please
be
real
because
i
dont
want
you
to
fit
another,

i don't think my bones could bear i t.

theyd crumble
blow
scatter

pile at your perfect feet.

because i hope to absorb something i can't quite touch
a dream you wake up with in the back of your throat
clawing, scratching
to be verbalized into
a plan
a place to point your feet.

my flat will be painted red and covered in
tastefully
or maybe distastefully
**** art ,

and i will look out the window and think

the only thing i really need is myself.

heart will pump slowfast
morning light and his breath still
breathing; lingering

i finally grew a voice,
and it scared you away.


romance////

the promise of lips upon mine will be the last ******* thing holding me to this
planet.

my dad says, the McGinnis curse is our undying, romantic hearts.



i said the 3 words

and i think he's right.

i was born in a house on 5th south
my mother nearly bled to death
                                                           ­ i guess it's only fair that i am anemic

i learned to write long before i learned how to talk,
probably because a thumb was always in my mouth
and we didn't have a tv
                                                            th­e librarians knew me by name

i was always scowling, couldn't find reasoning
for my parents being sad, for the eating of animals
for not having any friends
or a cat of my own
                                                            w­ords were my escape from the start
                                                           ­  a lonely girl's only constant.

comfort is pen to paper
                                   therapy is a journal so used the binding breaks
                                                          ­                                                    writing is home

sometimes you meet a person

briefly,

hardly more than hello.

and you get home

and you collapse on your bed

while your thoughts run rampant.

and you realize,

‘hey,

that person

might

mean

something

to me’

i am no murderer
time is my friend,
it holds my hand

and we


frolic.

he stood there
skinny in the bad lighting
and his voice sounded like Modest Mouse
                       only better
                       because it sounded like him.

                        i was helpless: i swooned.

snowy sunlight on your sleeping cheeks,
i left a note on your chest that said

i'm going, and i don't know where.

runawaythoughts are   greyhounding my   restless/
wreckless brain,

we are all afraid of each other and when we say, 'how are you?' it is

hollow.

it is Difficult to not wander             away;
maybe elsewhere sincerity is still pulsing.

be as brave as you are bold
                                              he says,

i didn't mean to
                                             drag
                                             you
                                             through the mud.

and i wish i could have come bearing hugs.
                                                           ­               i say,


                                              the universe is always benevolent
                                              so i shall put another notch in my belt
                                              take another step

                                              find another heart that feels something real.

in the quiet
and
the
           loud
in the spaces
and
the     crowd

i miss what we almost were

how do you    lose     something
you
never
                            found?
all that i thought i was wriggled away
balloons of identity snipped from their carefully tied place on my wrist
dissolving into a sky with no end

shock is simple.
can the same be said for
                                                   freedom?

it's funny how home can be
                                                an obligation
                                                a relief
                                                the place where your bed is where the food is where your mom is
                                                a hug a kiss a look in his eye
                                                wherever the night leads you
                                                ran away from
                                                bolted towards
                                                not a house
                                                stifling
  ­                                              missed
            ­                                    comforting
                  ­                              it's funny how it is what you make it and how i keep happening upon that truth

what, in your life, has defined you?

i was laying on top of him and i said without thinking,
''my first love died of cancer
i have seen the empty body of a person i


thought would smile with me forever''

and also i know a lot of strong women

that is what defines me.

it seems like a cruel twist of the universe that letting go is
the hardest ******* thing you'll ever do,
while at the same time the most necessary:
my idea of
hell,
the look on your face when you asked me to not forget you.

i am a strong, wild piece of sky and you are the plot of earth i circle circle circle
never quite able to grasp.

my hair, or so i like to think
        my lips, when i want to feel(that the night is mine)
                someone dear once said, 'grace&ferocity;'
                         my motives darling, are rouge.

somebody told me, i said
that my laugh sounds like blues clues

your laugh? he said
i don't remember
what
that
sounds
like.

sometimes the heart breaks subtly.

the day she went,

head escaped icy window

and screams escaped head.

people have developed the need for a crutch.
                                                         ­                   something, anything

so that they do not have to listen to themselves.
                                                     ­                       i am a rareity

                                                                ­            i need nothing but my own


truth.