I've written the word "you" countless times
to represent countless people
on countless pages
as I've aged I've become unable to place
exactly which "you"
belonged to who
because
Y
O
U
was easier to write down
than the names of the subjects
I knew I shouldn't be proud of

they all blur together
the faces
the letters
the shame I ignored
the love that I forced
the chapters in my life
I was too ashamed to identify
but one thing is clear
through all the past-poetry-opaqueness:

I know I'll never struggle to place
the word for the sound of rain
the laugh that sounds like a hearth
the effortless extemporization
the sound of your beating heart

June.

even the four letters of your own name
could never do justice
to the beauty of your being
that no word can capture
no dialect, no vernacular
you are more complex
than language
than pen on paper
and that is why I love writing about you
June,
I know I'll never get it right
but *******
do I want to try.

I met you
I love you
I'm ******
I haven't had enough
I'm ******
I'll never grow tired of you
I'm ******
I'll never leave
unless you want me to
I'm ******
I love you
I'm ******
you love me right back,
I'm ******
I think of a future with you
****.

I'd accepted this loneliness by calling it independence
in pathetic attempts to paint my vices gold
while wading through this tar of a life
with lightless eyes and a stomach full of stones

I never thought to fathom the day
where the filth clouding my pools of vision
would settle and reveal clear lucidity
and open my eyes like finding religion

feeling the stones in my stomach turn into birds
I'm tearing out of and shedding this skin
being washed clean by the autumn rain and feeling
the weight of insecurity and bitterness change

I used to see only a pale, sickly grey
never knowing the privilege of off-white
then you come up to me with your still, wild waters
and reflect the whole ******* sky

don't be mad
don't be mad
you knew this was coming
you knew this would happen
stop crying
stop shaking
you could tell from the start
you knew from the beginning
inhale
exhale
you called it
you told me so
don't be mad
don't be mad*
you see her name
you shatter in her hands

I unfolded myself today.

it felt like pulling apart a paper crane's wings

and flattening out the paper

to see the creases and folds and torn corners.

they were always there

but I couldn't see them.

fold the crane back up again

it's not standing nearly as tall

I know it's better to leave things be

but my weakness is my curiosity

I just wanted to know what I was inside

but now the crane's thin, paper wings

are much too crooked to fly

skin pulled taut
by stretching fingers
veins darken beneath olive skin
fingers pull knuckles pull tendons
strings seem to stretch from fingertips to shoulder
movement like puppetry
dry nails break and peel
from bending backwards
caused by coal ropes
you twitch
reach
move
but
not on your own
you are not your own
I am not my own

I'm the cup
floating [on the surface of the water]
being pushed down
[I] keep coming up
but a cup can only go so deep
until it starts to [fill up and sink]
[now I'm] overflowing and too heavy
too full [too full]
to float

sometimes
my life feels like chaos
I can't feel my body
I can't hear my own thoughts
and I come back to myself in horror
because I've lost it all

life works slowly
everything feels like a puzzle
being put together
I'm beginning to feel more complete
I'm beginning to see myself clearer
seeing myself as a work of art
a human being
not a human doing

clarity comes to me
like a gust of wind
rushing through my hair

like being in the ocean
and swimming towards the sky
my lungs have hurt
from holding my breath for so long
but I see the light through the surface of the water
and you can bet your *** that when I reach the top
I'll take the grandest gasp of air
anyone has ever taken in
and it will be beautiful
I'll laugh like a child
I'll laugh beautiful exhaustion
I'll laugh because I will feel
I'll laugh because I will feel so alive
I'll laugh because I'm glad I am

I haven't weighed myself, cut myself, wrote a letter, starved, hid under the covers, or detached from the people I love
in about a month
and change feels good
but soon if I don't do something
I'll be back where I started
being tossed around like a rag doll by god, the universe, or whoever the **** is in control
and my stitches will come undone, my black button eyes will start to fall out, and I'll be left under the bed with no life left in me

a year ago
you were probably still calling me baby
and saying goodnight a stupid number of times

+a month
and I was either ignoring your calls
or picking up with a flat monotone voice where there used to be color

somehow
within 365 days our roles reversed
you don't seem to care and I seem to care too **** much

and today
I checked my phone every thirty seconds
and I realized I probably made you feel like this for a long time

and I know now
I don't deserve your kindness
and when you reassure me I do
I can't stop thinking about the fact that I hurt you

