she's got eyes blue enough to swim in,
deep enough to drown in.
she'll make you want to get lost at sea.
i didn't know it was possible to love the undertow
until i met her.
she will draw you in
just like the moon pulls the tide
in an attempt to keep the two bodies together.
yet she will ward you off,
keep you at bay.
it's hard to fall in love with a sailing ship from the dock.
she is a beacon of light too bright to observe.
her hands are the coldest you'll ever hold;
i think her heart is too.
she's always been too scared and unprepared
to let anyone get close to her.

the girl that carries the weight of the world on her shoulders
but isn't strong enough to walk away.
j.c.

i'm going to tell you a story
about the girl who carved novels
into her wrists
because she struggled to find
the right words to say.
she would often find herself choking
on misplaced syllables
and unexpected vowels.
you see,
the lump in her throat
is all the words she'd wished she'd said
trying to claw their way out of her.
the lump in her throat isn't a can't,
it's a won't.
so when you ask her why she doesn't speak
it's not because she lacks the ability
to form rational thoughts
and coherent sentences.
it is because she finds no struggle in her silence.
and when you ask her what's wrong,
she'll say nothing.
but if you're lucky,
she might roll up her sleeves
revealing what had been known
only to her.
and maybe you won't know what to say
and that's alright.
but don't just tell her to stop.
that's like telling someone
not to jump
when their toes are already curled around the ledge.
instead, acknowledge that what she's feeling is real
and be her voice when she can't find the words.
j.c.

bodies fit together
and sometimes they don't.
cupid struck me with a billion arrows,
each with precision and force.
i guess he was so focused on me he forgot about you.

you coursed through my veins,
ran laps in my head.
you filled me to the brim.
my love for you ran deep
but the feeling was not mutual.
you see, when he tells you he cares,
he means only when it is convenient for him.

listen when i say:
one-sided love
is not really love at all,
simply adoration.
and i know now that i deserved better
than anything you had to offer.
you taught me to not beg for what does not want to stay.

bodies fit together
and sometimes they don't
and although i promised myself i'd get over it,
i still like to think that it hurt you too
j.c.

My father walked me down the aisle,
But my mother held my arm.
He went with me,
But we went not towards the altar,
But towards the door.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And the ***** rang through the church,
Humming through the elaborate crown molding,
Carved by my ancestors.

He went,
Not beside me,
But before me,
And I watched,
As he was illuminated by the bright,
Overbearing,
Texas sun.

My father walked me down the aisle,
But I did not wear white.
My father walked me in silence,
And I shed tears not for a man standing at the altar,
But for the one I would never see again.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And no veil obscured my face.
All eyes were upon me, but not for my pristine beauty,
Instead for my clenched jaw and furrowed brow,
Severe and fierce to distract from my glassy eyes.

My father did not leave me at the end of our walk to sit beside my mother.
She clung to me for support and sobbed breathlessly,
Loudly,
Unavoidably,
And I carried her with one hand,
My sister the other,
And walked towards my future.
A future family,
Not one person more,
But one person less.
I walked,
One final time,
With him.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And I will never forget it.
Hundreds of eyes isolating my family from the crowd,
Slow and muffled sounds drowning in the deafening beat of my heart,
Blurred faces staring,
Black heels clacking against the cobbled path from the church,
The anguished wails of my mother,
The whimpering of my sister,
And the wooden box that glided before us,
Pulling,
A string tied to our patriarch,
The pin key of our family,
Pulled taut and then snipped with the slam of the hearse doors.

My father walked me down the aisle,
Before I had a chance to grow up.
He walked me,
Out of the church,
Away from the altar,
Never to be walked again.

After you
I became a graveyard
Full of memories
No one else wanted to visit
In an unused plot of land
There is an unwatered flower bed
In another there is a broken headstone
That looks like a shattered mirror
Unanswered questions float around with no place to rest
And every night when the sun sets I want you to return
I want you to come and see
That without you there is nothing left
Without you
Every embrace will be bereft

today i remembered what he smelled like.
i caught a whiff of something oddly familiar.
at first, i wasn't sure what it was,
but it hit me all too fast.
it was him.

i'm somehow always caught between forgetting he's dead
and remembering he's dead.
today i remembered.

chocolate axe body wash with a hint of lavender--
that's him.
it jogged my memory in an aggressive fashion,
almost intrusive.
all this time i was searching for him and came up short.
this time he found me.

the pursuit was long over.
after all, it's been almost two years
but there's something about it;
it shook me to the core,
it jolted me awake.
you see,
all this time i was asleep
in a cloudy daze
lost with no direction
but now?
now the quest continues with an unfamiliar sense of urgency.
how can i get to you?
how can i bring you back to me?
j.c.

you always said

"there's plenty of fish in the sea",

but every one i come across,
i compare to you.

i have yet to find one worth drowning for.
j.c.