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kaylene- mary Nov 2015
Gabriel,
have we not set sail upon this ship once before?
And did it not sink at the sight of a storm?

*Lillian,
we built that ship in arms,
and when we sank,
we sank together.
Our wood was fragile and water torn,
but I've come baring steal.
kaylene- mary Nov 2015
there are receptor cells inside
your head that set off chemical
reactions every time you split
your skin, like tornado sirens in
misplaced cities. this is the only
reason why you think torn flesh
will mend the hole inside your
chest. but death metaphors lived
and died with pen and paper, and
no amount of blood can change the
colour of the sea. so if you can't see
anything beautiful about yourself,
get a better mirror. look a little
closer. stare a little longer. *because
there is something inside you that
made you keep going despite
everything that told you to quit.
  Oct 2015 kaylene- mary
Tom Leveille
i always thought
you were thru traffic
that you were just jet lag
background noise
the kiss in the rain
i've never had
but what if you aren't?
what if this
was the thousandth time
i have loved you?
what if this is just a fresh coat of paint?
what if god
keeps a handkerchief
soaked in the day we met
next to his bed?
maybe theres a reason
i reach for no one in bed
the way i would
if someone used to be there
you know, they say
the road behind us
is littered with things
we couldn't hold onto
i wonder how many times
you've slipped through my hands
like hour glass sand
do you know
how much erosion you've caused?
i heard cupid
stopped keeping count
of how many times
we came together
just to come apart again
maybe it was just a rumor
it makes me think
about how many times
i've almost had you
like if all this talk
about history repeating itself
endlessly replaying is true
i wonder how many times
things have happened already
like the time
i tried talking you
into loving me back
back fired
or the time i could have sworn
jesus & lazarus were playing chess
with my heartbeat
but it was only you smiling
how many times
have i tried to tell you
how many times
have you read this poem
how many times
have i tried not to meet you
in my dreams anymore
it's like sleep tries to warn
me of what's happening
before it does but
i keep having this dream
where i tell you bedtime stories
and each one
is a different way you die
and in every one
i can never save you
it's like you're this song
i have on repeat
and every time it starts over
i forget the words
it's like you picked up the book entitled "us"
and the back cover
said you'd leave
so you never bothered reading it
tell me you aren't
going back in that bookstore
just to do it again
or will you tell me tomorrow?
or is this the time
you don't say anything at all?
if this has all happened before
if we call it quits
before we begin
again
from the beginning
i just want to ask you
to be my fire
because i am tired
of these old lives
and i'd like to see them
burn
  Oct 2015 kaylene- mary
Tom Leveille
so you're disappointed
that you're disappointed
and maybe that's to be expected
some folks make beds
out of their catharsis
differently than others
it's this list
of things you lost in the fire
or how jealous you are
of people
who never came back up for air
you're crying
so the faucets leak out of solidarity
& someone asks you
why the floor is wet
so you tell them
"we've been weeping here forever"
then they want to give you
a mouth full of presupposition
by saying
"are you going down with the ship?"
& you look them in the mouth
like Leo is handcuffed to a pipe
five decks down
you look at them
like you just woke up
from that dream everyone has
where all their teeth fall out
maybe it's an intervention
a hearse vs station wagon origin story
a clearance sale
& everything's gotta go
or maybe it's the dream
where you're at the docks
from your childhood
and there's a little girl
unmooring all the ships
because she thinks
they'll float away
but every time
she unties them
they just sink




                                          they just sink
kaylene- mary Oct 2015
And every selfish act of love
you bruised upon my skin will
be the outline of my coffin
They'll wrap my fragility in satin,
anything to soften the fall
They will burry me deep,
with postmortem marks of
your teeth
My organs will be gone,
dying out across your sheets,
waving flags of defeat
My blood will be on your hands
and you won't care to wash it off
You'll leave your handprints
on my thighs
and lick your fingers with pride
You will watch as they lower
me beneath the surface
and smile wide
*There is no greater revenge
than staying alive
kaylene- mary Oct 2015
He washed himself with
broken glass, the phone wouldn't
stop ringing and he couldn't
forget. Said they wouldn't get
out of his head. I found him
in the bathtub one night, barley
breathing. He said the glass resembled everything he had
lost and everything he had
broken. But I couldn't handle
the site of his ****** nose, so we
sat on the bathroom floor for a
while and I started fitting all
the broken pieces back
together. I stuck the shards against
his skin, put his spine back into
place. And I got a little messed
up along the way. But I didn't
quite mind. His smile was the
only thing I ever wanted to see.
It was the only thing that could
put me to sleep. Eventually his
bones came back to form and
he could stand up straight.
He healed well enough to get
up and walk away.
And he
never took me with. So I'm
still sitting here on the
bathroom floor, wondering if
the broken pieces are his or
mine. *I should probably get
the **** up.
kaylene- mary Oct 2015
She burnt the colour of poison to your teeth
and you've spent the last year brushing them with bleach
just trying to rid the taste of her name off your tongue.
She uprooted all the flowers you planted in her hair
and she threw you to the wolves
because she didn't think you could handle the puncture wounds,
but you crawled fifty miles just to bleed out on her doorstep
and she never came down stairs to see your blood dripping from the porch.
My baby,
I know she made you feel like wind was getting trapped between your ribs
and your organs were losing space to pump your heart back into place.
I know she turned your spit into bitter regret
and beat the screams out from your chest,
I know you're frightened of the gap between my thighs
and all the lovers they have held,
but darling non before you have ever felt so sweet.
We're both still exhaling the fumes past lovers poured down our throats
*but maybe if we kiss for long enough
the chemicals will react and we can disintegrate together.
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