The pressure,
soft weight of your body -
the mass of your biceps and torso,
The tangle of my hair
when we wake and kiss
My fingers run over the skin of your back,
over your short, short hair,
emotional gratification,
the need -
my need to taste you again.

Your skin is ruddy
and you’re made of rock.
I’m part naivety
and part alcohol,
trying hard to swallow
my need for you to touch me.

I push,
you shove

and now
we're an ocean apart,

you ignore me
with every bottle

I count flower petals with
your name on them

I taste paradise
on your skin,
Come to Eden
again,
In the name
of everything holy,
How are you sculpted
so perfectly?

I didn’t cry
Out of self-pity, or loathing, or hurt;
I cried
Out of ******, of joy, of love.

You pressed inside,
Hands shaking
Baring teeth,
I kept my eyes open
So I could look into yours.

Tangled together,
I couldn't leave such beauty
Even after the clock struck one
I slept
Cradled to your side.

Later still
I smell you
On my skin;
I taste you
On my lips.

No one else fits me.
I can't bare to wash the feeling of you away.

I once took a lover
who ****** like a bulldozer
and treated my *******
like the “A” button on an arcade game
(push-push-push-push-push)
he flexed like a Luchador
and I never saw him cry

There was one
who sounded like morning dew
in spring
when she came
and I wanted to taste
every inch
of her

I loved somebody
with a tire of squish around his belly
and purple scar stripes
like soft, whispered apologies
who counted my tears
while I honestly thought
he was the one

I am
the other woman
mouth full of fire
body of glass
it takes
one insincerity
and I am
sure that you
are disloyal

trust is
a funny thing
uncertain
like a joke
that I don’t
understand
so when everybody
laughs, I assume
the joke’s on me

and sometimes
I am so stubborn
in my solidarity
that I punish myself
for aching
for you

and you become
the enemy

so I spew heated
words with the
intent to burn

I am
perforated
third degree
detonation

I am
so
*******
sorry

your skin is made
of spiderwebs
you fall apart
under the slightest pressure
I can’t help but scream
when I think of touching you again

you repeat the words,
“space,” “distance,” “separation”
like a prayer
as if that could solve our problem
your tongue is a burning iron
your teeth are soldiers to distrust

you say you want to be truthful
but your entire body vibrates
under the thunder
of my sobs

The devil’s in town today
a man in black,
a tired smile
seeking solace
from pushin’ others away
from pushin’ me away

So I’ll be here
crying for shelter, shelter
‘cause I taught him
(but he hasn’t learned)
Building walls doesn’t
solve any problem
only makes a bigger mess

fingerprints
made of clay
and the agave sun
burnin'
my skin

tequila
del sol
and thick pages
of holy words

Prayin’ God’s right hand
gets there first

each broken bone in my body
has repaired itself reinforced

steel
adamantium
rock and lead

compassion coiled tightly
around a clenched fist
because giving yourself
to anybody who asks
and getting ******* back
can weigh you down

and every lie
each one of them
sang to me
bore my second mutation
calloused skin,
toughened heart

hardened
calcified
reinforced and fossilized

even though I mention your names,
for the first time in my life
I am writing
about myself

I remember the
first time I saw you
17-year-old me
was into it
when you looked
right past me

a year and a half later
you acted like a five year old
despite being five years
older than me
and I thought
it was all a joke

four months later
we’re signing a lease
and our friends are
telling us to cool it
on the public affection,
now I am five years old

one year later
I learn that
you’re a violent drunk
with a begging, sobbing attachment
to a woman who had you
lick the dirt from her pumps

and I love you anyway
and I give you all of me
anyway,
and one year after that
curse you
and cringe at your name

it is not encouraging
to hit rock bottom
the only place to go
is not “up”
because I have been
underground before

we count our minutes in 60’s
our currency in 100’s
I am counted in pastel pink
and a sunlit core
you are counted in cold steel
and thieving hands



I feel like I’m going to explode
pretty much constantly

Because I’m never enough
for anybody,
which of course
isn’t true
But they tell me
that it is
and I trick myself
into believing them
I must be
the worst kind
of *******.

