Two birds flying at night crash into each other
and as they spin falling from a cloud of feathers and starlight
they are reminded of a time before they learned how to fly...

Will we fold into each others secrets
would we fit each other like a spoon
won't you take my hand and chase stars with me

we'll catch them if they fall
and bury them in the backyard of our childhood dreams
so we can always find our way back there

Chase the shoreline
fly with a flock of airplanes
we'll signature the moon
as we dance our footprints upon the clouds

swim with me through an ocean of bed sheets
and Sunday mornings
and we'll chase dinosaurs from our bedroom

The warmest place in the world is next to you
let me sip coconuts in your arms
won't you plant my name behind your tongue
that it may bloom in a garden of your smiles

We'll find a beach to name after our children
and serenade the ocean as it refuses to stop kissing the shore
we'll use toothbrushes as tuning forks

fake a limp at new years eve and ride the elevator to the highest floor
and dance with me above the skyline

'cause if you sing me a lullaby of forgiveness
I will keep you from all the broken promises
we can finger paint sunrises on each other skin

Be orphans with me
so that we can name each other
the way we once named the stars
as if the constellations held the promise
we could find our way home

We ran barefoot on the grass alongside the gravel path. I’ll never run as fast as you, but I always try to keep up. The coast line looks like a fresh oil painting this time of day, and I wonder if you notice its colors the way that I do. My focus switches between you and the sun as it sinks closer to the water’s surface, beams breaking and refracting, glittering in every possible direction. There’s no need to decorate this day, I thought.

When we reach the stone cliff, I catch my breath, but the fear sinks in, and I lose it again. Beneath us is a fifty foot drop into deep, dark saltwater. While the surf chops and smacks against the sides of the rock’s base below, I know I would much rather stay up here in the soft sand dunes—safe, quiet and light. The ground I stand here, in this moment, would never hold a candle to your persuasive nature, and I found myself following your lead, stripping down to my bra and underwear. I hated feeling this naked, and the goose bumps on my freckled arms told me the harder we tried to hold on to summer, the sooner September would come.

No part of me wants to look down, but I don’t want to disappoint you either. Let me be clear when I say, I don’t expect you to grab my hand the way you do. I never asked for it, and I didn’t invite it. Yet, the second you do, we’re connected, and I know the jump is inevitable. You’re warm to the touch, and although you never say it, I know you can feel how scared I am; how unacquainted I am with this kind of risk. You fully understand that a person can’t miss something they’ve never had, and I’ve never had this. You know exactly what kind of door it is that you’re prying open; you recognize that the consequences of your introductions and explorations will be dire and deafening.

You know all of this, but you grab my hand anyway.

Despite everything, alongside you, I’m happy to run out of cliff beneath my feet, I’m happy to be terrified, suspended in mid-air. I’m happy… until you let go of my hand. A broken connection, plummeting down, down deep into chilled, murky water—I feel things brush against my legs and arms—I’m alone, and I don’t want to be here. The saltwater stings my eyes as I scour every possible inch of space in front me for some sign of you—hand, a leg—a fleck of movement. My blood pulses against the sides of my head. I need air. As I rush for the surface, I feel something pull me back down. Panic quickly coats my chest and my throat, and I wrestle my tangled ankle free from the thick patches of vegetation below.

You’re nowhere when I finally break the surface—******* up every inch of oxygen my lungs can manage—thankful, but estranged.

You grabbed my hand to jump, only to let go, and now, you’re nowhere.

I look in the distance, and I see your footprints on the beach, leading back up to the path. You’re okay. I’m relieved, but confused—so I follow them with my questions in tow. I follow them the whole way back to where we started—clothed and barefoot, talking about what we should do with the rest of our afternoon.

When I finally find you, I’m flushed and damp, and I notice that you’re not any of these things at all…including alone. She’s beside you, pretty…put together, and dry. You’re sitting still with her. No need to seek a thrill, no need to conquer heights. Although you never say it, I know you can see me silently disintegrating in front of you. Placing your hand on my shoulder, you’re cold to the touch. I pull away. I’m anchored here, but I don’t want to be—I want to run, but I’m stiff with fear as you open your mouth to speak.  I try not to hear your words, but you over articulate them, on purpose. They drip with insincere guilt as you slowly slide each of their jagged edges into my head.

