rundown rooms
and ***** sheets
the hum of
fluorescence
the flicker
of cheap bulbs
heavy handed
palms i wasn't
ready for

the tv groans
behind us
a sitcom for
a parody of a
romantic moment

you were not
soft or
gentle
or kind -

I felt the greed
in your blood
I felt your need
and I felt
the no die
in my throat.

it hurt
and then
you fell asleep.

left my body
in shallow river
and city
grew from
these bones

buried these bones
under miles of regret
pounds of regret

your skin my skin
my mouth your mouth
asking me

don't
let this be
this

this goodbye
thick and heavy
less goodbye

more goodnight
for now (for always)
but you won't

close the door
you'd rather
you watch me go

and i know you
wait for me to
turn back

but i didn't
even kiss you
before i left

take issue with the
light of my eyes
the need that
bleeds from
my skin
tell me how
every little
part of me
ruined you

if i'd gone
left that day
instead of right
if i'd made that
phone call
waited five
more minutes
finites and variables.

the pulse
the swell
these vultures
descending
to pick at the
wreckage
left of me

the walls
came down
that day
boys and bombs
and bodies

it's alright though.
remember the
phoenix and its
ashes...right?

eve runs in my
blood, she gives
me her power
so thick and electric
adam never knew.

she whispers
in my ear,
where did it go,
little girl? i poured my
soul into you and
you let hope bleed
from you like river water.
rise up. walk into the
fire. rebuild my empire.

i died on my knees
but i wasn't meant for
that. when the lights
come back on, i will
stand. i will no longer
be alone in this room.

I always
want
to  slip into you
like a dress
it's a lovely
little dress
but no matter
what i do
it's a bit
too tight
in all
the wrong
places

so we tangled ourselves
up in this weird nightmare
do you remember? sitting
on that couch, inhaling all the
air around us like smoke and it was
smoke but it was different -
thick and heavy like it was going
to choke us, but we kept
breathing it in like it was
oxygen and you watched me
bleed out, watched the tendrils
drip from my lips, slip out my
eyes - you would have
let me die there. and i did.
part of me did, listening to your
simpering neediness of
how much you needed me
how much you loved me
how i kept you going but
i wasn't i wasn't
i was drowning myself
for someone who couldn't
swim, someone who found
contentment in the mouths
of other girls and i was that
girl who blamed them and
hated them when i should have
hated you

you fed me that smoke. i thought
we were breathing together
but you were poisoning me
had me on a slow boil,
never knowing my own
mortality til it was too late
and you didn't mind.

do you remember how
we got here? that
map we followed?
i think we found
uncharted territory.
this place is
undocumented ocean,
it's distant roads
to nowhere,
marked by
signs that
say things like
no trespass
and
this is where your heart breaks.

we promised.
and we meant it,
at the time.

you said
i'm sure.
you say,
never leave me,
but i wait.
i wait for the day
that it's me
watching you
turn around.

it's me, left with
this faulty map,
because you took
the real one,
and i'm stuck
staring at the space
that says
here is where
i thought you'd always
love me

and the one a few
yards away that says
*i knew you never could.

tiptoe
just to hope
to ever tip
the scales
into that
uncharted
territory
of enough.

that rocky
cliff,
those jagged
boulders...
they are
the danger
of your
disappointment -
easy enough
to miss
but i still
catch skin.

i've worn out
every iteration of
i'm sorry
but we still
can't learn to
swim.

i knew how.
before you.

the lines of time
bleed onto paper
circling back and
forth and back
around to the same
blurry puddle
and they drip
drip
drip
to the floor
blue and gold
and black
holes and
smeared
galaxy
and grey time
slipping into
the ticking fingers
of an old grandfather
clock
and they fold
sometimes into
the bell tower
on the hour every hour
stamped onto
every wrist
glowing in every hand.
it's happening all
at once. you've
lived this second
infinity times before,
checking the time.
are you late?
are you early?
yes.

it is your
two good hands.
it is your beating heart
threaded into my skin.
it is your greedy mouth
stealing the breath from mine.
it is your violent fingertips,
your vicious palms,
leaving their trace
across every *****
of my body.
it is your two good
hands.

