I’m happy you found someone
That draws blue flowers on your
Porcelain every night
You leave your lip stick
On his night stand and
Your underwear on his bed
You walk to him like a horizon
like the floor is sand
like you leave foot prints
telling me where you are
just so you could see what
I would do
It’s been a month.
I've been traveling through Montana
It’s cold here, the snow is piercing
And the ice never melts
I’m at St. Mary trying to find
Where the lake touches the mountains
Some time before lunch
Realizing how you found
The world in-between his shoulders
And a history in-between mine

I want a love so furious
that I wake up to her
kissing the wounds she
gave me last night
I want to be decorated
with hickeys
tattooed with bite marks
I want to feel what actual
love feels like.
I want to wake up to the sun rising
outlining her body, highlighting her cheeks
smiling.
I want to wake up with post traumatic stress disorder
from the night before
and the aftertaste of her still
lingering in my mouth

We talked about it once
Near the window
With the broken frame
Underneath a night
Covered in cotton

We talked about it until
We couldn't talk anymore
Until we ran out of adjectives
To describe it and verbs to unleash it
Until our tongues were dry
From the saltwater pouring out from
Ourselves

We talked about the fire
You wish you could have
Been anywhere else in the world
But even then, you felt like
It would have followed you

So we kept talking about it
About the people without skin
And the people with too much
About how easy it was for you
To do it
That much iron in your hands
“I had to do it” You said

I wanted you to stop talking then
I stared at where your legs should be
Now stumps like deforestation
You knew too well what that meant
With your shattering eyes

You kept talking in your wheelchair
Hands brutal like mountains
Kept talking about that girl
And how easy it was for you
How you did it with only a couple
Of matches
And a gallon of gasoline

Hang your bones
In my closet
While I melt my skin
On to terracotta warriors
So I can learn
How to stand centuries for you

Dust off our ash covered knees,
We’ve waited long enough
Pierce your ancient stone temple
With eroding fingers
I’ll excavate your
Porcelain viscera
And rearrange it
With my tongue

I have known you
Sitting beautifully
With your legs crossed
Beside the shelves
Reading Catcher
Your hair bright as the book cover

I have known you
Stepping out in day light
With blackness
The white flowers in the air
Fail to resist your skirt

I have known you
Before standing shirtless
In my door way
Whispering drugs when we sleep

I have known you
Far away in the distance
Hair fading orange explosion
Catches me
I surrender like a moth

I have known you
Past the bus stops
And greyhounds
Driving in your Sedan
Singing December

I have known you
Skin as white and bright
As thunder clouds
Pink, as I press my fingers
Against your stomach

I have known you
Swimming in the nighttime
Walking on boats
Heading for the coast
With a hand full of smooth pebbles

I have known you
Deep by the riverside
Painstakingly trying
To drown your fourteen

I have known you
Naked in the night
Laying on the floor
Beside the shelves
Waiting for a fix

I have known you
Seen you catch rainfall
With your tongue
You are use
To tasting tears

I have known you
Running across
The dim valley
Eyes towards the cactus
Toes in the soil
Feeling California  

I have known you
Caught you staring
At the foreboding sunrise
Wishing for it to slow down

I have known you
The color of scarlet
Apples in the summer
Fresh blood of war
On your hair
That fire grows
With each breeze

I have known you
Beneath the avalanches
Near Everest
Above the clouds
Near the Eiffel

I have known you
But I cannot find you

I want you to scar my back
leave wounds deeper than
the ones they gave me back
In high school
Bite me in places where
she could only kiss me
because she couldn’t
handle what was underneath
I want to feel the crushing
weight of you pressuring my skin
to touch my bones
every place where you and I meet
There’s a moon begging the sun
For a solar eclipse

Poet, be not afraid.
There are far worse things than
Bad poetry.

Keep writing; like a child keeps
Drawing with the purest of
Disregards to likeness.

The more stones you turn, the more
Gems you produce.

The more ink you rain,
The more gracious your written
Children grow.

All flexing builds muscle.

Rough bricks form castles.

Even Dalì carved canvases to shreds
And started anew
Not caring too much.
Not caring

Too much
To keep painting.