and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it

i write really good poetry about you and you don't even know.

that's the nicest thing you've ever done for me.

thanks.

how do you sleep at night knowing you broke me?
teach me.
how do you stay high without being brought down by the heavy emptiness that weighs down?
teach me.
how do you swallow the sweet and claims it's the most bitter fruit you've tasted?
teach me.
because i see you moving on so fast,
i get stuck.
dumbfounded.
if what we had,
meant something to you,
how could you turn,
our love to hate?
teach me.
so i won't have to drag you down no more,
with pathetic cries and pleads,
teach me dear.
teach me how,
you can pretend.
because i've had many masks,
but this,
bled through them all.

(FAH)

they say you should find someone to make you love yourself first.
well they were right.
I know this because I love my hips now.
because your hands fit on them so beautifully that I pray they never change even the slightest bit.
you make me love how cold my feet get.
they go completely numb at times but the warmth of your legs shoots through my body and I wouldn't change it for anything.
you make me love my bad habits.
stupid, nervous issues but you notice them and love me anyway.
you make me love all the way down to how I breathe.
If you're anything like me you'd lay on my chest and count each breath, feel each inhale and exhale.
you make me love the way my voice sounds.
I could listen to your name all day, even when it's my own lips it rolls off of.
you make me love my short hair, even when it's grown out too much in spots.
you gave me the confidence to do it and the confidence to wear it every single day.
you make me love me. for every little thing I am.
because I know that you love every little thing about me too.
and something you love will always be worth loving to me too.