how lovely
it must be
to never
drown
in the
well of
your
own
destruction.

the wandering kind
adrift and heartless
looking for a place
that's something like
home.

sometimes it's four
walls, sometimes
it's a mouth and a
heartbeat.

you always want me
to find home in you
and i am a tireless sea;
always drifting away.

always leaving
some of myself
behind.

always leaving you
wishing I'd
stay.

i think we forget
time is not linear,
and we do not
exist on a line.
we do not exist
from this point
to this point.
it's kind of like
believing the world
is flat. it forgets that
there is neither
beginning nor end,
only continuation.
your end is a new
beginning somewhere
else. your timeline isn't
simply ended; it warps
and circles and splays.
you are not a momentary
blip on the map of the
universe, you are splatter
and chaos and birth
and decay. you are
so much more than
simple live and die.
you are so much more
complex than here
and not here. look at
the terrible beauty of
the poetry of everything.
we are synergy, we are
equally all and nothing.
i am the nerves spiderwebbing
your body - you are
the galaxies spiderwebbing
the universe. never
forget that you are not
dust - you are star dust.
infinite and complete.

doomed myself
to sisyphus

watching that boulder
roll past me

day after day
year after year

doomed myself
to narcissus

drowning in
the oceans of

my own expectation
for eternity

i am complexes,
i am enigmas

i am nothing i have
designed for myself

i am trapped in the round
tables of beauty and purpose

that have been created in
circle after circle after

circle and someday i yearn
to press my palm

through the surface for
what's beneath

and someday i will
destroy that boulder

and neither will rule
my existence

and i will be free
from that circle

someday.
someday.

more questions
than answers.
existing somewhere
like that layer
of fog that
wraps a cold
morning after
a too warm night.
we can't breathe
here, but we
try, gasping.
we fumble
forward, caught
up on invisible
things. we are
desperate for
peace and solace.
the satisfaction
of solitude. it's
lost to a sea of
discontent and
the all too eager
hunger of need.
I can't hold my
hand. I can hold
yours, though.
even when I don't
want to. as long
as you'll let me.
I won't have
answers,
but we'll
keep climbing
on
anyway.

I've held your bones,
strong as old oaks;
felt your blood
rushing like rivers
beneath the skin.
felt the constellations
of your fingertips
and the hurricane
of your heartbeat.

you are a universe
in flesh.

can we take a moment?
pause.
rewind.
unwind.
we didn't
stumble into
this mess by
accident
and the threads
are so tangled
my fingertips
are bleeding
from trying
to unweave them.
and don't
misunderstand -
we're here
knee deep
in misunderstanding
and I've
never wanted
to be anywhere
else.

you tear me apart
piece by piece
yet how peacefully
you sleep

he says good morning but
i'm already thinking about good night.
we are bathed in rising sun
but I already crave moonlight.
it's easier to tell hard truths
in the dark, but he's waiting.
he's waiting for me to shed
the skin of this version of me,
the one who shuts her mouth
when she should scream.
and I know this, that he'd
rather listen to me scream
than drown in my silence.
but it's like I've swallowed cement.
and he's looking at me,
he's looking at me,
and his face is filling first with
hurt and anguish
and I know he's thinking
I did something wrong
she doesn't trust me
and I watch it transform
into anger because he's afraid
that both those things are
true, that one night when
I'm silent in the dark,
both of us waiting for me
to say something, anything,
I'm going to slide out
between the shadows
and in the morning he'll say it again
good morning
but the bed will be empty.
and I'm afraid of the very same,
that one day he'll tire of my
sleeping tongue, tire of the
girl too broken to put herself
back together, and I'll wake up
to a cold bed and a silence
that is not my own making.
and somehow we're both
afraid that
goodnight
goodmorning
will become
goodbye, never said,
just left behind, like a ghost
in the bed we used to share.