I was there with you,
you cried and cried
spilling fear and anxiety
on the skin of my back
on the skin of my thighs
fits that overwhelmed you,
as your bones shook mine
as you rocked back and forth
I wished
under my breath
and in my prayers,
but you blamed me anyway

Like mud
drying in the sun
until it's stiff as starch

I kept my eyes
tightly shut
(to keep the monsters out.)

I drank salt and
whispered softly, "I love you,
I love you, "

until it meant nothing -
Until I was struck
dumb as a cookoo clock

I used to wrap myself
in pastel colored ribbons
until I grew taller
and left them in the rain

I used to count the seconds
quietly to myself
until you bought me
that first bottle of wine

your name fills my mouth,
most mornings
when the sun comes up and
I become puddles of myself

maybe if I made you a number
it would invalidate you to me
you could be #3
I’ll say it’s because
our time difference
is three hours

I’m just thinking about you
and I wish that you’d call
or take any of my calls
or maybe I just wish that
you were as strong a person
as I thought you were

this poem is devolving

I am devolving
but thank you
for each injury

I’ll keep them in my pockets
like little prayers
that give me the strength you lack

the moon always reminds me of you
it's almost laughable
when I think about what you said to tie your memory
to the moon

and I'm just another
20-something fool whose spent the last five years
crying over those hard hearted *** and runners
who promised "forever"
while they hold another's hand
and I cover my eyes and move my fingers apart
to peek at what's really going on
only to deny it all over again in the morning

it has been eighty-one days
since you spoke me to
(with the exception of the three hours
you used to make me more miserable
than I already was)

it has been eighty-one days
of punishment
though you refuse to admit
that punishment
is exactly what you’re doing

it has been eighty-two days
since the last time you said
that you loved me
approximately twelve hours
changed love to isolation

there was a bombing in your city
I risked contacting you
because I didn’t know if you
were injured, or possibly dead
because you are a stranger to me now

how dare you call me “love”
after you betrayed me
cheated, and lied
and blamed it on trust
and blamed it on me
told me that I am overreacting
over and over
that I am wrong
that I have always been wrong
because to you,
I am never right

news flash:
when you’re in love
you
don’t
*******
leave

I gave you me,
and you helped yourself
to seconds
and thirds,
as I mistook your sweat
for the taste of sunlight
baked into your skin;
so I covered my ears
like a child,
when they told me that
you were spoiled,

because I was faithful in the most obscene way.

They’re the kinds
That blow in
Like summer heat
And settle in the dust
The bad news blues
Mamma warned you about
The gunslinger’s smile
Daddy didn’t trust
Humid touches
And featherweight footsteps
‘Til the wind carries them
To the next town.

We kiss until our lips chap - slow, painful kisses
Because of the sweat
because of the fruit
because I love you, always,
You, with your
skunk smoke drifts
and tequila sweat,
Your flavor hasn't changed at all

And it's been five years
I still write poetry about you

Do you remember that night outside your house?
When my hair, disheveled from the wind,
Was knotted and messy
Like an overused mop?

Sculpted hands,
Reached for one another
With promise in the fingertips,
Heavy eyes met,
Glass marbles attracting like magnets.

The moon was at its fullest
Incandescent and pregnant,
A paper cut out of itself,
Underneath it
We followed
Inflated and brilliant.

Do you remember what I told you?
When my slightly intoxicated state
Loosened my lips
And wine allowed sentiment in?
**** words hung in the air between us
Until you cut them off with a kiss.

I have a weakness for extremes.
for tall, bald girls who smoke cigarettes and preach ethics.
for that growl in your voice.
for fat, hairy men who practice science and believe in God.
for the way you use your tongue.
for people who speak tenderly pull my hair too hard.

I have a habit of finding forgiveness in sweat stained sheets.
I have this glass jar. I whisper your name into it when the moon is full.
I have always wanted to smash it into shards.

craving Jupiter
fingertips to belly swell
pink lips, open mouth
bruise, crush, crumble,
pressure

drunk on Saturn
thinning skin until
the hardened fist,
the words bite,
"blow"

exhausted by Neptune
praying for tenderness
but you
just take, take,
take

You sat on your throne,
A snake
coiled around your right hand
Hissin' and
strikin' at me
Until I ****** the sweat
Off of your fat, mob boss fingers

You hands with their prominent veins
Move towards your mouth,
Your fingers are better used when painting a canvas
Than holding a cigarette.

