I can’t help but mourn the frogs, flattened
like Wile E. Coyote after the inevitable boulder
plummets from a great height, leaving him
mashed on the pavement while the Roadrunner
speeds off -  vroom, vroom, beep, beep.

I try to steer around them, but they blanket
the road in biblical numbers during the rain
and it’s like some impossible video game
weaving through masses of randomly hopping life
a certain amount of death is unavoidable.

When I walk the road I can’t stop
counting one, two, five, ten, twenty
cartoon-flat bodies littering the pavement
where I extinguished their glittering
copper and golden-green existence.

Last night, on the panes of every lit window
frogs of all sizes and colors gathered
outside, they covered doors, watering cans
even lined up single file on the coiled garden hose
like they were climbing the ladder to frog heaven.

Through the glass, I admired their rhythmic
throats and soft, creamy, underbellies
one, two, five, ten, twenty
fragile creatures seeking warmth
in the hastening darkness.

i studied your body like i would the sky,
tracing constellations into your skin as you hummed
what sounded like the clouds would when they move.

andromeda on your throat, aquarius along your collarbones,
canis major covered your chest, gemini on your right shoulder.
i didn't want to leave when you told me that you loved me.

leo graced your left shoulder, just slightly down your back,
your stomach wore lyra, lopsided, like your smile.
sometimes i couldn't breathe at the thought of losing you.

orion on one hip, pisces on the other, my lips on both,
scorpius, dangerous, starting on your inner thigh.
but it was that loving you that scared me more than losing you.

taurus, ursa major, both on your calves,
body trembling as i traced virgo onto your ankles.
i couldn't hold on, i couldn't breathe, i couldn't understand.

i always saved libra for last, a balance scale,
over the entirety of your back, my safe haven.
breaking the scale when i leaned over, lips against your ear,
*we can't exist together.

I want to talk about the sun and the way that your eyes looked beneath it. you're waiting to hear me say I'm sorry for letting you go the way that I did and I'm waiting to mean it. a man cries into his hands before buttoning his shirt and stepping outside. what is it about being that hurts us so badly?

I want to talk about the moon and how I lost myself to you beneath it. how many times did you touch me without laying a single finger on me? sometimes I lose myself to the thought of a family falling apart. I can't shake the feeling that the last hands I'll hold will be the ones to shatter my heart.

I want to talk about the stars and how I named every single one after you. there are two little girls, one a year older than the other, wrapping their arms around each other beneath the blanket to block out the sound of a marriage deteriorating. how many broken dishes until they decide they're better off apart?

I want to talk about the sky and the way that you made me appreciate it. sometimes I can feel you everywhere and sometimes I can't even bring myself to remember the color of your eyes. a mother tells her daughter that she's better off alone because hurting is inevitable. is it her fault that she tore apart every relationship that ever came her way?

I want to talk about being alive and how you found that to hurt the most.

how many times can we pull in just to pull away before we physically can't anymore? sometimes you would look at me like it was the last time. sometimes, when you would say goodnight, it would feel a whole lot like goodbye. maybe I can't let go of you because your last goodnight sounded the most real. maybe I can't let go of you because you have a piece of me that I need.

there's a woman on a train, her body trembling from her head to her toes, because she found her partner wrapped up in somebody else. the man sitting across from her watches her hands the entire ride. before the train comes to a complete stop, he leans over and meets her eyes. he thinks that he drowns. when she's gone, he finds a torn up picture on her seat. he wants to know what happened. he wants to know that she will make it home tonight. he wants to know if, somewhere, her heart still exists.

I broke my wrist trying to hold onto you. no matter how hard you would tug, no matter how hard you would pull, I locked my fingers between yours because I found a home in your vacancy. I can't count how many times you told me to let you go, how many times you meant it before I finally did. what is it about staying that hurts more than leaving?

"listen," an older woman tells her, "your heart was made to be broken."

I can't figure out if it's better to lie or stay quiet. when you ask me if I ever loved you, I look away. you ask me to be honest. I can't figure out if it's better to lie or stay quiet.

a boy finds his other half lying on a cold, tiled floor. an empty bottle, her fingertips wrapped loosely around it, and uneven breaths fleeing the lips that he found a home in the first time that she allowed him to. she broke the mirror behind her. there is broken glass and broken hearts and a broken existence. he can feel how far she is. she's wearing a temporary tattoo that says YOUR HEART WAS MADE TO BE BROKEN.

you were created to be loved.

I want to talk about the universe and how it took me to you.

I want to talk about the universe and how it tore us apart.

I want to talk about you.

I want to talk about the rest of them.

you were created to be loved.

There is dirt all over my face
Dirt in my hair down to the floor
Big pieces and lumps of dirt
Floating through the space and air

I never have to do the cleaning
I got dirt piled up everywhere
And it crawls out of the woodworks
Like ***** words in ***** laundries

Dirt is dead ***** serious to me
**** makes me ***** happy and free
Like ***** waste and ***** waste of time
Clean dirt makes me want to cry

I got dirt in my liver
And dirt in my brain
I eat dirt for dinner
And I'm ***** insane

Dirt is dirt ***** beautiful to me
Dirt is the fuel and dirt is the light
Stained and sprayed with dirt
I live my ***** life