the mood rolls in like a
summer storm;
heavy, inexplicable,
too sudden and all encompassing
it makes the air weigh down and
too hot for such fragile lungs

the first few seconds,
you feel this sort of
sick, disastrous thrill
when it comes crashing in like thunder,
letting you lose control,
giving you permission not to be accountable;
“the storm in my head made me do it”
or so you’ll say later,
and you won’t even know if it’s true
and neither will they

your mind gets fogged up with the circular thoughts
and the half-formed fantasies with grim endings
start to swirl into a hurricane that could make the trees snap;
you’re no match for it

so you sit around waiting for the flood to pass
while it gathers in your lungs
spills out from your eyes
even though you’ve got no reason to be sad
and you know it and that just makes it worse
until so many clouds have gathered
you’ve forgotten what the sky’s like without it

and you think,
maybe it’d be better to just drown already.

there is a girl in your bed,
her jewelry tossed to the nightstand
because you were careless in the dark
ankles peeking out from the sheets,
hair splayed out like a painting, wild and frozen in the moment
of some unknown dream,

and you want it not to matter,
you said that it was simple, that it was just
*******

when you pressed your hand flat against her back and
rammed your teeth together in overeager kisses
and grinned in lazy triumph
when she sighed in your mouth,
you said,
“don’t worry, this doesn’t mean a thing”

you collected phrases to armor
the cavity in your chest
“it’s just ***”
“nothing to talk about”
“i don’t feel anything”

but she stayed the night,
pale light from the window is tracing where you’ve kissed;
her bony shoulders, the freckles that collar her throat,
the purple-red bruise you left just below her right ear
now blossoming so much more beautiful
than the alcohol and the night would ever
let you dream up

there is a girl in your bed
and you ache with how it matters.