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

you feel like blasphemy
(our love is sacred)
your lips gently whisper prayers across my skin but
the way you say my name illuminates our biblical fate
and this sin becomes easy
Here, beneath your holy weight
I am no longer afraid of what I might weather
behold, the storm of oblivion
behold, a sulfur lake engulfed in an eternity of flame
I know, only now-
that hell could not match
the heat
between your skin
and mine.

It is
2:41 A.M
( I think)
I am talking
to a ghost
and I cant
quite recall
how it felt
when your
velcro lips
unravelled
my
heart

I loved you so ******* much
but now there is something empty about your stare

strangers light matches in empty stairwells
and they know each other
better than I know you

you’ll fall
for his voice
and the way he says
your name like it’s a
puzzle
and how he always yawns
when he’s nervous
but you never
stop to ask about
the trembling of his hand
as you
roll up your sleeves

Somewhere outside
it is raining  
the very first rain of spring
everything is thawing
except
for
me

I wish
I had the
strength
to cast
you away—
But it would
hurt more to
pry you out
then to
let you
**** me

on quiet bitter nights like these
i get drunk on the memory of you--

i allow myself to get wasted in remembering.
to drink in all the foggy images
of you
sighing my name
asleep in my bed
your hands on my hips
it is intoxicating
and it burns down my throat

but still i pour myslef another glass
and it is strong
and smells like you

i allow myself to swallow your posion
on quiet bitter nights like these
in the hope that
i would wake up
with a headache
and you would be gone