I can trace the impression of your knuckles in the walls
and the bruises on your skin
remembering the seasons
but tonight I'll kiss your fists open
let them bloom into long trembling fingers
in this house spring comes so rarely

my soft bodied god
my folded hands
my heavy moan
my evening prayer
the dirt under my nails
the taste of your blood
the lingering smell of you
the last thing on my lips
my evening prayer
barely there
all faith all faith all faith

you told me once that when you're in an earthquake the safest place to hide is inside a door frame.
I still remember the way you laughed when you said it
so I think I'll stay curled up here for a while because it feels like the ******* earth is splitting itself open the same way that you did last winter
and maybe when everything comes apart
when they bring in the rescue crew to pull me out from under the rubble
you'll know right where to find me

tonight I am learning how to say I miss you in every language but the one you speak.

your eyes are two parts accusation, one part anxiety.
your eyes are all I think about.
*I wish you would look at me

I am here
I AM ******* HERE
I will write it down and I will scream it
and when I kiss you it will be the only thing you taste

I hope that it's still snowing, so I can stand beneath the frozen sky
and ask the drifting white flakes if they remember a time
when everything was simple and no ones heart was heavy
I need to be reminded of a quieter time.

It is 3:26 and the morning stars demand my attention
but I am much too busy counting all the miracles here beneath my swollen eyelids and my chipped nails and on the overlapping lines of my misused palms

The first of these holy things being that you are still awake at
the rest just describing the way your arms fit around me and when you hold me so close I can hear the unsteady drum of your heart