i am done cutting off parts of myself
to give to you,
only to watch you rearrange me
to look more like her.

i'm haunted by my past,
but i don't want to be
someone else's ghost.

it'll be easy to forget you
                                   (he said)
i would have preferred a simple
                  ********
            instead.

sometimes i like to pretend
that if you had bound books
in some life before this,
i was the story
you (again and again)
continued to stitch.

and when i was finished,
you would brush my spine softly
then unravel me,
just to piece me
back together again.

you told me to stop chasing,
but you didn't say to give up.
since then i have stopped
clawing my way through the galaxies
to get to you--

instead, i hooked myself to the last star
you painted your name on
(and i will never stop waiting there
for you to return).

i am most alive during the summer.
i crawl through arteries filled with stars waiting to
explode.
my upper lip tastes like sweet salt and the sun
will never stop kissing me.
i am most ravenous during the summer.
i wear shorter shorts, touching myself, touching
him until i cannot find the difference between our
galaxies.
i am most insane during the summer.
i run with nothing but my scarcity, my self-consciousness,
i flip through lakes algae blooming and throbbing.
i am most me during the summer.
i find beauty within the melodies of my
peers. i dance through blades with bare toes and
tangled hair.
summer is never forever,
but tonight it will be.

&on; the count of three, we laid out our flaws and
they mirrored each other perfectly-
when i tried to take mine back
i gathered some of yours (and it was
an accident, i swear, but i don't mind
carrying them for you)

i know how heavy you must feel