It's too late to try again
because now I'm no where near good enough for you
I'd just be another girl you regret and another memory to forget

but I wish I could go back
and tell myself to not let you go
to show myself the ugly person I became when I left

I wish I had
blue hair
your hand to hold
and my innocence again

but all I have
is black
and white
and loneliness and regret
for letting myself become this

I wanted you to talk to me and convince me
you think everything is always in my head
I want you to tell me you aren't going anywhere

over
and over
and over and over
and over and over and over
and over and over and over and over

I want you back
I want myself back
but this is just how it goes sometimes

everything was going fine
then suddenly everything in my mind
became a mess of cluttered thoughts
and worries
and regrets
and insecurities
and everything I wanted to forget
flooded my head
and overflowed onto everyone in my life
now we're all just soaking wet
and drowning in this *******

"what do you think I should do?"
you looked in between your fingers and said to me
don’t be her cigarette
don’t let her light you up when there’s nothing to do and
put you out once she’s bored.
don’t be the aftertaste of chemicals in her mouth.
don’t be the black **** she spits onto the sidewalk.
don’t be convenient.
don’t be one of twenty in a pack of Marlboros.
so I left her.

you always knew what to say.
I never would have guessed that two months later
I would call you crying to say goodbye
hoping you would at least make a half assed attempt to care
with my phone in my left hand
and a handful of pills overflowing in my shaking right,
I never could have guessed you would’ve answered
with a complaint about how I woke you up.

I landed in the E.R.
like a skydiver lands in the ocean—
fumbling to unbuckle yourself from the parachute
sinking heavy in the salt water
being dragged down by the very fabric that was supposed to save me
trying to claw your way back up to the surface
like desperately clawing at the ceiling of your coffin
like lungs about to burst
like vision blurred
I was drowning
the thing that was supposed to save me
sunk me.
I sat under the florescent lights
that first night
wondering if you had called back
knowing you hadn’t
the whole week I picked at the white bracelet on my wrist
“female, 5’6”, 115 pounds, INPATIENT.”
While wondering if you cared
but knowing you don’t
But hoping you did
because it’s hard to hear for months the
“I’m not going anywhere
I love you
I’m right here
Call whenever you need it
at 3 in the morning or at 3 pm
you don’t need a reason to call if you
want to call just to hear my voice call.
we have something special
and I hope we never loose it
you’re my best friend
I was meant to have met you”—
*******.
You were my parachute.

The message I had from you
when I got discharged from the psych ward was:
“I have a lot going on and won’t be able to reply much.”

You always know what to say.

You pulled me under
you, heavy fabric
you, life-saving-invention
you, malfunctioned *******.
you—chain-smoker.
I have been one of twenty in her pack of Marlboros.
And now I’m one of twelve in your pack of Camels.

I've since quit smoking.

My whole life
Is an ellipsis
Dot dot dot
Waiting,
Expecting,
Trailing off
Leaving people wondering
Where that breath would've taken you
If only the breather wasn't dazed and confused.

For the last few days
The sunsets have been incredible
I've taken too many pictures
And held my breath too much
Thinking if I exhaled
The reds and yellows
Would fall like rain
Back behind the mountains
The last time we spoke
I was preoccupied
By counting clouds and colors,
So distracted that I
Didn't understand
That our sunset
Was turning to a storm
The reds were no longer lovely
But smothering and smoldering
The yellows turned to the color
Of bruises on skinned knees
The dark clouds rumbled in the distance
And shook the bed I was lying in
With my pillow over my head
Trying to drown the noise
I held my breath
For a different reason
For a different sunset
For far too long
And when I let it go
The storm didn't let up
And lightning struck my back bone
Sending electricity
Through my spine
Now I have been numbed
By our beautiful
horrible
sky.

I could run forever
Past this damaged dry wall
I've got it all planned out
Down to the last phone call

Train jumping or hitch hiking
By car or by plane
I've got to get away from these people
Before I go any more insane

I've been wishing for a solace
And to not be selfish or cold
I can fix all these little things
But my home I can't control

I will run forever
stop when I'm as far as I could get
Without coming back around
And then some

This town is ******* the blood from my veins.

black boots caked
with mud and sand
fall over frozen grass
noses all red
and hands all numb
breathing into the bare trees
the ground littered with leaves
looking up into the veiny branches
a pale yellow ray of light
gently shines through dark hair
like a whisper in the night
birds on wires
silhouettes of change
reaching
holding
pouring light
onto a different life
inhale the sunrise at 6am
exhale the love in between