I never believed in a god.

I've never even touched a page of the bible until I saw heaven the day I looked into your eyes. Now I have scars and color on my knees from kneeling on holy ground for too long pretending to beg for forgiveness, pretending to beg for absolution when all I'm begging is for you to come back.

Last year in physics class we talked about the theory of duality. Now I understand why the moment you showed me heaven, my skin anticipated the scorching heat from the fires of hell.The only time I screamed god's name was under white sheets and clenched fists and a tangled mess of limbs, the only time I opened a bible was when I tried to look for salvation someplace other than your arms because it didn't feel right for me to have found everything in you.

I never believed in answered prayers until I tasted the one in your lips. Now the pews are drenched in holy water spilling from my mouth as I try to cleanse away the taste of the demons you left lingering on my lips the day I woke up next to an empty space and cold sheets on my bed. The statue of mother Mary is spilling tears from all the lies she's heard you say, the ones you told me right in front of the altar.

My mouth is dripping red as I try to brush your name away, I'm trying to convince myself that these bleeding gums taste better than you do, trying to forget how your lips looked like lust and sin but tasted like salvation.

Please come back. I think God doesn't listen to false prayers.

The pain I feel when I see your name show up in my contacts.

I become expressionless like stone, then I shatter.

I was up until 4 a.m. last night,

You guessed it, crying.

From 11 to 4,

I cried.

Six hours I cried,

And hours before, I died.

But getting the news in public,

The news that you were leaving me

You were leaving me again, another time,

It was too much for me to handle and I broke.

My eyes teared up, and I ran off into my head again.

I will never say to your face how much I cried over you.

And trust me if you come around again I'll likely take you back.

Because I'm stupid, and I don't learn my lesson when it's taught to me.

I'd take you back despite the pain and I'd take you back through everything.

I suppose I'm just as weak when it comes to you as you are when it comes to lying.

I can't write like you do
I can't really compose
Grace has always eluded me
In movement and in prose

You write of such big things
But they are still all the same
Me? I can't really toy
With ideas so insane

I'm not a professional wordsmith
My art hasn't been trained
When I write, the words flow easy
Unabashed and Untamed

You and your words are sculpted
Precisely, with finesse
But with a subdued gloss and lack luster
So twisted so suppressed

And now I see my dear self
Finally in a clear way
Not in my movements or in the glass
but on my inked page

So if you ask me, dear self
Which cage do I choose?
I'd choose my dented brass one
Instead of your golden noose.

One day
I want to write a poem
That captures your soul
In the adjectives
Describing the sky

One day
I want to write a sentence
That you will carry
In your memory
Scarred and stained
For an infinity

One day
I want to write a short story
Of a guy
A lot like you
And a girl
A lot like me
With no lies
Only honesty
And a forever that lasted
Just a while

One day
I want to write a paragraph
About the sea in you
And the sea in me
And how we fell in
Each other
And never needed to come up for air

One day
I want to write a dictionary
With all of our own definitions
Of everyone else's words
It will start from the letter Z
And end on A
Because it will be easier
That way

One day
I want to write an essay
On how the sunlight
Made patterns on your skin
Even after you lied
And shadowed the constellations
Screaming honesty
Into the dark

One day
I want to write a novel
About the way your voice
And his voice
Sounded
Just before
You both were about to cry

One day
I want to write lyrics
For the song
I meant to sing to you
About the moon
And the sun
And how they dance
Whenever all of our eyes are closed
Even if it's just for a second
(Light
Always travels faster
Than sound)

One day
I want to write you a telegram
With someone else's hand
To tell you
How much I miss you
And how my heart
Is not in my chest anymore
Really-
It's shattered across the sky
Just for you to see

One day
I want to write you a letter
To tell you
That you didn't know what love is
And neither did I

But
I still love you

I've become acutely aware of the gravity in the fact that all I said to her was that I don't want to be the one who starts all of our conversations anymore
And that since then we have had no conversations.  
I don't think I will be rid of the haunting that this is my fault until I am haunted with the fact that it may be hers
In so making her not the woman I wanted for
Nor the woman I was all too eager to give myself for
Thirdly making me that man who opened his rib cage exposing his heart for her taking
Only to collect dust, rain drops, and those twisty helicopter things that fall from trees in the autumn
All from being left open so long on a very windy day when she saw what my heart was stretching to offer her and chose to leave it there
Couldn't I once be the one worth taking
Or at least notice when she's not the one worth opening up for.

