the end
a bland goodbye
no drums or drama
not even a curtain
just dull shades
a handful of people
expected more
for all that hassle.

i'm supposed to
be the captain of this ship
i should be controlling it,
but all it is doing is
slowly sinking and
out here there is no
escape or exit.

she missed her childhood photos, so she asked her mother if she could find them. she wanted to look at how happy she was when she was little. look at that smile, she said, while holding a picture of when she was five. that smile; so vibrant, bright, and gleaming. would she be able to smile like that again? she saw so much color in her world, now her days are filled with hues of black and gray. she feels as though her world now has gone cold. but those memories of the past remind her that although she doesn't feel happy now, there is always hope. hope that things will get better. she just needs to find the light around her, and within herself, to keep going despite the pain.

Yes, Elizabeth
You were my first,
Perhaps my only
Truelove

And yes, as you said
I liked the image-
Ancient typewriter
And a bottle of *****

And no, lizard Liz
My head buried
Between your thighs
I never amounted
To anything

Thank god you left.
Your myriad children
Around your feet
Your errant husband

Pedro the donkey,
You liked your men
Well hung.

I liked guinness
And port, and champagne
(if you are buying),
And pretty girls
And laughter.

You knew me my darling girl
And I knew you too

your cave was a pasture-
far beyond rugs made of the softest fabric skin could feel,
far along field of comfort resting in my arms.
oxygen just never seemed to make sense,
in scarcity.
stairs were just never worth the effort,
labor always coinciding with
disparity
and
nothing was ever clear.
you were as clear as the looking glass we have either all seen or will see when reality becomes as transparent as our minds wish it not to be,
so that we can wish it to be so.

I hope what I see is a dream where I can be
me,
wearing all of my skin, including
shards that you
took.

Your eyes, like the sun and if I stare too long.
I'm blinded
If I get too close
my skin is boiling,
I'll disintegrate into dust on your bedroom floor.
Open mouths sitting upon a bed of nails
I am not your poltergeist
Don't treat me like you can't see me
And don't look at me if you can
my mind is as sporadic as your freckles.
Eradicate my thoughts with your fleshy fingers
Sinking sinking sinking into the webs of mine
I am not your poltergeist but
I lucid dream that you love me, outside of my body.

people are prone to telling me the same joke over and over again
though the only thing that i find funny is that i can't remember its punchline
maybe it's because i try so hard to forget
what i've become.