She  smiled bravely in the fields of nettles
the threads of straw  a lost memory.
Her heart  injured
like the fey light bulbs
that never shone.
Having walked from the station
to a  lost place
where she made a  pitch for  her soul,
promising not to fall for the  dark dour suitors
who leaves their dusty shoes on tables.

~
Rigel

Art thou
Thy soul
Of souls
Reaching
O to thee?

Or that
Celestial
Tide thus
Brimming
So, most
Delightful
Beams o'er
Me?
~

Sirius

O, Yes!
My Bride-to-be,
Spinning fiercely
Like a dervish in
This galaxy!
~

Rigel

My flames! My core!
Held together by my
Own attractiveness, I
Assure, I need not thee
Tis myself I do adore!
Fantastic mysteries
I keep thus pure!

Woo me to Love?
You seem assured
Of your Self as well!
But you must make
Haste to hence take
This, my body, O!
Heretofore to meld.
~

Sirius

My lust forsaken
Broken, taken!

See how hot
These fires
Thus burn,
All my Love
To you I turn!
~

Rigel

Be gone!
Be gone!
My Love
Must be earned.
~

Sirius

O what woe!
Woebegone
And melancholy!
Ease my malady,
Be my Lady!
~

Rigel

Perhaps one day
I shall, but as of
Now, I turn
Thee away.
~

Sirius

I shall do
My utmost
To burn
So close
Today
Tomorrow
So perhaps
Someday
It will be so.
~

Rigel silently

*Sigh, you
Persistent thing;
I wish to cradle
You, soon too.

Your name
Is nails on a chalkboard,
Slipping from my tongue like the slime of unwashed plates.
Vowels left unattended, a man at the door asking to be let in
Whom I don't know.

Your name
Is the creaking of a staircase,
Sending chills up my spine, for I am the only one who's home.
Syllables upended, a vase of ashes on the rug knocked over
By what I tell myself was the wind.

Your name
is the clicking of a lock,
opened from the outside
When only I own the key.
Consonants only hinted, a stillness in the air that settles on my skin.

Your name
Is haunted,
And it's ghost sleeps on my sheets
leaving behind the scent of roses and stomach acid
In it's wake.

you made a poet fall in love with you:
did you expect her not to fill pages
with how she felt for you,
did you expect her not to spend ages
trying to find the right words for you
(and none seemed beautiful enough);
you made a poet fall in love with you,
did you expect her not to make you her muse,
did you expect her not to write about you
the way she writes about everything she adores?
you kissed a poet goodnight after every date:
did you expect her not to scribble verse after verse
choppy stanzas about the way your lips felt on hers;
did you expect her not to gush about it
to her best friend - even if it was a piece of paper;
did you expect her not to make that feeling,
and the promise it made, the promise of you,
into the only art she was capable of
- because that's what you were, to her?
you made a poet fall in love with you,
and when you broke her heart in two,
did you expect her not to write about it
when that was the only catharsis she knew?
did you expect her not to splatter ink over pages,
hastily, the way she wished her blood could spill;
did you expect her not to write about your skin
on hers, into a notebook, at 2 a.m.
while you were drinking beer and laughing with a friend?

you made a poet fall in love with you,
and expected her not to make her art about you;
you broke a poet's heart, you shattered it,
and you expected her to walk away from it,
without any lines written about
how it tears her apart and
how you still have her heart --
you made a poet fall in love with you,
and when you broke her apart,
expected that to be all, but that's not who we are.
you did not get what you expected her to be,
but then again, you left her -
so in the end, i guess neither did she.

as I lay here awake back at home,
my mind is stuck on one thing-
love burns. as you lay there where I have laid next to you countless times, you feel no shame for my burns.
love is the most powerful thing
in this world, yet people like you
think it's perfectly acceptable to abuse.
sure, ok maybe "love" didn't exist in our story, however you had me tricked
it was headed there- then que the lies,
confusion, and freak outs. "i really, really, really like you babe" i repeated this enough for you to understand. And the sickening part is you said it back like you meant it, but now I am certain everything was a lie. you repeated me as if you were a parakeet whose only choice was to imitate my words. i wish whatever we had going for us didn't have to end like this. stop ignoring my pleas and repeat after me: "I miss you and I mean it."

When you walk past me, I can feel the hatred burning in your heart.
When we make eye contact, I can feel regret swelling in my throat.
When I hear your name, I think about all the good times we had.
When I see you smile, I start screaming inside my head to look away.
When you run your fingers through your hair, I feel myself die inside.
When we avoid each other in the hall, I know everyone can see my pain.
When I talk about you, I feel like you're there with me, That's why I do.
When I see you, I taste the blood from my cheek warm on my tongue.
When I look away, I unclench my jaw before I realize it was even closed
When I realize what happened, I make sure nobody saw me staring at you.
When I know the coast is clear, I swallow the evidence.
When you’re through with me, I will have scars nobody can see.

Maybe burning that drawing was disrespect to your art
But you disrespected my body

I can see the flames curling on the paper but under the embers
Is your hands on my chest

Maybe it was unfair of me to break up with you so sudden
But it was unfair of you to touch me

It was unfair of you to start this in the first place

14 I was 14 and you were too **** old you should've stayed away
They told you

Why didn't you listen

Maybe burning that drawing was a disrespect to your art
But you disrespected my body

And if you think I'm gonna forget that then you don't know me at all