I'm a puzzle
missing pieces.
probably never
going to find
them.

that's okay, though,
because you are
too.

and our puzzles
seem to look
a lot alike

and when we
put our left over
pieces together
we made
a pretty picture.

did you love me?
did you ever love me?
I was a bath to clean
your ego. I was the
food when you were
hungry. I was an open
mouth when you
needed to feel
good. I was something
to you, when you
needed it. I was something,
even when I was
nothing. I think maybe
you wanted to love me.
I think maybe
you never knew how.
I think maybe you never
loved anything
in your life.
so maybe you tried.
maybe you could.
but you did what you
do best. you lied and
you broke me, just
like you've done to
everything you've
ever "loved."

and you missed me
when I left, because
I made you feel whole.
I made you feel like
you didn't break everything
you touched. I made
you feel like you weren't
as worthless as you were.
I made you feel,
I was the love
you wanted to feel.
and when I left,
I left you a husk.

and I'm not sorry.
I fed you, and you
starved me. but nothing
could fill you. so I left
while I still had something of
myself.

and I hope you crumbled.
I hope you are ash.
and I hope you never
ever rise.

we waited.
we waited.
we fought like
hell to find
our power,
to live our life
standing up straight.

they cut us down,
died on our knees.
they laughed
at our
black dahlia
smiles,
helped us
tie
our columbian
neck ties -
they wanted us
to look nice,
you know?

our hearts tick like
wind up toys,
parading up and
down the sidewalks
manipulated by
little fingers,
little laughs.

our lives on stage,
a dollhouse,
on display.

we said goodbye
in riddles, and
I always swore
I'd be the one to leave
that I'd never
watch you go

but my heart is a
wind up toy,
ticking and naive
and my mouth
wears a doll's smile
and god
I loved you.

and when you left,
I stood on the doorstep
watching you round
the corner.
the wind up toys
reached the end
of their turn, our
ceramic hands
clapping til they
crumbled.

I waited for you to
look back, to look
at me once more.

you never did.

their sound is cacophony
buried deep in the trenches  
of your mind. they say it's
like a prison these days,
wounds and warriors
bound tight by the old
vines of loss and loneliness.
you look in the mirror
and you see the pale
reflection of a ghost,
someone you used to be,
the soul of life so long
gone that her shape is
tenuous at best, a translucent
curtain between this life
and another, one where maybe
you didn't live as an empty
vessel desperate for meaning.
maybe in that life you didn't
live as an undoing. the fractured
lines of this life are smooth
glass there, unmarred by
want and need, unbroken.
in another life,
you are clean.

I am not
your bitterness.

you.
you left a
bad taste
in my mouth -
your name,
remembering
the selfishness
of every kiss,
the greed in
every touch.
your poison
will not leave
my system -
I cannot forget
you, and that is
not sweet sentiment.
I cannot forget you
in the way someone
can't forget losing a
limb. I can't forget
you in the way you
look at a scar and
remember how the
wound ached and
bled. you're not
scar, though -
you're festering
wound that will
not heal. you're
bone deep infection,
spreading cancer,
airborne disease,
harming every facet
of my life. I can't
close my eyes without
remembering your
fists, without hearing
the sharp tenor of your
yelling voice. I can't
think of you without
shrinking into myself.
you were never
supposed to have
this power over me.
freeing myself from
you was supposed
to free me,
and ******* it
I am free, you are
no longer destroying
my life. but *******
you for haunting me,
******* you.

cliche little broken heart -
I used to watch airplanes
crawl through the clouds
above me, wishing I was on
them. no particular
care about destination,
just soaring above the ground
anywhere but here.
anyone but me.

these days, I look up
and I see planes and they
are simply planes on their
way to some far away place
and there's no part of me
that would be anywhere
but here

in this place with you,
this place where your hand
fits so perfectly into
the curve of my hip,
where your mouth so
perfectly lies against
the curve of my neck.

take me down,
down to the knee.
spill my blood,
smear me across
canvas. let me
bend like soft
wood, twine
my roots through
earth and body.
flood me like
waterfall, cascading
down the jutting
cliffs of your ever
sharpening body.
let me rise like mist,
disappearing
into cold dark sky
absorbed into
the atmosphere,
into the everything
and the nothing
where I belong.

her silhouette behind the shower curtain
her dress on the bed
she sings while she dries her hair
swears when she smears her
makeup

the shadows of her life are
all over this place
they mingle dissonantly
with mine

and yet I find her chaos
bleeding all over my order
to be the most beautiful
form of life
I've ever been
exposed to

and so this morning
instead of complaining about
the mess
I kiss her soft face
and she smiles
and everything is alright

every so often,
we lose the fight.
the night sky disappears
behind thick cloud,
and we lose the light.
and the rest of the world
seeps in like thick smoke,
and we can't ignore
the raging fire out there
anymore.

you ask me a thousand times,
please take my hand,
and even though
you're within reach,
I let it go.
I won't mean to, but I
let go.

