tell me i've got my father's eyes
i'll tell you daddy's got the eyes of god
black and blue

tell me i've got my mother's heart
i'll tell you they're identical
*black and blue

i'm not sorry
that i wanted sleep
more than your ****.

our college lists intersect
only once
and i wonder if
i can take that as a metaphor
for the way our lives
will run parallel
to each other
but never, again,
perpendicular
and i wonder if
the thought
will ever cease
depressing me.

i make a fat joke about myself and
"i don't ever wanna hear you say something like that again," he says
he asks if i am unclear as to why
and i want to ask
if he is unclear as to why
i made it in the first place.

pushing for love is scary. people like to say that it's worth it. but love is a bitter boomerang; you push too hard and it comes back swinging, comes back pushing you, comes back beating you to the ground until you can't breathe. true love leaves you gasping for air, but not in the poetic sense. love leaves you tied to the bottom of the ocean with rocks in your pockets. trapped in a plane with your head out the window. inside of a plastic bag. love is suffocation. pushing for suffocation is scary.

there's something scratchy in my throat. behind my tongue. between my lips. it's ever-present, ever-changing, ever-clawing to be set free. it sits solemnly as i wake, stretching its own claws as i wind up, holding out for the moment i realize that i am conscious. once again. for another day. holding out for the moment i'm smiling, thinking this will be a better day. then it howls. scratches up, up, up. itches my tongue. pounds against my teeth, slithers between my lips, hisses. **maybe not.

i am a black hole
and you
are the stars.