when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.

For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

wounded heart
searches streets
for old lovers
or an ice cream parlor.

falling in lust w/ freezing
is easier than it sounds.
both cold hearts &
mint chocolate chip get the job done.

Words do not echo.
Words do not cry.
Words do not,
Identify.

Scrambled and stirred,
Frozen and baked.
Pulled when needed,
Eaten to be fed.

Pieced together,
Black or white,
Laugh or fight,
Wrong or right.

A sound is bound by key,
A picture by color pigments,
Emotions chemically,
But words contain,
Everything,
And absolutely,
Nothing.

The same word
Can be
Completely
Different,
Depending who, what, how
When it was read
Or written.

What if every word,
Was positive in meaning?
Harmless,
Could not
Destroy feelings.

Words have no senses.
Words have no bounds.
No touch, sight, taste, or smell.
Words have no sound.

Words have no sound.
Unless read aloud.

I do not have a happy song.

I just bathe in whatever it is
I decide to feel that day.

I sit at my window seat
and watch the train ride backwards
while the trees and hillsides shoot in front of me
as though each leaf and branch were being spawned
and that if I were to look behind me
there would be nothing to see.

A simulation
ran by an absentee landlord
who forgot he left the game running
who forgot he left the oven on.

Someone asks me how I'm doing
and I just say very sad because sometimes
I forget that I pretend to be a poet on the internet
and that I know better words to describe it other than very sad
but why bother when you come to the same conclusion.

I do not have a happy song.

I just bathe in whatever it is
I decide to feel that day.

I used to go for walks.
I'd sit on a park bench by the water
And watch the waves come in
Like they're supposed to.
I guess I found comfort in their consistency.
My legs would freeze
My ears would burn
But I wouldn't leave until I thought
I felt what I needed to feel
I understood what I needed to know.

I don't go for walks anymore.
This town is too small
And I'm too scared
I'll see you
Shotgun
In a car that isn't mine.

I've tried to bite the bullet.
They don't taste like bullets anymore.

I wonder if she remembers
The show I put on
The table where she sat
The desert she didn't care for
All the love songs I sang
And sent her way.

The waitress told me
That girl definitely likes you.
I asked how she could tell.

You can tell by the way she stares
By the way she listens.
No girl spends her Saturday night
Watching some teenager play out his Empty dreams
For no reason.

Oh how strong a bridge may seem
Without even gazing below you
To make sure there's more than nothing
Keeping you afloat.