Inhale,
Exhale.
Almost a ritual
For the seventh day of the week.

The Sunday hunt is on,
Change from behind the couch
And between its cushions
Collected to buy assorted coffee beans.

Cigarettes
Quarters
And coffee,
Another Sunday afternoon.

Sitting on the porch
Indulging in our fortune
With me, memorizing your features
Sculpting them into my mind.

You look away from me
I say your name
But you cover your mouth
With a coffee mug.

My hand touches yours
You hardly react,
So I take the gesture back
And head to the kitchen to start another *** of coffee.

I would have liked
a goodbye ****
One last time
to scream your name
and beat your chest,
But like everything else
it was too much to ask.

I laugh now
over how we both knew
That I never would have left,
Because somehow
I’m always falling for
doom and gloom *******

And it’s getting old, fast.

Like rock,
and honey,
I pretend that I
am not “I”
until their fists find my face
pry open my mouth
and spit on my tongue
until I praise them
for letting me drink

because I still feel
their grubby hands,
with sweaty palms,
with fat fingers,
applying pressure
anywhere it hurts
the most

they seem to favor
my throat

The only place
I’ve never been
afraid of the dark

the only home
I ever had
was with you

heart
like a fat
rotten plum

I still carry your bruises
like that first bouquet
of roses with my name on it

but at least I recognize
that they are
beyond wilted

and maybe I never did
trust him
to love me

but that’s your responsibility
even though you’d
never acknowledge it

and he’s as bad as me - worse, even
he pretends his flowers
are still in bloom

and I guess
that isn’t my problem
anymore

but I would still feel better
if I could just
break her ******* nose

You told me
on more than one occasion,
That you bought me the moon
because I was so pretty,

And that was our gift:
the night
healed and illuminated,
Where I would talk your ear off
and you would be my rock
But eventually
the moonlight fell short,
And I spent too many nights
Calling out your name
When you turned your back,
And it took me months
just to let you go
Months I spent praying
it was just a stupid joke

But the moon is just a pale rock
whose light keeps me awake
restless on the bed we shared.

All I do
is practice patience
And all they do
is take
take
take
And I’m the one
praying for forgiveness.

I wore your scent
like I couldn’t breathe
without it,
You threw me out
like week old garbage
collecting flies,
and what I can’t understand
is how somebody
can be everything one day
and forget your name
the next
because I’ll never forget yours.

You’re like a train.
Steam powered
and old fashioned,
With thick, black smoke.
Chugging along because you
don’t know anything else,
So rigid and focused
As if there’s nothing else
in the world.
I try to speak to you
Only you won’t hear it
Or you choose
not to hear it.
So here I am
Rushing,
Speeding towards a red light
Trying to see past your smog
and there’s no use in it.

Traveling slowly
Working cold fingers
Over the bones of
Confusion
Doubt
And love
With little remorse.
Full of faith.

Four am,
our last minutes
before
133 days
apart,
dug my fingers into your skin,
begged you not to go

took the week off work,
spent it wearing your shirt
and a tear-stained face

It was your lack of humanity
How you walked away
didn't say a word to me
and you never looked back,
That's why I hate you
because myself
and my love for you
meant nothing
At least I know who you are now.

I am
swollen over you,
teeming

you,
carved from glass
over a fire
balmy, flushed,
and exact

my heart is tender
pliable, thick like jam

my heart is in halves
half is with you but
I hope you understand
I still need half
for me

Sometimes I get so angry
intangibly angry,
like a child,
and I don't know
what to do with it all
so I drink and I shout,
say that I'm better
without you,
wake up in the morning
and swear up and down
to stop writing about you.

Your skin turns white
under the pressure
of your clenched fist,
And I kiss and kiss
until my face is red

I dream sometimes
that you come back to me
with apology on your lips

it kisses away
the hurt, the regret
and we go back to the start

I usually wake up
sweating, weeping
telling myself,

over and over
that I don't want you
anymore.

His gambler’s tongue
struck every note,
played me too long