“She gets me.”

*He knew, but he grabbed my hand anyway.

I picked up a collection of your poetry
and it didn't take all night to read
You talk to yourself a lot.
I am now empty more so for knowing
how empty you tell yourself you are.

there is a fifteen minute cab ride
or a 45 minute bus ride
that makes the most distance of this city
but I would walk to you at any hour.
Regardless of any change
I may carry in my pockets,
there will always be an open hand
for you if you would take it

Somewhere my mother shares her bed with nobody
after being twice robbed of her covers
by the same man
she has never returned to that softness.

somewhere else my father sleeps with himself
and cries for having held on for so long

There is a grace we don't allow ourselves for letting go.
you need not be in love to hurt,
you need not forgive to be alone.

I think you are everything I reach for,
though for fear my throat is empty of your echoes
I read your poetry
and some nights I ride the bus home
in the other direction.

I'm looking for a hailstorm to run blindfolded through
For the sake of refief
A psychosomatic firing squad to save me
from this six by three square feet of dirt
that you have left me
I now drag behind myself

I have taken this earth
and sculpted it in your likeness
I am Pygmalion praying to the moon for love
but instead I get rain
and as the picture of Her and perfect summers
falls apart like mud through my finger
I clasp and grasp and gasp
and when the rain stops
I am left on my knees in the mud praying with open hands
my skin is baptized so clean my scars shine

Now as the pieces of a heart are returned to us
twisted and unwanted and rearranged like a Rubix cube
by the hands of past lovers
who we knew too fast and promised so much
but didn't care enough
to figure out our combinations
or to hold the secrets contained or the dreams cradled
in this human-sized box
I guess no one thought to tell them
that if you plan to be a past lover
return what you have found just as you have found it
and walk backwards
that the image of you walking away from me may not haunt me in the mornings
and I can make believe you are returning to me at night

but even the stars rearrange themselves
destiny can be rewritten
let what remains of my days be it's pages
in an infinite number of realities I am still happy with you
in an infinite number of realities I am tragic without you
but in this reality I may be happy without you

I'm kicking open my wardrobe and cleaning it out of all the shadows
I'm putting on a new jacket, a new hat
but I'm keeping my old shoes
for I will not forsake the path
all the roads that once only led to you now lead from you
thank you for the detour

I'm looking for new hands to run through forests with
new arms in which to build a home in
a girl to jump on bed sheets with
and a shoe box in an attic to bury you in

For this heart will grow and one day I will see
through an unbroken stained-glass window
you were just another piece of me

Unleash the arrow from your bow
I'm hanging by a string you know

The anger's bent you nearly in two
Your rationality has lost it's due

Cast me not across the sky
It will only leave you asking why

Put me back into your quiver
Where we can again be birds of a feather

i felt your arms sink into my chest cavity,
like how ghosts float through skin, phantom hands in my body
you could pull out anything you wanted to

my feet feel like phantom limbs if i sit just right,
underneath my floral sheets, i sleep on the floor now
i made a nest. i will hide in it until i can see through my skin again

Nearly twice as tall,
And just as thin,
You hold me in your arms,
And the whole thing begins.

"Today was just awful!" I cried into your shoulder,
You kept me sane the entire time,
My eternal holder ,
You helped me through my darkest days.

You move me to the couch,
And pull me farther in,
I tried to resist your help,
But I knew you'd always win.

You wrapped your knee around me,
Locking me in place,
I never wanted to be free,
From your loving embrace.

Kissing the top of my head,
You whispered comforting words in my ear,
Saying they weren't worth getting this worked up over,
Killing my fear.

I wrapped my arms around your shoulders,
Burying my face into your chest,
I never knew a guy that would be any bolder,
Then to hold me close and make the whole world disappear.

A soft kiss on my lips,
Wiping the stray tears from my cheeks,
The warmth from the fire spreading over us,
I hadn't felt this safe in weeks.

Until you took me into those arms I felt as if I was hanging by a thread,
But I know from your soft kisses and deep embraces this will never end.