how many stars will have to die
because I have wished them all away so
I can experience the darkness and agony you feel
inside whenever I look up at the night sky .

And I am so sorry to you.
To the nights you spend with your hands
clasped tight around your ears because you cannot
stand the sound of my voice trying to get through to
you so you can see me as your lover.

Puffy eyelids and a red nose that have developed
due to your allergy to pollen since you are forced to
stand outside our apartment day
after day scared to come inside to me because you
feel indebted I am sorry,
as well.

For it is not your fault that you don’t remember me
like I remember you and
you forgetting how that tiny scar behind your knee formed
and it bothers you so much now that you have invested
precious dollars into various cosmetics to have it hidden
then faded away. When you used to cherish
that scar and trace it when looking at mine.
Mine.

The scar that is identical to yours
on the tip of my index finger you don’t
remember it’s history so how could I
expect you to recognize me.

How could I expect things to
go back as it was and for us to love
like we did I shouldn't expect much.
But I do.

words fall through me, fool me
into something larger than your shallow breathes
against my collarbones at four in the afternoon.
we are craters, creating something
more wholesome than a smile or the five o'clock news,
and i'm new here
but i felt the pulse in your wrist when you said good morning
and i'm mourning the thickness of the cranium
you're melting away
and i'm tired of your limp fingers
and your tangled hair
i need something more than your mouth
and a quiet shadow.

i. You imprinted my thighs with (x)'s
ii. nothing about us was beautiful, we were bad rhymes and crumpled art
iii. I asked you out with cold coffee and trembling fingers, it is not as romantic as it sounds
iv. you loved my lips with razor blades, I kissed your lines with tears and alcohol
v. my wrists fit in your palms better than my hand matched yours.
vi. I did not know how to fall properly
vii. neither did you.

the earth creates pearls
from cream

and

that is how i got to be beautiful
and round and

everything he wished i
would not

be able to accomplish without
curdling first.

i. you took the clouds
and dyed them, used droplets of food coloring
so the sky would almost always
look like it was in mid-sunset, aching for the moon.


ii. tomato vines, tomato vines
tangled on you
and you are not even mine.


iii. songs that stopped being beautiful after you left me


iv. they named cottage cheese after the
first place we watched the food
network and
pretended to make a casserole for our family of six.

afloat in the starlight flares
ghost tied and eyeless
pin ***** black iris
in your navy hair

paper blossom and white thunder
your older sister and i
harvest vineyard sky
on our knees the dirt of wonder

i worshiped myself on the date of a full moon
removed the cobwebs, swept spiders
with my intestines

laid snails on any holes
got patched up
so the new moon would fall in love with me.

i reached inside myself, found the
warmest atmosphere
and glitter where my blood is supposed to be

and am now
officially a part of the goddess movement.

cornerstone (noun):
an important quality or feature
on which a particular thing depends
or is based.

you gave me the resolve
that i needed
and the strength
to believe i was worth it.
now my foundation
is crumbling in the spot
you once occupied.
slowly
my rock has turned
to dust
and i’m falling down
to the ground,
back to the place where
you found me
before you built me up,
made me taller than
the other buildings
surrounding me.

i don’t think anyone else
has the right tools
to make me solid again.