sorry my time is off your hands
don’t mind me
just contemplating my
insatiable hunger for something that
doesn’t quite make any sense at all

maybe i’ll just order some Chinese
and call it a day.

today is such a day to feel melancholy
the puddles have dried up
but i’m still dreaming across the table
i guess that’s just
what i do.

i do this thing
where i build bridges just to
jump off them
but i never build them high enough
to do any damage
so i lay on the ground
wondering why everything hurts
just long enough to
build another bridge

sometimes i am granted the ability to see my parents as people
not just the person i know them as
but the person they are
for a brief spare moment
i am able to slip into their narrative
slide behind their eyes
and understand
finally understand their drama and their intrigue
their uniqueness and their plainness
their angels and their demons
and their late night separations
i see who they are without me
sometimes i am granted the ability to see a different version of reality
i think i am omniscient but really
what i am seeing
is me

it doesn’t feel real
it feels like the moments where i sat in the snow
outside my old house
before going back inside
only to find my father breaking things
and my mother sitting by herself
in another room pretending she was right
and my brother angry at both of them
for things they already did
and things they were bound to do later.
it feels *****
like i need a shower
but no shampoo can wash the
anxiety from the underside of my scalp
and no body wash will scrub the
tingling tenderness that i feel on my skin.
the party in the other room
makes me feel like life never
invited me to join in
so i wait patiently for someone to text
and ask where i’ve been all night
even though i’m never anywhere
but inside my own head.

i wish life invited me to join in.
i still wouldn’t have gone
but i would have appreciated it
nonetheless.

some nights you feel as if you have to be gentle with the air
if you **** at it too hard it will burst
like when you touch something
you aren’t actually touching it
and when you’re alone you’ve got someone right over your shoulder

ever notice how there are too many cars in the parking lot to be probable?
what are all of these empty machines doing just sitting here?

sometimes i switch faces
i always recognize the one i see but i don’t think it’s the one i’ve always had

i better turn the car on before something quiet gets me

i want to write about
something that didn’t happen
it is important that it did not happen
i swore, i promised
that it never happened
i’m just scared that one day
what if it does?

i’m typing this
as i’m waiting for you to get back
from the bathroom.
in the starbucks
cozy acoustic music is playing
and your mocha frappucino
half empty
is on the table in front of me.
your lips have touched the lid
and i don’t want to be
that person
but i wonder.
i wonder how it feels
does it know that it’s lucky.
can it tell me its secrets
how does it do that?
get you to open up
and let inside the warmth?
i’m not jealous.
just curious.

you should be back any second now.
you might walk out
back to our cliche little table
and ask me
what i’m doing
what i’m typing so furiously
what i’m so passionate about.
i will want to say you.
i love you
right here right now right time right place
i won’t though

maybe i’ll say
“i forgot to finish this paper
that’s due at 11:59 tonight”
or maybe i’ll say
“i just got an urgent email
about my political science class tomorrow”
or maybe i’ll say
“an old elementary school friend
just sent me a Facebook message
and i need to reply”

or.
or maybe i’ll say
“nothing.
nothing more important than our coffee.”
maybe i’ll just close my laptop
mid-sentence
because it’s true.

nothing is more importa

i don’t miss you.
i’m busy.

everything is sticky sweet in the summer
blackberries in the backyard bushes
and honeysuckle lips soft as the breeze
nothing quite as tender as morning molasses
oh, the way it sticks
to me

my fingers may feel like ice
when i return from winter
but don’t let that fool you into thinking
that i’m frozen.

no, dear
my skin is only cold
because the chill
couldn’t find a way
inside.
i love myself far too much
for that.

i imagine her
beautiful and weary
damaged in the ways
that allow her
to sink down into my soft places
and fill the puzzle-piece gap
someone else left her with.
i imagine her
lovely and flawed
striking a match in my chest
and starting a flame in my belly
a forest fire of disaster
and absolute perfection.
i imagine her
soft and destructive
disassembling me at her worst
caressing me at her best
i imagine her
lonely and strong
a being built from
i-don’t-give-a-damns
and let-me-help-yous
i imagine her
there
quiet and beaming
imagining what i might be like.
i imagine her
thinking i’m the beautiful mess
that i think her to be
i imagine us both being wrong.
i imagine that
being the best part
about it.