I don't know how to tell you
but you're my glue.
I'm sorry I came to you in
sharp shards and broken pieces
and sometimes those pieces cut you,
but you're my glue.
you're the thing that holds all
those little bits of me together.
you keep me whole and
you keep me sane
and you'll never know
but you're my glue.

his fingertips graze my skin
and those few moments are enough
to touch every little
corner of my existence

I stitched my bones together,
repainted my skin.
and yet somehow
the monsters still creep in.

when I let go,
universes fall away.
I found myself in
this sort of abyss,
floating somewhere that
is and is not. I am
no longer broken bones,
severed spine. I am
transcendent, I am
luminescent, omniscent.
I am everything,
I am nothing,
I simply
am and this
weightlessness
is more than divine,
it is the universe coming
to its conclusion, it is
beautiful combustion
it is starting over.

I am clean.

it comes in waves of loss and longing -
the bitterest taste of realizing
I will always be this way. I write
letters of apology to the ones
I love, because I will always be
this way. letting go is a battle
of blood and arms, and god
sometimes it takes years. they
still don't see my scars when
I think about all that I've lost
and all I've had to let go, and
the graveyards of all those things
I was so desperate for but
never quite got to hold on to.
when I lay alone, in my quietest
moments, all I can seem to grab
onto are barbed wire thoughts
and I know it shouldn't be like this.
I am a whole girl, I worked so hard
to put myself together, but it still
feels sometimes like I put myself
back together with tape and
I feel those pieces of me starting
to drift apart again and I wonder
if I'll ever actually be whole, if
I'll ever see the version of myself
with the golden veins of glue
that hold me together - she was
broken, but she still fills. and I'm
sorry I can't help but fall apart.
these days it happens less and less,
but god I gave away so much of myself
and I got back so little that it's like
starting over and over and over again,
and I'm trying so hard. I am, please
believe me: I am trying to be whole
for all of you, because you've loved
me so kindly and thoughtfully and I
want to be whole for the sake of us
all. I don't want to be the ******* the
bathroom floor falling apart at three
in the morning. I hate her, I hate
that she still lives in me, I hate that
she still thinks of the boy that broke
us so uttery and completely that he
stains everything I continue to touch.
I hate that I have something here
in my hands so wonderful and new
and all I can think about is how
soon this, too, will ******* break. I don't
want to live this life looking around
every corner, waiting for my next
ruin. let me live, let me be whole,
let me that broken girl who still
shines in golden puzzle pieces
because *******,
she is whole.

fits and
starts
where I end
where you
begin
the lines
are intangible
my fingers
grasp
desperate
for something
to hold
on to
for fear
that we
will start
to slip
before
we even
begin to
solidify
because
because
because
this kind
of bliss
is foreign
to me
it is
new and
terrifying
and it
feels so
so impermanent

because these good things are almost always preface to my ruin and my heart slows in anticipation, in dread, because I'm waiting for that culmination.

because
nothing
good ever
stays.

those little words,
and the ones
that came after -
I'm sorry
I made you wait.
your hands in
my hair,
your hands
at my waist -
*but I know
I'm sure.

