August motionless
like a deep sleep.
One long deep breath  that we took together
exhaled with images of green and blue,
sunlight dancing heavy on a water’s surface above my head.
The sound of slow heartbeats in a warm room filled with open air and drifting light.

Your voice,
whispering aloud to me the words of your favorite authors,
the weakest wind pulls the curtains into the room like phantom arms reaching out for us
from the wild expanse
that spreads away from us outside, just outside.

Expansion to be consumed, to be found out
to find the sun and let it fill us
before it falls away from the earth
before we shut the windows at night
before we wake up.

Walking up away
through green forest away from our nothing
to that lake laying there in the rocks staring at the sun
with an empty face
shattered into a billion silent sparks.

The heaviest moments of September
glittering in your blue eyes
as they slide
and sink
into cold depths of memory.

We are
up late in the static dark, and we are
together
laying in your bed perfectly still,
our limbs filled with movement
Pressed down onto the floor with the weight of imperfections in the air.
Hands and face
filled with blue blood
a silent grin.

can’t sleep

So
we go
our laughter stumbles out into the dark
pulls us out, as we follow currents of sound.
The wail of atmospheric jet planes, lonely crickets,
the boom of empty 3am freeways
a chorus of ***** angels
brings us to stillness.

Laying in the dirt
stars arch overhead from the bottom of my chin to the back of my neck
emptiness like falling
and if you close one eye

you whisper
against
my skin

you can reach out and touch them
so I try it
it feels like nothing

And with a glance,
time shifts
the earth tilts
your silent face,
open to mine.

numb shaking fingers
limbs curled tight into fragile ribs
on a sheeted bed without a blanket
blue icy diamonds closing one last time
from the world
and an exhale
wet watered cheeks
a little shudder
a peaceful                    sigh
                      terrified

this is how I imagine you dying
alone
way too far away from me

You left a gap in your words
expanding between your teeth.
In the lapse of your pretension, I saw your weakness.
I saw it.

the only way I could love
uncertainly.
Hideously open, like a cave-in
and over and over
unbearable compression and devastating release, emptiness
muddy and ****** and thin
thin as our sheets are.
Toast and cracked dishes in the morning
the morning
as it came once more
hollow. Invading the spaces in the skyline
and my eyes.
So we got up and sat, down, if you can call it that
down at our table.
I thought it was something like a reflection, the cracked saucers in your eyes
spilling tears all over your shirt
because you were alive through another night of torment
in a shattered mind
and we sipped tea.

But oh, broken doll, clouded sunrise,
moldy walls, ***** water
crumbling seaside
cliff
how ashamed the white world is of you
how you shame the world
in your aching
terrible
glory.

It hurts worst when I'm sitting in a cafe and a song I know comes on the radio. By insinct I turn to the chair next to me. I turn to your empty chair. Dismayed, I look around for someone to share it with. But nobody there knows the song. To them it's just the gray backround. And I drop my eyes wishing I could make it exist.

Or worst when I'm walking through an empty parking lot at midnight and yellow light is dripping out of the street lamps and washing all over the pavement. The sound of it is deafening. I can't hear it but I can feel it. The weight of it pulls my shoulders down towards my own starving black shadow and makes me think of how the white glow of your skin pulled me down into your arms and made my eyes shine.

Or worst when I'm on the street corner waiting to cross and the rain is pouring over the skyscrapers and down into the canyons of the city. Cars pass like phantoms floating through the fog, their headlights flashing on the wet pavement. The sound of harsh laughter and flooded gutters invaded by creaking busses reaches me as if from the past, and for a second I can hear your voice, humming a song about the rain. And I cross, begging out loud underneath the roar of raindrops for the cars to hit me.

These are the lonliest days and the longest nights. These are the moments when I can feel my lungs caving in every time I exhale. The seconds where a tiny black line dancing to the pulse of time is the only movement in my cold apartment, replacing the warm rise and fall of your chest.

night is coming and I'm sitting at my window watching the sunset die and I don't want to give up  I don't want to and it's getting dark again