i hang my head over the cool white surface
gazing at last hours lunch.
my stomach hurts.

i hang my head over the cool white surface, washing away my pain
and remmenants i couldn’t flush away.
my teeth ache.  

i stare at my reflection:
short cropped hair,
almost beautifully defined cheekbones,
red eyes that feel hallowed.
my throat aches.

i turn to the cool white surface,
a colourful mosaic of food i can name
on all of my fingers
and notes from my daily logs.
i ache for the number on the scale
to drop once more.

If loneliness is a memory that tastes like
cigarette smoke and *** soaked ash
I have lived it a thousand times.
If the endless nothingness of being lonely swallows me again and again,
like waves on a beach,
Leaving me to drown again and again-
Leaving me gasping for breath in a moment of mercy.
If loneliness tastes like getting caught in a thunderstorm in an unfamiliar place
And there is no one to comfort you,
Then I have been left in the cold for what feels like an eternity

say my name like a prayer on your lips,
hands clasp in worship,
and kneel before my body-
to worship as your altar

i remember the taste of metal in my mouth,
the warmth and the pain of
turning my fiery words
into mountains of ash
years of biting my tongue,
wanting to scream,
yet the smoke chokes my lungs

what happened to us?
the flicker of times gone by,
the brief glimpses of past adventures,
phone calls that go late into the night,
i look at you- eyes red and hair askew
what happened?
where did you go?
and i realized the door is open,
and the ground is cold.

whisper sweet nothings in the dark
with your hand
wrapped delicately around my throat

i can count the number of times
i felt like killing myself
on both my hands, feet,
on all of my bones with my eyes shut.
i could tell you details,
how, when, why,
but change my answer each time-
i could count those times on both hands.

i could tell you of the days i think of
fireflies in the summer
and snowfall in january,
how both disappear after time,
yet i can remember the images
so clearly, so vividly.
i could count those times on both hands.

if you asked me to share
the number of times i felt like killing myself
you’d be waiting for months, years even.
maybe sooner,
as you might be reading my note,
with them all included.

go away,
sleep just take me
well gosh dang it
i’m done,
gone,
****,
disappearing,
vanished,
out of here.
                  ( ***** you brain)
— sleep calls with overactive brains // a.

"come back” i whisper.
"come back” i say.
"come back” you hear.
"come back” i plead.
"please, come back”

haunt me long
after you
fade from me

you almost make me
hate you more
than I hate myself.

— how you push my buttons // a.

its a tragedy, you know.
that he looks at you as if he's the sun
and you still burn him,
sending him with wax coated wings
beneath the seas.

“i will make you immortal,“ he says as his lips touch your skin, leaving trails of ash behind. you do not think of his words.

"i will make you immortal” he coaxes into your ear as he beckons you closer, the wax dripping from your wings and burn your skin as he reaches out to kiss you. it’s not enough.

"i will make you immortal” he whispers as he watches you fall, feathers fluttering around you, looking too divine in the midst of your fall. he couldn’t look away.

"i will make you immortal” he cried out as he watches the saltwater sea swallow up your golden touched, sunburnt body.  

“i will make you immortal” he vows as you fade into a story about boys who fall in love with suns meant for the sea.

write me a tragedy
and i'll write the tale of you and i-
i will build you cathedrals and palaces of words
and burning infernos of our love-
leave trails of ash onto each page
and give us a bittersweet end
so that you may realize the words i spill out will burn you-
that to love a poet- to love me-
i make my tragedy yours

regrets are like stars;
too many to count,
too many to name,
too many to remember.

i just want to be clean again-
to wash away the remaining traces of incommunicable words
that still stain my skin-
the softness that i once took for granted,
has turned hard and still holds on,
its fragile, oh so fragile-
i fear that becoming stone won’t hide the cracks
i’ve spent so long trying to hide

darling,
anything for you i would
keep trying to make your shine known
out of all of us, i
toast to you as i raise my glass,
and you’ll be amazing

the first time,
the last time,
i would like to sleep
in your arms again, darling

sometimes i'm like the night,
mysterious, dark, never-ending.
sometimes you're like the stars,
illuminating, bright, ever-lasting.
and sometimes we made and meet
and kiss and dance and die
and sometimes i never see you and you see me
and sometimes we disappear from each other
and sometimes i drown myself in your light
and, and, sometimes i miss you too.

— let us bask in our nighttime adventures // a.

i once wished i was made of
sharp hipbones and tainted glass,
that my wrists were tiny fragile things,
with fingers that looked like spider legs
covered in too large rings.

no one told me how much it hurt.

i once wished i was made of
cigarette smoke and black coffee.
that my body could look like a model in a magazine.

no one told me how much it hurt.

i once wished i was made of
sugar free jello and *****,
so that my body could be small and dainty-
with a hunger that could only be quenched
by photographs of unknown girls i envied.

no one told me how much it hurt.

i once wished i was made of
rotten flesh and bone,
if i couldn't be small-
i had no worth at all.

no one told me how much it hurt.