I spent the better part of our
four years wishing for a miracle
so we could have our happy
ending

how funny to find my miracle
was waking up to realize
I deserve better

and to find that my happy
ending should be much
more than an ending

and that I need no one's
company for that
but my own

you broke me, you know.
it doesn't matter, though.
I've never really been whole
but you left me more of a
battlefield than I've ever
been, and it wasn't until
I was looking at the wreckage
that I really understood
the casualties. and I hate
you for it. I hate that I stand
on the precipice of happiness
and wholeness, and all I can
really see is that battlefield.
all I can really feel is that
vast terrifying emptiness
and not enoughness that you
drowned me in for years. all
I feel is the terror that I'm
going to **** this up,
because I'm not enough. that
I'm going to be left behind
because I'm worth nothing
to no one. and god I never
want to go back to being that
girl I was when I was with you,
the girl whose worth depends
on who she's with. I hated
her. I hated how she catered
to your every whim, I hated
how she swallowed her pride
and her heart every single day
so you could feel good.
you ****** me up and
I don't know how to undo
those years of degrading and
shame and cheating and
lies and anger and misery
and it's the ******* worst
story in the world. the girl
who stayed in the terrible
relationship, and now,
staring down the barrel
of something good,
all I want to do is run.

******* for that.
******* for everything.

he'll wipe the blood from your
chin, tell you you're beautiful
even when your smile splits
from ear to ear. he'll sew your
cheeks back together, tell you
it's okay that your lungs
occasionally collapse and it's
okay that sometimes you
can't breathe, because he'll
fill you with life when you
can't do it yourself and when
you apologize for smearing
your existence all over him,
when you apologize for what
a mess you are, when you
apologize for not being
better, he'll gently take
your face in his palms,
he'll tell you what a beautiful
thing you are, that you're his
mess, and god, baby girl,
you're so worth it.

darling little dolls,
suspended above the stage,
the scuffed toes of their dance shoes
just barely reaching the floor
and I watch you make
them dance, watch their
painted smiles and sad eyes
and their undying loyalty
to the grace of your fingers,
the turn of your wrist.
they dare not ask if you truly
love them, or if you love the
applause at the end
of every performance.

I could tell them, could tell
them about the night I
snuck into the empty
theater, long after the
crowd had emptied and
the lights had gone
out. I saw them lying there,
lifeless without your
careful direction,
left in a heap - unloved,
useless now,
and I'm sure you were off
somewhere, those fingers
bringing some other girls
with painted smiles and
sad eyes
to life.

did you know?
when you laid hands
on this fire skin the
flames that licked
underneath?
did you see the
way your palm
seared itself into
my skin? marks like
that rarely last
but days and
days
and days
later,
that mark is
still there

and god, I realized
how you pulled
me out of that
burning abyss
I realized
you
saved me
from drowning
in this ocean
of myself
and I can't
thank you
enough
but god I'm
sorry for the
way things still come
out of my mouth
like terrified
little
whispers

I'm sorry I'm
still wading in this
river of fear
because I know
you're nothing
like what
came
before
you
but I'm scared
I'm still
there
you know?
that girl
from before
and I are
nothing alike these days but I feel her sometimes creeping under my skin telling me you loved a monster you are a monster he'll never love you nothing will ever be okay just wait for the day he leaves and you forget how to catch your breath

I don't know how to
shut her up, but I know
neither of us deserves
her breathing down our
necks
but know
just know
I am
so grateful
for the way
you don't
put me
back together
but the way you
hold onto me
while I do
it
my
*self

standing in your bathroom,
staring down my own reflection,
at odds with your words and
my own thoughts - the ones where
I don't see the beauty you do,
the ones where you don't feel
the feelings I see in you. that ***
sits in my belly, warm and brave
and desperate for something
else, something you don't want
to offer too soon. you're out there,
quiet and waiting. waiting,
god knows what for. waiting
for the right time, waiting
for the spark of something.
yet no one knows the feel
of my skin better than you,
nor do they know the curve of
my hip. and so you wait. and so
I wait.
and I hope.
the *** in my belly
warms the cold need in my bones
and I will come back to you,
desperate and willing
but still,
you wait.

we are Here.
the little red dot
on the map that says,
you are Here.
but it's almost like
undefined territory
on the map, it's almost
like we're on some new
street that's not on
a map yet. our little
Here dot is floating
out in the middle of
the ocean, it's planted
in the middle of
absolute nowhere
and maybe that's
what we are:
nowhere and nothing.

but god, I'm looking at this
map, and I'm looking at you
and I don't care about any
map. I don't care if we're
planted on it, I don't
care if we are Here or
There or Anywhere
because I'm looking at
you, and you have those
eyes of permanence, those
endless pits of dark
abyss that I want to drown
in and this map means
nothing to me because
you are Here and I am
Here and if we are in the
middle of a ******* ocean
I am begging you to dive.

