it's just that
when we are laying in the crumpled sheets
and your belly is folded into my back like the tide folds into the
sand


i keep thinking:

this is the most important art i'll ever make

old school rap,
you always tried to tell me and i couldn't listen until you were gone.

sunny open window naked romping music
moving forward from your empty body music

pale skin but not as pale as yours
was.

when i met this new
person
, he said

                                          it's time for new songs
                                          something to mark this page with

but i just keep rereading your obituary

take it off,

dump it on my floor. let the the sound of the thud

fill us both.


excited heart in the dark;

i know your presence is more or less an apology

a sorry for not calling or not thinking or not knowing how to let your love lay just right


eyes closed so that you can have the satisfaction of surprise. as if my body doesn’t leap into exaltation the second you enter my orbit


this bed is miles long as you arrange yourself on top ,

snowflake lips upon neck and the unadulterated words:

Hi pretty.



forgiveness.

sometimes, the only need in the world
is to lie
on
the floor.

cloaked in a black cave
my fingerpainted strokes
make the silence
pregnant with
care
&
disregard
&
those feelings submerged
inside somewhere.
if a ravenous bear appeared
i'd be happy for the company.

hardwood
and the smell of writing
writing
and the smell of hardwood
i could sleep here
under the disorganized desk
and wake up in

unequivocal happiness.

a hug that smelled like last summer.
'you didn't have to drive all this way for me'
it took me two hours
on the backroads because the freeway is scary
lost in neighborhoods where everything looked the same,
rows of shiny white teeth. it never crossed my mind to miss it.
           how do his eyes burn impossibly blue,
           even under the awning?
'the thing is, i had to'
he understood,
he understood just then that i was the girl he loved second best
and a sore loser always eyes the trophy cravingly
before walking away small.
            'i'll miss you'
whose to say? i'll take silver & wonder if he ever wrote to
             the other redhead.

my mom says, ‘don’t live for other people’ as she drinks a breakfast beer and her orange snowboard pants glow freakily under our kitchen light

this is the woman who raised me to believe that there is nothing i can’t do

her own ballerina dreams suspended as i came along

a small town, high school baby

scandal.

she never lowered her gaze.

i’m smart because of her

and stubborn. i’m not insecure and i don’t apologize

because of her.

she looks so perfect, i don’t even reach for a camera.

the walls are bleeding and my fingers are

melting into your skin.

on the back porch, the sky is voluptuous with rain and i’m crying because everything is electric and so, so beautiful

you give me one of those hugs that makes every bone in my back pop into place and then say,

i’ll never hurt you

it’s amazing how you can let go and feel

safe

standing in the wet street, my feet are muddy and i know the moon is shining on my bare legs even though when i look in the sky there is only

lightening

things that hurt

you drive to his house feeling like you are driving to your death. you make a decision not to cry, and then make a decision to cry like hell. you sit in your car for a long time. you pull one card from your tarot deck.
it says zen garden.
you say, **** that and walk to his door.

he hugs you and you can tell that he knows. his kiss feels small and guarded.
walk the dog, make painful small talk, try to avoid the ocean of unsaid things drowning us both
i should say something but instead i put my tongue in his mouth like it's never been there before
or like it never will be again
my fire hands touch every centimeter of his skinny body
fierce, quiet ***.

he plays a song and says, this is sad and i don't know why
i say, read this please and i put my hand on his foot and watch my own tears fall slowly and land on his toes
he reads
i probe his face for the answers to the questions i never asked

seconds seconds seconds.

he flops on his back and opens his mouth wordlessly
i say, Adam
he says, Kia
i burrow on top of him and try to say i love you but it mostly sounds like hurt
he says, everything you wrote just makes me love you more
and all i can do is cry
his eyes say everything and nothing

this girl, Adam, i dream about her
she needs you
she is better for you than i am
a piece of me is with someone else
there is nothing you could have done differently
you are incredible,
i love you
i love you
i love you.

he says, i wish i was strong enough to hold you.
Adam, i say, Adam.
you are strong
how are you so strong?

