everything’s been a little cut-deep lately,
heart-pound lately,
teach me
how not to feel
for once.
this isn’t the first time, y'see,
that my heart wears me down,
lungs a little too full.
d'you know the feeling?
but—teach me how not to.
how not to feel every quake of every bone,
every pulse of every vein,
let it fade into background noise because god,
only thing louder than the entire world is my own **** self.
exhausting.
either teach me how to make it hush
or lay me down
to sleep.

i’ve run out of words to say,
you know,
i am wrung dry of poetry,
heart just a little too buried.
see, instead, everything is just

heavy, heavy, heavy.

all closed-up throat and dragging feet and burning eyes.
building under collapse,
empty tank of gas,
edges too rusted for use.

and still—
still. the heart shakes.
beats wildly.
(like hummingbird wings)
the eyes gone empty,
but stay open. awake.
(owls in the night)

look. await me.
i can stay alive for another morning.

I’M SORRY,
BUT WE ARE A HOARD OF HEAVY HEARTS,
A LITTLE LOST,
A LITTLE SHAKY—
A LITTLE BREAKING.
CAN’T YOU SEE IT,
ALL THE STARS FALLING FROM THE SKIES,
LANDING NOWHERE TO BE SEEN;
AND YOU ARE LEAVING
AND I AM LONG GONE
AND I HAVE NO POETRY LEFT BUT TO SAY

THAT THERE IS NO MAGIC IN THIS ANYMORE.

ain’t it strange,
how we fall in love with people we do not know,
who do not know us.
with the boy and his dog, each day walking, without fail;
with the dancer and her grace;
with the author and their stories;
with the fighter with her shouts,
her fury always undone,
a bravery which is hers alone.
with the lover and her heart,
her heart falling deep.
with the artist,
their messages, their heartfelt,
their blood and sweat poured out into every line.
don’t we fall in love.
don’t it seem strange to you too.
don’t you do it just as i do.
don’t you love deep and long and hard,
as i try to.

i tell you: this day is clean.
this day, the fear does not claim me,
and i take it with both hands and let nothing control me.
it does not rain, it does not storm,
it does not burn, it does not scorch.
instead, the sun rises kindly
and the wind kisses this home of mine
and the clouds give me space to breathe.
i tell you, i tell you:
my heart still beats.

look: i am trembling fingers again.
own pulse keeping me captive.
i think i locked up the dragon of my heart some time ago,
i think i threw away the key—
and now she is burning all my ribs up just to get free.

wonder: how did i ever come to this.
i have thought of death often enough that it no longer scares me.  
i tried to keep the worst of that locked up too, see,
but sometimes the whispers will slither out.
they run in and out my brain
like the ghosts of all i could have been.

see: i have thought of death often enough that it doesn't frighten me,
doesn't make me flinch no more—
at least,
not the way the shaking always does,
always a surprise, a shockwave,
all my old worries and fears and doubts and panic
coming back to bury me,

and it is as though
i have long since drowned.

see, it’s just—
i was gonna be great, y'know?
i was gonna be godchild,
i was gonna be stardust,
i was gonna find the top of the world,
make my home there—
all these things people thought i could do.
told me i was capable of.
and instead—
i don’t know, but here i am.
a patchwork of apologies, a clump of soil.
something full of not enough.
here i am. trembling joints and hitching breaths,
hunching shoulders and uncertainty.
i don’t know.
here it is. i am sorry.
the cusp of another breakdown.