I emptied myself for
so many of you, only
to realize you were
more than happy to
see my bones
at their barest
and leave me in
pieces, carrying
away the parts that
matter most and leaving
me nothing
in return.

i feel it happening.
i feel myself
falling down that
veritable rabbit hole of
feelings and
vulnerability and
you
and that's
a ******* terrifying
thing, just a dangerous
******* place to be
because god knows
if you'll catch me
or you'll just let
me hit the ground.
not even the ground,
it's like tipping
backwards off this
cliff ledge,
not knowing
whether there's
merciful water down
there to catch me
or jagged angry rocks
waiting to rip me
to pieces.

they gut you, sometimes.
like little fish, like hunted
deer - they don't mean to.
you were the deer they
clipped on the highway,
you were the fish too sick
to release after catch. and
they hold on, they try
to save you. but in the end
the true mercy is the true
end, and so they gut you.

do you understand? did
you see the way I poured
myself out for you? an
ocean of love and want and
need, and it was just food
for the dirt. I ripped myself
open, you ripped me open,
and now this carcass needs
disposal. I don't imagine
I'm worth a wake, hardly
a moment of silence. the
trash heap out back seems
to be a nice enough
place.

is it too soon to say this?
is it too soon to ask you
to stay? I dreamed about
you again last night,
fourth time this week. it
was hardly worth mentioning,
except the way you looked at
me, like maybe I'll never
have to ask you to stay,
because you'll do it anyway.
I don't want you to be a passing
ship, making quiet waves in
the middle of the night, only
to sail away sometime in
the early morning without
saying goodbye. I want to be
your harbor, I want to be the
place you land and realize
this, this place here, was always
meant to be your last stop.
ship becomes house becomes
home. is it too soon to say
this? you know I didn't mean
for this. everything tears
me to shreds, wanting something
so tenuous rips me to shreds
but god, there's something about
you that makes me want anchor.
it makes me want to hold on
for dear life, even if it means
sinking and drowning,
becoming yet another
skeleton laid to rest on
your ocean floor, miles and
miles deep and irretrievable.
it's just that when I close my
eyes, I smell you on my skin.
it's just that when I close my
eyes, I find myself still getting
lost in the bottomless abysses
that are your eyes and I could
stay there forever,
in that dark and beautiful
abyss.

is it too soon to say this?

tell me to let go.
tell you it's like
amputation - yes,
I can learn to live
without that limb
but god, I am
never whole again.
I never liked how
easy it was for you
to strip me of my
choices. never liked
the way your hand
was like tape over
my mouth, the way
you draped your
marionette strings
all over my body.
that cage you built,
I outgrew it faster
than you could have
imagined. it's funny
how easily you erased
me; it's funny, you told
me my love was like
tattoo, permanent and
forever on your skin
but it seems like you
erased it easy as pencil
lead. it's easy to forget
about us, we were so
forgetable. it was
easy to let you go.
I loved you. did I love
you? it's easier to ask
if you loved me, and
I think the answer
to that question is as
complex and complicated
and infinite as this
universe we live in:
yes and no and never
and always. you didn't
fight until I walked
away, and even then
those pulls on that fishing
line were lackluster at
best, and when the line
snapped, you watched
me drift away, like a ship
you never quite planned to
board. or maybe that
was me, watching you
sail away on your little
ship for one. it was supposed
to be for both of us,
but I think it was always
only big enough for you.
it's almost
impossible to disentangle
these wires between us -
the ones where we loved,
the ones where we didn't,
the ones where you left,
and the the last one where
I left. it doesn't matter,
really. our story was
so much ugly, so much
loneliness and anger.

it wasn't like losing a limb,
losing you. it was
more like losing an
entire layer of myself,
a layer I didn't realize
I'd outgrown until I was
looking at its tattered
hems and all the rips
and scars, and how it
stopped fitting so long
ago. I threw it out
the other night, and
my god I didn't think
twice.