you’re a mood
and i’m stuck in you.
the way happiness makes me glow,
you make me shine
the way sadness makes me think,
you make me wonder
the way loneliness shows on my face,
you show in my poetry
it’s been so long since i had
someone real to write about.
it’s always
“she floated like light
in my darkness”
but she never really existed
my poetry was all commercial lies
until you gave me something to
really honestly write about again
god have i missed purpose.
your voice is in my head
i can never tell what you’re saying
i just hear the sounds
and it puts air in my skin
and i’m suddenly lighter than myself
you make me want to float like light
in my own darkness.
you’re a mood
and i’m so lucky to be stuck in you.

i spend most of my time
trying to not take up too much of anyone else’s
i’m not a fragile human being
i just live a fragile existence sometimes
there are so many things about myself
that i still have to learn
like my blood type
and effective coping mechanisms
and anything good about me at all
i’m sorry my low self esteem rubs off on you
and lingers like a perfume scent
in the cross-stitches of your sweaters
but you have to admit
wearing sweaters at all in this weather
is a crime of its own.

it’s almost like back then
i took the best that i could get.
now,
i just take the best.

the imaginary leftover confetti is still in my hair.
it’s been two days and i still feel
the brush of your hand on my fingers
in the elevator as i held tightly
onto what had become my entire life
over the course of three months.

and i’m brought back to the night
when you just barely stopped being a stranger
gliding down the steps
you asking me what i think of
this thing that would turn out to be life changing.
god back then i had no idea
that i’d be breathing underwater
taking shots of victory and mellow yellow
as you stared right at me
and never have i ever wanted you so bad.

lounging in hotel rooms and
turning around to look at me in the backseat
midnight flying down the interstate
i remember thinking you kept revealing
more of yourself than i thought i’d get to know
i remember thinking i could fall asleep right there
and trust you to wake me up if the city
came back into view

i want to send you the song i’m listening to right now
but i know you wouldn’t answer
and i know i wouldn’t blame you
i have a whisper confession to make
baby i think you might have changed me
more than my actual life did.

the sanguine red
sloshes around in the glass
and it tastes so much better
off your tongue
you’ve got merlot
hiding on the back of your teeth
i hope to decay
with that taste
in my mouth.

you found me at a dime store
said that i was priceless
said there was just somethin bout me
never could define it
dainty as a candle or the
stem of a wine glass
fill you up and tip you back
sorry for the contrast
you wrapped me up in ribbon
i admit it made me softer
swinging off the balcony
and hanging from the rafters
built a home of sandalwood
emotions made of plaster
you split into two dimensions
sorry for the after

sometimes it’s in the way he looks at me
the boy’s got eyes like something gentle
sometimes it’s in the way he doesn’t look at me
but the crowd’s got eyes that see it all
(and they like to whisper to me things like
the boy’s got something in him that’s made for you)
i think i’ve got something in me that’s made for him

sometimes it’s in the way he speaks to me
the boy’s got a mind like a wildfire like a whip
sometimes it’s in what he doesn’t speak at all
the time’s gotta be right and he knows when it’s not
i like to think of us as magnets though
and surely we’re opposite sides
because i haven’t repelled him yet

please nobody tell him i’m in love with him.

my mind weaving baskets
and my arms weaving hugs from the backseat
so many thank-you-for-loving-me's
all i could do was laugh and love you
(thank god i didn't call you like i wanted to)
you told me you wanted my happiness
where it belonged
with the others like me in the kitchen
i told you that you were wrong
i'd never leave you so solitary
oh don't you forget what i said in my stupor
in my public display of desire for affection
(what would i have said?)
you've seen me at my worst now
and even then all i can say is how
much i adore you and miss you
it must be my most passionate truth
(too much)

i’m sorry i’m in love with him
i know he’s your birdsong in the early mornings
and your lemonade in the humid afternoon
and your sweater when the night gets chilly
i know he’s your everything
at any time of day
it’s just that most days
you aren’t his.

i’m not sure what it is
about being a stranger
that makes them all seem so beautiful
the faces in the crowd
blend together
but not before i notice
every single one of them.
i’m not sure what it is
about abandoning their identities as strangers
that makes them all seem so beautiful
strangers are strange
and i think we all become strangers
to ourselves at some point
and so
aren’t we all beautiful to ourselves
at some point
too?