“i love your neck,” he whispers as his hand curls around the pale flesh delicately. careful not to bruise in places easily seen.
      “i love your neck,” he whispers kissing the bruises he left behind. red, purple, yellow decorating it like a necklace.
      “i love your neck,” he says gripping it tightly as he thrusts deeper in your body. your breath is caught in your throat, you struggle to breathe.
      “i love your neck,” he says pushing you against the wall- bruises are a normal sight, it doesn’t scare you anymore, not to breathe.
     “i love your neck” he says as he leads you to the scaffold. you think of the blade at your neck and wonder if it loves yours too.

maybe i miss the butterflies.
maybe i miss the warmth.
maybe i miss your hands in my hair
or the moment time stands still.
maybe i miss the fragility.
maybe i miss the late night talks.
maybe i miss your lips on mine
or the moments of peaceful silence.
maybe i miss the time.
maybe i miss the what if’s
or the what could’ve beens
or maybe i miss the idea of you.

A faint moment of serenity,
kisses that stain hands in worship,
of feathers light bliss,
using sinful touch as words,
singing praises and gospels
almost missing your wicked smile

sometimes i miss the touch of rain on my skin,
the water pouring down on my body,
soaking me to the bone.
sometimes i miss the feeling of calmness,
the racing thoughts in my mind
drowning into a peaceful quietness.
sometimes i miss the feeling of not knowing
where my tears begin and the rain stops,
basking in the sorrows i feel.
sometimes i miss being alright,
the depths of numbness,
the emptiness staring back quietly.
sometimes i miss the sun,
sometimes i miss the loud thoughts.
sometimes i miss the nights it rained for hours.
sometimes the soft sounds luring me back to sleep.
sometimes i miss the calmness i seek.

I used to sit around and wonder:
where did I lose myself?
where did I go?  


Now I look in the
mirror and realize,
I was never really there in the first place.

— the mirror keeps staring back at me // a.

my body’s missing pieces,
and i don’t know
how to fix it,
or fill it
without your embrace.

death,
my friend,
comes for us all in the end.

every day is a new adventure with you,
voicing our thoughts
as the weight of the world closes in.

midnight talks and kitchen dance battles,
a hopeless type of gal,
red roses,
i loved you
and you’ll never know how much

we live as star-crossed lovers do,
patiently, seething, waiting,
wondering if we’re a tragedy
like boys to suns or
gods to mortals,
doomed to part only to die second
or worse, we live in the end.

you burned like a star
they whispered,
terror and awe laced in their words

you burned so suddenly, so bright
everyone but the sun had to look away
the sun stared down as
the burning boy fell underneath the water-
blue hands reaching up to catch him.

stars burn out too fast
they speak,
indifference and pity colour their words.

your shadow, i found,
was still clearer then your face.

you’ve become nothing
but fire and wax and regrets.
you’ve become a cautionary tale,
a warning of loving too much too fast
you’ve become a memory
in a long list of lovers, of tragedies

you’ve become nothing
but ash and feathers and bone,
you’ve become a story,
a tale of boys who fell for suns
you’ve become a glimpse,
a moment of clarity that ends all too soon

with your sin stained touch,
unholy scriptures,
and whispered prayers
falling from your wicked tongue,
sometimes i wonder if we’re
truly of the ******,
disgraced in the eyes of the lord,
or if the lord revels in our unholiness

with a heavy heart the sun watches the boy with broken wings fall further away from him.
“i loved him,” the sun says watching him fade underneath the waves.
“i loved him first” the sea answer back

You are touch starved
hunger pained,
steel-toed mess
of sun kissed hair and
poison kissed lips
you are my everything and
nothing


— for I love all these parts of you that others do not see // a.

i had so much to
say to you,
but the words die
on my lips.

i had so much to
give to you,
but there’s no more to
give away.

i had so much to
look forward with you,
but there’s only regrets
in my heart.

Your scent lingers on your shirts
and your words still taint my skin
your memory still eats away at me,
slowly but surely
i get rid of you
you become a ghost
i let you fade
until you’re nothing.  
                       ( just like you told me. )

— karma’s a ***** has so am i // a.

i sometimes imagine
boys with sunburnt skin falling
into saltwater seas
with laughter on their lips

the days seem colder without you,
i guess you’re a memory
that will never fade,
your touch hollows me out
and leaves me cold and sore

the gentle hands that wrap around my throat,
the decorative jewels of bruises,
the pale flesh that inspired poetry,
kissed by the silver blade
as i kneel in the scaffold

if you asked me the moment
icarus felt like tragedy and poetry,
i would laugh and say he knew,
that boys who love suns are already tragedy,
but seas who love boys are poetry,
because love is a double edged sword
and the moment of clarity ends all too soon.