When I needed a google search to tell me if I was still a ******.

It took a game of dare or double dare to teach me I don’t know repeated sounds an awful lot like yes
and ******* can drop mountains on boundaries not yet built –
serrated edges on once innocent skin

I let you carve me.

Nine years later and I’m still trying to find air in the ocean where it all happened.
I took lessons, but I never learned how to swim.

I remember thinking you must’ve liked me, that was the reason
and returning the favor would’ve made it okay. I found you in my freshmen year yearbook.

But I was wearing a bikini shaped like ignorance and a smile lined with naïve

you weren’t reaching for my heart when you went to hold my hand,
forcibly lacing my fingers like ribs around your ****.

I still wonder if dropping the I don’t before the know would’ve made any difference.

I saw a young beauty at jail
i just had enough for her bail
so i chopped her up neatly
and packed her discreetly
as i sent her parts home in the mail

it's 5 a.m.

you’re tired ,

that's the only time

you seem to want me.

whether it's alone

in your bedroom

under the sheets

or it's with your friends

in a crowded cafe,

it's only when you’re tired.

when you’re awake,

you won't put your lips on my edges.

you’re too busy touching over lovers,

rummaging through papers,

calling your friends,

laughing.

you seem to forget who woke you up.

who made you warm.

and tomorrow you will be tired again

and i will still let you

put your lips

on my edges

though i know

when you're awake

you won't need me.

but

my heart is bigger

than my head.

i am

so so warm,

and you are

so so cold.

cold enough to use me.

i - warm enough to not care.

because

you are so much happier

when

you’re awake.

fireplaces are made to keep houses warm but mine only filled my house with smoke and coated my clothes with ash. sweaters that look soft are actually itchy when you put them on, and there is such a thing as coffee with too much cream and sugar, i’ve tasted it myself and that sickly sweetness wouldn’t leave my tongue for months and months and months until the flowers started blooming again. thanksgiving is a holiday without presents. and when i was using my fists to punch holes in the walls i realized that rooms aren’t actually rooms they’re just four walls filled with air, and that i need something to ground me.

i will ban
          syntax
          grammar

i will banish
          sentences
          phrases
          clauses

i will evict
          capitalization

i will exile
          all punctuation

i will relegate all of these to the
          circular file of written expression

it is time
at long last
for words to
squirm and falter
but ultimately prevail
in their singular
              splendid
              glory