do i love you?
oh, i’m not sure
please don’t ask
anymore.
my heart is weary
and my body needs to
rest.
gently now
take my hand
and hold me close.
do i love you?
oh, i’m not sure
but please stop asking
before i tell you
the truth
(oh, absolutely my dear.
absolutely)

i am so heavy
string tied to my rib cage
like the delicate bow of my lips
behind the bars it’s ice
and behind my teeth it’s dry

an entire universe
is spiral bound
and waiting for me to finally
take some responsibility

sometimes i have to spend the night doing nothing
it’s sad but it’s honest
i can’t tell if i’m lonely or hungry

i think i have an appetite
for misfortune

"oh baby girl" they say
"oh baby girl
you will continue to be"
oh baby girl am i
am i?
they say to me
"oh baby girl
my goodness aren't you
a lovely young
lady"
but there in my ribcage
not my cargo of skin
no on the inside
i whisper
"oh baby boy
oh baby boy
you will continue to be."

i wouldn’t get so close if i were you.
these jagged edges look soft in your light
but
the moment you dim
and you need me to cradle your bones
and nurse you back to bright
you will see
i’m sorry you will see
i’m sorry
these jagged edges
are the only things that
you can only see
when it gets dark

(and suns set too soon around here)

she said,
the good ones never stay

well i must be terrible,
i replied,
cause i’m not going anywhere
.

i am soft
and so so vicious
my wounds are rarely self-inflicted
more often self-worsened
but you’re making me smile
you’re making me giggle and lose sleep
in the best way
i am soft
and you make me even softer
one day i just might melt
in your hands.

i’m tired of not loving you.
i’m tired of the dry
fluorescent lights
illuminating not everything
but almost everything
just enough to make me think
i see it all.
i’m tired of waiting
for the stones i sent skipping
across the water
to come back
i’m tired of sinking with them.
i’m tired of noticing
that snow during spring
is warmer than i am
i’m tired of complaining
and then being scared of
what you think
of my complaining.
i’m tired of stitching puzzle pieces
into patterns that don’t make sense
just so i can ask you about them
i’m tired of trying to hang paintings
on bare white walls and thinking
i’m the problem
when it doesn’t stick.
i’m tired of being overestimated
even when i know
what i’m doing
i’m tired of falling in love
just because you’re kind to me
i’m tired of not loving you
but i’m tired of not loving me more.

you know that it’s you, right?
when we were joking that
we were test scores and
one of us was good and
one of us was the best?
when you said you didn’t want to think about it
when you said
“that’s an emotional vulnerability
for another day”
and i said
“okay but we know”
and you looked kind of
like you didn’t?
you know that you’re the best answer
the right answer
right?

you talked for a minute
and your arm around me was an anchor

you talked for an hour
and your arm around me was a noose

i part my lips
and in the same breath you suggest that
we part ways.

unpart my lips.
part the sea.

i agree.
your sweater sleeves
never did shield the breeze

they’re waiting on me in there
i just sobbed harder than i have in years
in here on my bathroom floor
and they’re waiting on me in there
where we’ll talk about new signs on the highway
and why the dogs are howling
and we’ll watch an old tv show
and i’ll pretend i relate to them
they’re waiting on me in there

i’ll say i got soap in my eyes
and that’s why they’re so red
they’ll know i was crying
but it’s the charade that counts

they’re waiting on me in there
i said i’d be quick but it’s been a long time
i needed time to be so, so sad
to be so far gone in this emptiness
that i didn’t even care if i came back

i’m sitting on my bathroom floor
so alone
and i don’t want to be anywhere else at all
i think that’s really, really sad

i’ve come to realize
that everything i put out into the world
is an apology for being there
in the first place
so, here goes:

i am sorry.

i’m pretty tired of beautiful things
looking so small in my hands
my worn, tender hands
they want to finally become the home
of things that my severity can’t crush
i am a ruiner in my own right
it’s just that i really only ruin
what is just out of reach

i’m not a confrontational fellow
i let myself get pushed to the ground
and i get up without a word
never demand an apology because
it was my fault that i was ever in the way

i rarely sleep when it’s dark out
when everyone is asleep
there’s no one to treat me harshly
and stare as i lose myself in another round
and another photo
and another song lyric

i’m so pretentious
this poem doesn’t even mean anything

i’m excited for sunday
as excited as i can be after
19 years of learning to be let down
i’m embarrassed to say that i gave up
before there was anything to give

i’d give that little number in the mirror
the entire world
if she’d just tell me
she loves me too.

