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

i think he breaks more
than he puts himself together;
because once he shatters,
he doesn’t try to piece things back up.
instead,
those million pieces
break into another million pieces,
and then he is dust
that won't blow away.
instead,
he wilts in the back of the universe,
watching the dead activity around him;
he is only collected
not put together, i guess.

i wonder if
what i do or
don’t do
will change the way you
think of me
look at me
feel about me
why do i have such
a tendency to feel
lonely only when i’m
not alone?
i’m thankful for so much
but not much at all
is thankful
for me.

once or twice you
were in my arms
i remember so clearly your hair in my face
the scent of your shampoo
and the touch of your fingertips
coming to rest on my cheek
once or twice you
were an almost that i went home wishing for
a maybe that i should have latched onto
once or twice you
made me think it was close and it was real
and you kissed my nose when
i thought you were going to kiss my lips
and i’m not complaining because
i think anything more would be
too much
but still if you wake up today
wondering if you should have
you should have.

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

there are very few things that are so beautiful they hurt
swimming in the rain.
dancing in the dark.
you.