it's a survival tactic, he said

i'm having a moral crisis because i'm doing this on your birthday
and he says,
birthdays don't mean ****.

i can't imagine another woman, his eyes his eyes his eyes
i try to pull my heart out of the blackhole it has fallen into
and say, she's lucky

that's when he starts crying
and i feel as though pain does indeed exist.
and then he says, i'll miss you so ******* much
and i can't take it.

there comes a point where we are quiet again, almost calm
slipping into the familiarity of laying together on his bed
he starts laughing
what? what's so funny?
he laughs from the soul
he says, its just that this is the weirdest breakup ever
and i have to agree

he puts his hands down my pants and says morosely, i guess this is my last chance
i start crying
he says i didn't mean to make you cry
i say nothing but i grab him
and this time the *** is loud and desperate

that was the best ever, he says
indisputably, i say
and cry again but it's in the shower so he might not notice

i decide to spend the night with this person as i have countless other nights
but suddenly it's not that person and things are different
i wear a shirt and when he cups his hand on my breast i ache

let's sleep on this.

we wake up and i call work and tell them i'm not coming because of a death in the family
it's not a lie
we wake up and forget for a second what happened
then his face changes and he says, Kia

i cry
he says,

don't.

he says, silly Libra, you are scared of your own choices and i'll miss you

he says, do you want a backrub?
i cry for the millionth time and say, yes

i say, what does it feel like
he says, like i'm losing something i never had

i watch him eat breakfast
i put on my socks
i watch him take all of my books off of his shelf
i put on my shoes
i watch his pull out his guitar and sing a broken hearted song written for another girl, turned into a song for me
he adds new words at the end,
i fell in love with a gypsy girl.

i put on my coat.
he says, maybe i want a guitar tuner for my birthday.
i say, Adam
and kiss him.

i say, this is the hardest thing i have ever done
it is out of love
you deserve the best

he says, what do i deserve?
i say, the best
he pulls me in tight and says,
you are the best

i say, i am not the best for you.

he says, i don't believe you but i have to respect you
you are the most powerful woman i have ever met
and every step, every choice i make from here on out is changed.

i say, i will be there if you need me
he says, Kia, i will never grow up unless i learn to not need you


i say, i love you
and walk to the door.

he closes it on me as he says a simple, bye

i wail.

maybe sometimes, you are trying to fall asleep.
and my words fall on you like snowflakes, antarctic and weighted. an igloo of what used to be.
lay there, frigid, and remember when our hearts throbbed for each other.
maybe they still do.

my heart missed the lesson on holding back
so
i swallowed my pride and got
indigestion

i'll tell you in the smallest ways until the right way
comes to me,
i'll leave you notes in obscure places and kiss your feet

you are the butterfly branched from the moth,,,



and you are worth the wait.

my tea is gone

my foot is asleep

my brain is messy

maybe now i will let myself

                             drift

muted, soft, numb

as snow in the night

there is still jalapeno under my nails,
                                                            i know because i bite them.


i feel microcosmic
i feel macrocosmic
i feel that the night i knew you were > all the deadend wannabe artists with groomed hair and a knack for saying the wrong things at the right times

the moon was full as a curvy woman's hips
and i sleeplessly felt its caress through the sky the roof my heart
it carried me pieces of you
and they fit

people ask me if i'm madly in love with a smirk
people ask me what happens when it goes wrong
first loves die hard, they say
i don't know what happened to make everyone assume that
love is destined to be a ship lost at sea

my mom raised me to be tenacious
and darling,
                              you know it's true

if marriage is the                              fulcrum  

of your existence,


all i have for you is desperate disinterest.

what is there to talk about?
how you clean your kitchen and have submissive, dull *** once in a while?

here's a secret: he probably asked you so that he could get down your pants legally. you said yes thinking of a pretty white dress and that feeling you get watching Disney movies.



i asked a suburban woman this question:

                                                      ­   who are you living for?

hollow eyes as she laundry listed Jesus, God and every one of her family members.

no concept of self.

are you satisfied?

