wake in the early winter morning,
let the cold settle in your bones,
serve the quiet reminder that
all things come to an end eventually.
the silence of snow and the howl
of wind are the two hands that
say both goodnight and welcome home.
the sudden winter storms will heal
if you let them, but they'll also
steal you away when you
get lost in the night.
don't allow yourself to be
swallowed by the ache of it,
by the barren silence of it all.

when we collide
it will be something
like irate ocean pulverizing
the rocky cliffs, pulling
the earth to its knees.
it will be the silence
when it snows for the
first time around midnight,
the muted air and the
peaceful silence.
it'll be our hands
and it'll be our mouths
and it will destroy entire
universes, and quietly,
afterwards, it will
build them up stronger
than they could have
possibly imagined.

the flesh peels apart
find your name carved
into the bone
find me in pieces
on the floor

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.

midnight
don't know if morning holds hello or goodbye
the hours, minutes, seconds
dig trenches into my skin
reminding me that they are
tick tick  ticking away

it could be bright -
the glow of the sun illuminating us,
filling every corner with love and light
and promises and it's really alright

it could be shattering,
spreading our ashes across the pavement
it could be radio silence, the static
humming until it fills our mouths and lungs
the blackness of it swallowing us whole.

and I am trying
so hard, I am trying
to believe that better things are coming
but the fear of losing you -
it's pulling me underground
and I am begging
please
please
please
*let me keep him

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.

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.

kiss the
cheek
don't watch
them go
bite your
knuckles
hold in the
cry never
ask them to
stay never
ask them
to stay.

fill in the empty spaces -
your fingers are brushes
for this canvas and
I am an unfinished piece.

Let the girl I once was see a photograph
Of the girl I have become.
Tell her what led to the darkened eyes
Shredded lips, ****** nails.
But tell her the good things too
Tell her about every kiss and every
I love you, the gifts, the hope.
Show her the ugly, the awful, the beautiful.
All of it, every last moment.
And then ask her,
You want to do this to yourself?
You want to become this girl?
And she told me to tell you
It's easy to swear you won't regret
What you once wanted.
But she also said if
I knew then what I do now,
I don't know if I would have wanted it
In the first place.

he tells me I am beautiful
as if that is my only value.
I am a body, I am a soul,
I am a heart that beats for
more than a face, more than
a shape. I am a mind that
aches to be loved after the
curves roll away and the
face curdles and I wear the
life I've lived proudly - I ache
to be more than a physical
treat, I ache to know that
once my beauty fades that
my heart and mind will still
be valued as much as the
vessel they exist in.

this is a losing battle.
this is me, putting down my weapon
and removing my armor
because I cannot stand the
blood pooling at your feet.
this is my surrender because
my wounds are far too deep
to continue this fight.
we will never find common ground,
we will never be eye to eye.
and in this war, victory is losing you
and defeat is losing my life.
which is the nobler sacrifice?
because here, there are no victors.
there is only bloodshed and massacre.

The truth is
It’s 5:05 in the morning and sleep is at an impasse
With the coffee I had for dinner last night, today, this morning—
Time moves so slowly when it’s morningdark and
So many others are beginning their days while
I have yet to finish mine.
You are not among them,
Lurking just as I do somewhere in an inbetween;
You sit heavy in my thoughts
Anchoring them in an uncomfortable place,
Torn between missing you and hating you.
You are the poison in my system,
You’re that third cup of coffee keeping me deliriously awake.
But you’re also my miraculous antidote,
The full night’s sleep teasing
My bloodshot eyes and my perma-fried nerves.

Because the truth is, I love you more and more each day
Reaching a boiling point every time the sun finally gets to kiss the moon
hello, good morning
For the briefest of moments before he must say once more
farewell, goodnight.
The truth is, my love, I’ve spent all these nights missing you terribly
And I fear you’ve scarcely
Thought of me
At all.

because

he
     wants
           forever

but
all I
want is

                tonight

loosen the laces
that tie me to you
  me to us
    me to them
      to anyone.

letting you go has been like pulling hangnails,
like removing limbs. I've learned to live
limbless, nursing ****** fingers.
nobody but me
changes the bandages.

they say time heals all wounds.
time does not heal
all wounds.

open wounds turn scar,
pink and shiny, then the
naked skin of old cuts. but the ache
lingers long after its healed, long
after each and every one of those
cuts has been sewn shut.

every now and then, the nerves sizzle
and your name flashes across my mind
bright and violent like neon against the black
sky of night.

and then you're gone again. just another
scar among many, still the only one that ever
really burns after all this time.

time passes,
another wound opens,
another name
in the flesh, another scar.

I'm so tired of healing wounds.

some doors are closed for good reason
and some doors are not mine to open

all are lessons
learned the hard way

the irony in loving
cold hearts is
one day becoming
the cold heart that is
loved

color in my bones,
embellish my lungs,
sew lace into my beating heart -
adorn my skin,
sign your name.
I am my own art, yes,
but it wasn't until I found myself
beneath your hands
I became a masterpiece.

her hand is on your chest,
small and wanting. your
heart beats beneath it -
slow and steady. you can't
feel hers, but it's running
like a wild animal. right now,
right here, it beats for you
and only you. but yours
is steady. the heart of a man
in a moment of certainty,
or the heart of the man
whose heart beats for
no one at all. she doesn't
know which, and neither
do you. you feel her small
hand on your chest, you
feel her desperation but
the question hangs in
the air between the both
of you -


                         he loves me
                                                                       he loves me not

I wish we could
unwrite stories.
I wish I could
undo these
paragraphs
and uncurve
these arcs. I
wish things
were different.
I wish we
were better.

you'll never look at me the way
you used to, that face you had
just for me. I'll never feel your
wrap yourself around me, call me
baby, feel your fingers in my
hair or your lips at my throat.
I won't hear your laugh anymore,
your footsteps down the hall.
we won't ever sneak out in the
middle of the night, won't
cause a ruckus, be the riffraff
mama warned me about. I
won't ever hear you drunkenly
tell me I'm the most beautiful
woman in the world, won't hear
you tell me all over again in
the morning when my hair's a
mess and you kiss me awake.
it's like an open wound, every
moment, and the hardest
part is letting of what we
were and that this is how we
end.

the jagged pieces
left behind
are too many
to hold
now

they cut my
fingers
leave my skin

bleeding
and raw

and i can't
put them down
can't give them
back

they were gifts,
right?

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.