don’t ask me if i could love you
don’t you see?
i not only could
but i do
i do so fearfully and honestly
if you asked me
how in this woven basket of a world
could i manage to rest beside you
and not wish to see
what lies beyond the wicker
i would have nothing to say except
that the air beneath this blanket
is plenty breathable
to me.

i drop a coin in the slot
at the crown of my head

it tumbles to my feet and
rattles like a safety pin on a key ring

i've been slipping in pennies
for years and still
they never seem to pile up.

you snake your arms around my neck
wine stain on my lips i said
i love you
i got this year for you brand new
it’s enough to know my name
is on the tag.

sometimes in the winter
i worry that my insides
are colder than
my outsides

everyone comes with a poison
my drink of choice
is three-too-many sips of wine
and a shot of *****
yours is the chaser
i am the difficult
and you are what makes it taste better
i am the occasional-unless-you’re-addicted
and you are the anytime, the absolutely
i miss you. i miss you.
the wine doesn’t taste the same without you
the ***** does, but then again,
it had always tasted like a bruise.

we’ve been apart most moments so far
my throat scratches like a broken record
when i say i miss you
and when we pause in the hallway
almost leaving but wanting to stay
i remember why.

as ruas do coração dela
estavam desertos
ela não tinha nada
para ajudar cidades
que ela não tinha visto

ela estava sozinha
mas as cidades,
eles chamaram
o nome dela.

at the very least
i am substance
and in trouble because of it
we are all together
and altogether solitary
i think it’s both hideous
and angelic,
the fact that we were all born
as shots in the dark
and we somehow manage to land
on the board.

it begins like this:
i wake up, and i’m tired
not just the weight of my eyelids,
but the weight of everything i’ve ever been
and everything i’ve never been
i lie on the couch still,
cold beneath the blanket,
until i am begging myself to change my clothes
to eat anything to drink something
i eat ravioli i drink coffee

it continues like this:
i am easily annoyed, easily frustrated
and while this is not my usual state,
it is perfectly normal for my family;
the very moment that i am too compromised
to be the middle ground,
the ground itself is gone

continuing:
i say something that i mean
and it’s only an accident once i regret it
and because of that,
the car ride home is bumpy and uncomfortable
(when i left them for the bathroom,
i could feel them talking about me,
and in the rear view mirror, he’s watching me,
and i know that he thinks i’m a villain)

the engine of his car is so loud
that it feels like a bubble in my ears
and it makes me want to scream
and maybe punch something,
even though i’d never

i would like to go home
and go straight to sleep,
to go to sleep and wake up normal

and oh, did i mention?
tomorrow is christmas eve.
they always say
christmas doesn’t feel like christmas anymore
i tend to agree,
believing it doesn’t bother me,
but i always forget that the season not feeling like christmas
feels so much worse
when you know that it should.

everything is temporary always
even if the marker
can’t be erased
the mirror can still
be broken.

at the very least
i was lost
at the most
i was fine
my body unbroken
healed all but the spine.

it’s becoming more apparent
that “life”is just a
fancy word for
a race that no one is
quite allowed
to win.

the front seat
is having a backseat conversation
and i rest in the vacuum
between the sunroof
and the pavement
we’ve liquified our laughter
so it sloshes in the trunk
earlier,
i brewed up a storm
tonight,
the storm is me.

i am not enough of
what i need to be
and too much of
what i am
sometimes the ribbons just
cut me to pieces
i talk to myself and say
“god i just love you”
and i respond back sometimes
i’m just not sure what i say
the days hang low around my waist
you may catch a glimpse of me
sliding conversations in my pockets
i get home and drop them on my desk
rewind and review
i forget my umbrella a lot
and it’s not like i’m afraid of the rain
i’m afraid that i'll enjoy it so much
that i’ll pull fire alarms
just to start the sprinklers.

i would like my body
if it were anyone else’s
it’s just that it follows me everywhere
if i could get five minutes alone
i think i could find it in me
to miss her.

my state of mind is in liquid
drip onto the hardwood floor

i could find love in mushrooms
growing from my palms
before i’d find love in my
blood

voices outside the hall rattle this cage
like tree branches against a window

i’ve got a hole in my body today
losing all of my substance
but i can’t find it anywhere

i keep writing and all i want is to leave
and put light on a mannequin
so at least one of us
can feel warm.