                                                     ­    yes. she said. i am satisfied.

how can you look at the state of the world and feel complacency? the longer i  live the more i realize

                                                        ­ that static is not an option.


girls, ladies, women

                                                            you don't need the validation.

she won't look you in the eye and her
hands shake as she
organizes twelve pills a day seven days a drawn out week
things are fine for
now,
the tv runs, food stamps are in order, a smoke once in a
while.

she used to believe
Someone is after me
Someone is after me and i have to run away
she twisted her eight year old's hand in hers and told him they were going on an adventure
he was happy when his suitcase was stolen
he didn't have to carry it  from state to state to state
anymore.

               mom, you went to college?
               yes, i went to college
               teachers say college will make life good
               yes
               why isn't life good?

stability means being hallowed out and left to an empty room.

'something didn't come that should have'
                               you never looked more like a little kid
                               and you wouldn't hug me.
visibly, apathy became your decision
thinly smeared charcoal to conceal
petrification.
who were you trying to
fool?
'abortions aren't a big deal'
                                i never looked more like my mother
                                and you wouldn't touch me.
in the backseat of that jeep
you gave me some quarters
and told me not to tell.
'i gotta go to class'
                                i smelled ****** on you
                                and knew i would smell it later.
                                ****** is what got us here.
i hid my face in my sweater.
my *** said no baby
i said congratulations on not being a father
you said cool and i'll talk you later.
                               i wish it was
                               that easy.

the kid who smoked *** with me every night on my ratty couch
now has Elder slapped in front of his name,  a closet full of suits and matching socks, a two year sentence and a destination
Apostles who make nothing short of six figures
drop holy oil on his head and say words that are supposed to bless and 'set apart'
because now he is not just any kid,
he is a kid who must knock on doors and teach others that they aren't good enough.

from the age of 8 when he was dunked in some water and asked if he would join the army of Christ
like some kind of secret club on the playground
he was told that he would need to save money for this day
i guess the church spends too much money on political campaigns against human rights
to pay for their own missionary costs

here he is 10 years later
too afraid to tell his parents that he believes in God about as much as he believes in the Easter Bunny
because if he did, his mom and dad would be
frowned upon
whispered about
forever made the talk of the neighborhood
can you blame him?
he loves them

i wrap up a copy of Siddhartha in our favorite skate magazine
and leave a note that reads:

                                                 your own happiness is worth fighting for
                                                 best on your adventures

crazy
follows
me around
like
i'm leaving
a candy
trail

you motif my dreams. and your poetry makes me cry. and i'd call you mine if i could.

the kind of sad that doesn’t fit

anywhere. mine to keep. the world lets so many

ugly

things exist i’ll never learn to

talk,

words come only when i’m the solitary

witness

it’s not your fault, it’s nobody’s fault

our parents could have taught us but the ugly keeps them

quiet

who wants to speak of that?

you say you are

weak

and i think of all the times you were my

steadiness.

i hate these tears because they make you

ache

you are too good for the

ugly.

oh,

i’m not going to be happy

ever

and i’m doomed to be

divorced

because i don’t want to be swaddled in your sugar coated comfort blanket ?

i’m sorry that you believe love is only true if you suppress all of your satisfying, swelling feelings until the day someone wants to reproduce with you

and that you have to cover your most tender, lovely parts in ugly underwear and that on your wedding night both of you will

look the other way



it’s unfortunate that your God only likes you if you give him all your money and hate the right things

and that your life is a dichotomy of

knowing you are superior to everyone who didn’t happen to grow up with your doctrine pinned to their shirt

& knowing that if you don’t color inside of religion’s lines just so

you’ll

never

be

good

enough

for

salvation



and what if that still, small voice is actually doubt

and you spend your entire human existence trying to prove it wrong

by passive-agressively pushing your fear towards others

it’s sad that you’ll make yourself small for a potential outcome

while i’ll grow, grow, grow because i am boundless

you are too, but you don’t know it so you’ll pollute your potential with petty

judgments


yes, there’s a (pretty) ******* ring in my nose and some (meaningful) ******* ink on my skin and your son and i (beautifully) **** each other

i

am

no

less

and

no

more

than

you

are


your high horse has wobbly legs and thanks but

i will determine my own



happiness.

