
And I padded to the window
To read them even better
And I remembered that night
You joked about love
And forever, when you said pointedly:
‘My love is only as eternal as me’.
I pressed my lips
To your faded logo sweater
The one you’ll someday wear
When you meet someone better
And I whispered those
Three little words
But not exactly the three
That I really mean:
‘Don’t forget me’.

I wonder how long it took you to realize I was gone.

IV.
My love is only
As eternal as
Me.

I.
Dear Mom,
We sat around
A table for Grace
And lent ourselves none
When you fell from it.
Now when I stray
To thoughts of God
I always come back
To nothing at all.

II.
Dear Dad,
Congratulations:
There’s nothing else to say
Except that you were wrong
In every
Single
Way.

III.
Dear Sister,
Be ugly.
Coat the room in
Feeling
That bubbles and congeals
On the walls and
Beneath your nails
As you dig yourself out of
Other people’s graves
That would become yours
In time.

IV.
Dear Self,
Stop hating yourself.
You were the one
That cleaned up the blood
And wiped the tears
That fell from stinging eyes
That allowed the flowers to bloom
Around you.
You are not the seed
Of broken bottles and promises
But you will somehow
Grow from it.

In my head
I imagine the future to be
Lipsticks lined on a marble counter
According to color and mood
And clothes warm from the dryer
Because they didn’t cool in the car
And heartbeats under bedsheets
Imported from Milan
Where no clothes are scattered
Because we always remember
To hang them, properly,
(The way we’re supposed to).
And in my head
You wear a sweater
And I brew tea
In an electric kettle
On a spotless counter
In a kitchen scrubbed clean
Except on the stove
Where a smudge of chocolate
Here and                             there
Reminds us of
The night before
And you see me clearly
With curious eyes
And I see you exactly as I did
When we first met
On our third date
When you asked me
If I would, please, finish your plate.
And I imagine the future
And I adore the order
The absence of terrifying smudges
Of chaos
Against a marble façade of
Rosy (or pink. or sparkle.) perfection.
I crave the
Nights spread over soft, warm sheets
That I call mine
And warm lips that wake me
Only when the sun is just right
So I see the mischievous sparkle
In your half-closed eyes
Before you tickle me awake.
And in my head
I long for this,
For the perfection of a
Practiced hand.
I want to build myself
Like my mind builds worlds
With one smooth stroke at a time.

But I do admit
As I lay in jersey sheets
That I do quite like
The way the soft lamplight
Falls over my cluttered bedspread
And how my books are stacked
One
Two
Three
Against my bookshelf
Rather than inside it
(The way it’s supposed to.)
And I am fond
Of the sheer lavender cloth
Thrown haphazardly on the lampshade
And tied with a purple cord
From a graduation I can’t clearly remember
And have every desire to completely forget.
And I will rise
On an overcast day
To the cold lips of sea air
On sheets made from
Recycled materials
And I will stand on aching bones and trod
With a limp and a frown
To the stovetop kettle
And I will brew tea
To the gentle hum of the fridge
That was here when I moved in
And I will be wearing
A robe with no cord
And a face with no grin
But I will look to the sky
And see the sun promised in the
Nebulous lining of the silver clouds above
And I will smile and
Stretch my arms
And see myself clearly
With selfish, curious eyes
Amid the ***** pots and pans and I
Will find peace
In chaos.

My father used to say
Only the special ones succeed
So I sang the loudest
And the music teacher heard me
And I landed the solo.
And my mom videotaped it
And cried the whole way through
And everyone cried
Even me
Especially when I realized
How proud they were
And how happy that made me feel
And those were the days
Of running on the playground
And hitting my head
And being rushed to the nurse
And my father said
Well, that’s what happens
When children play around.

My mother used to say
I was born to be a star
So I sang the loudest
And wrote the fastest
And dreamed the biggest
And wrote a book
And joined the band
And my mother told me
She was my biggest fan.
And she hugged me tight
And told me she was right
And even when the flute gave me a headache
I kept playing
And playing
And playing.

When I was fifteen
I wrote poetry
In the dead of night
Inspired by
Cruel words exchanged below
Fueled by alcohol
And a daughter’s disgust
But sometimes
When I disappeared
Into the black-and-white world
Of pen and parchment
My sister would drag me out
With her new red car
That would later be repossessed
Because mother forgot she had bills
And we would eat ice cream
And never talk about what happened
To anyone who mattered
Because that’s what happens
When children play along
And even though the nights
Kept me awake and kept me
In and out of doctor’s offices
I would just smile and play it off
And kept playing
And playing
And playing.

My father used to say
Life ***** and then you die
And I never believed him
Because he also used to say
We were the only reason
They survived this long
But then one day
In a fit of rage
He leveled his gaze
And told my sister
He would choose her over us
And that was the day
I decided I believed him
So I threw away my book
And I forgot about the flute
And I sang quietly
And I lost my smile
Hidden among the pages
Smeared with running ink
Because I am an adult now
And playing is for children.