There are days I wish God hadn’t built me with a zipper for a sternum
You know I don’t always mean to show them everything
It’s just sometimes I forget to zip it back up after I take it on walks to the liquor cabinet
My heart is a bow-tie drinking Manhattans at the center table with a chair full of friends and a twinkle in his eye
My tongue is a rolled up cuff drinking whatever’s on special at the end of the bar confusing, “I’ll have another” with proper conversation
My mind has an unplugged mini fridge in the corner with two luke-warm ciders waiting for a chance to celebrate...remembering to brush my teeth
Depression is a funny sort that way, it’s all her fault, right up until you remember how hard it is to brush your teeth everyday
At which point it’s either your own fault, or we’ll try again tomorrow.

Knowing is not half the battle when the battle is not being waged in your head
Knowing it is all going wrong is just another reason to never put on the helmet and see what the battle may bring
Seeing what right looks like on Pintrest is not motivation to check my zippers
It is the battle cry my stomach gives my lungs after lunch
It is the battle cry the fists of my mind give my heart when we are alone
It is a crop duster driven by the Morton’s Salt Girl, who never misses the open wounds of my torn innards strewn about an open field after losing the battle for the day.
I am a slug on your porch and I shrink with every grain
And you will never hear me scream
It’s just so tiring to tell someone you hurt and have no blood to prove it.

I do not much dream for stars or skinny girls anymore
I am afraid of what their sharp edges will do to my fingertips
I’m just looking for something I can hold on to
Someone who will remind me that I have a place here
If that place is only to take up oxygen
Sometimes I let my dreams get away from themselves and I dream of great magical things:
Like being loved back
Feeling important
Sleeping peacefully

On occasions I even see myself at work opening a love note in my lunchbox from someone who felt compelled to take the time to tell me they love me
It always swells my heart
Makes me want to be a better person
To get out of bed
Run a marathon
Sing an opera
Lift a weight
Sky dive
Read a book
High five a stranger
Take a dancing class
But then I wake up and look across my room at just how far away the light switch is and decide I must be afraid of the dark
Since I never remember to turn off the light before lying down and I never have the strength to get back up

I dream most of all of having someone to tell me the things I need to hear
To give me a purpose
A vision
A reason to live
To stop letting me find better excuses
To yell in my ear or write me a note that says,
“You are worth it, every minute, every cent, every effort.  You are worth it, because you will become a great man and because I love you, and because you are destined to change my world, and because your son needs you, and because you are brilliant, and because the world needs your words, because I need your words”

But the only notes I get are the ones I put into my own lunchbox as a reminder come noon-time
That even if for no other reason than because I said so,
I am worth it

There are days when tired eyes are not enough to wake the moon
There are nights that have chosen to stay
This Morning, This morning, is a good reason to believe in angels
Angels are, of course, a good reason to sleep
Love is an animal
Home is a distant shore your toes are buried in
Home is an accent that no one can hear
Sea shells around ear lobes bring dreams to ear drums
Fall

Fall

Slide

Scraped knees

Scars are chapter headers in a novel no one bought but everyone owns
Bodies are either the slowest way to heaven
Or the fastest way to hell
And regardless of the answer, elbows, are funny little things
Like toe knuckles
Like breakable hearts  
Life is a Red Flyer wagon full of little pieces broken heart
Duct Tape
Super glue
A broken high heel
The hilt of a wooden sword
The rind of six oranges
And the fingerprints of a very angry lady with too much weight on her toes
It bounces over the cracks in the sidewalks and across the train tracks
Life is waiting for everything to bounce just right
As it should
As it will
As it was going to anyway

I dream with all the fervor of a hero
Which is to say that I die in all of my dreams
Fitting you being there
More fitting you not being here when I wake up in a fit and reach for you
Both silently telling me that all I'll ever be for you is a well written story
I'm sorry they can not all have a happy ending
I know you would like me better that way
But tell me Cinderella what's a happy ending if all you're ever drawing are straight lines
Tell me Snow White what is a happy ending when you already see it coming
Tell me Jasmine what is a prince if never a pauper
Tell me Sleeping Beauty why did my kiss not wake you
Were my lips chapped
Was I too eager
Did you find my heart impure
Well I'm sorry pretty little princess
My hands are soaked in dragon's blood
I have felt the bones of castle guards break between these fingers
Is it so hard to imagine that the champion who finally tore down your walls
Would have a little dirt beneath his nails
A broken rib
A hardened heart
It is with that, I kissed you
It is with that, you slept
It is with that, I returned home
And as it goes
And as it always goes
The next man came
Armour shined
Shield cleaned
Sword sheathed
His heart full of nothing but ambition and intention
And a little blood on the bottom of his shoe
And it is with that, he kissed you
It is with that, you awoke
Satisfied