unnamed emotion
slips: over my head
like tepid bathwater
in a clawfoot tub

coil into dimly lit
memories;vintage motifs
where the glamour
is all but tarnished

lips once stained smoothred
are cracked;withered
not fit for a kiss nor a
memoir of the evening

submerged beneath heavylight
weight of regrets?no.
lack of: a detached nostalgia
featuring no judgement, only

the autumn wisps of when you felt anything at all.

lack therof. i spend weekends with

stale popcorn,
hot baths,
myself.

they say the lotus only grows in mud.

what is your fantasy/?
a canyon, i say

****, he says
i think we might be meant to be
and i'm not saying that just because i am
drunk.

my pleasure pierces the cold, snowy streets through open window
as the deepest parts of ourselves mingle
i give him the ******* of the century
because we are practical and know that a baby born into this world
is a sad baby.

his
******
in my palm
is one of those moments you recall later on as

defining

as pure

as achingly beautiful.

burrowed into this summer solstice body that fits
he says,

i'm not letting you go anywhere.

things you say don't belong to me.

they
puncture
once,
just long enough to
feel
familiar
before
the
universe
carries
them
away.

if i were pregnant, i would never wear a shirt so everyone could see
i don't know why i thought of that as i was
talking you to sleep, i thought it and didn't say it and then heard you say, 'i want you always'
so quiet i could hear your eyelashes scraping against my skin
your breath is the forest and i think about when walking and smoking and trying to find new things in the same.
remember the first time we touched each other?
now sometimes i feel guilty for taking up all the happy, especially when you put your lips a half second away from mine and the tiny things mean everything.

shouldn't i be
hostile?

attack isn't my style,  darling. grace and ferocity.

besides, i know i'll just end up
leaking
for you:

unfolding into uncontrollable desire to
be
the
closest
thing
to you,


take whatever you tantalize me with
hungrily

take off whatever you touch
destructively

in love with

this

de ja vu.

desire: someone fierce to be in my daily life

i feel weeks turn over and blow away

leaves under a tree.

what am i doing?
i'm sleeping in late
i'm working on a career
i'm doing smart, sensible things

i'm worrying like Thoreau did
that i'll die only to realize i never lived.
it's not what you do, it's how you do it
i'm doing things in a lesser shade of the vibrance i once

blossomed under

desire: someone fierce to be in my daily life

so that i don't forget what it feels like.

i think i Indian Gave you my heart
with my infinite, innocent love and all
and i think you double crossed me
and have it still
and it makes you sad
but it would make you sadder to give it back.

light autumn rain drops
the tiniest
kisses
smear the words being delicately written:

"i
would
do
literally
anything
for
you"

age
is
arbitrary!
is how i justify whiskey shots on the front porch with adults
singing drunken renditions of Wish You Were Here
it's tender and when our disharmonic voices pierce the quiet street
we all cry a little.

Kimmy puts her arm around me and tells me i am
going
to
do
great
things
maybe it's the alcohol burning up my throat
or something in the light

the
world
is
mine
to
change

but i might be confusing love for

that brief moment when i wake up before everyone and feel the hum of sleep and the afternoon light hits his cheekbones in such a poetic way that it’s almost silly seeing as how

we crashed on a crusty futon after a night of inebriation, smoke breaks and psychedelic rock.

the thing is:

you put your warm mouth to my ear, thoughtlessly, and said

T’amo.

i’m taking that and pinning in to my

shirt.

one man’s trash might just be a woman’s

treasure.

beautiful„,

beyond the mind’s flexibility.

even when your razor blade honesty cuts my fingers red and in the softest shade i mention

that you would rather be vague in your emotions than outright.because once,

love was a nap in the sun

until you woke up shivering, with grass imprints on your cheek



i am the girl that came after that.

and with my head turned just enough so that maybe you’ll touch my

face„,

press against the cold bedroom wall and wish to be absorbed



love me from your thymus to your toes

or not at all.