each day I push the stone
each day I tread the waves
each day I carve the marble

but when

when will I see peace —the long-craved result of all this guiltful carving?
when will I breathe feely, free of tons of tons pushing and pulling on me from every side?
when will the stone break over the mountain and bring rest?

when will forgetfulness step out from the block and free me from my bonds by saying,
"enough tears, I've come to end your suffering"?

I’ve got a lot of bad habits.
I stay up late.
I drink my weight in coffee, daily.
I forget to text you back every now and then,
and when it comes to others, rarely at all do they
get a reply.
I often don’t listen.
I day-dream a lot and find myself in fantasy more than in reality.
I rarely go outside.
But if there is one habit
I have no intention of
breaking, it’s the constant
stream of thoughts that orbit around you.
I refuse to stop loving you and I refuse to stop thinking of you.
On the off chance that I’m not by your side, all my spare time
is devoted to thoughts only of you.
I’d have it no other way.

You asked if he was my other half.

I said “no,” and your face lit up like it never had before, and it fell when I said I’m not a half.

I was the sea and you were the whaler.
You cast your harpoon into my waters.
It never did catch a whale.
But you caught me time and time again.

C.  kissed me in his beater car
J.  in the hall,
But he only looked at me
and never kissed at all.

C’s kiss was quick, demanding,
J’s was sweet and light,
But the kiss that lingered on his lips
haunts me day and night.

I’ve spent what feels like months in a haze.
I can’t seem to shake it, it won’t go away.
I breathe in deep, to try and clear my mind.
Even if it leaves, it comes back every time.

she was never nice
to me

even so, with or
without heaping coals,
I'll continue to show her
love and patience

she's one who needs
it the most

You came up behind me and wrapped me in your arms and covered my eyes with your hands.

"Guess who," you whispered in my ear, and

I laughed to think that you believed I would not know that it was you by the feeling of your heart beating against my spine.

I used to think that
there were these little bones in my heart, and
when they got broken, the doctors would put
a bright pink cast on my heart.

But it doesn't work like that.

You can't put a cast on your heart, and even if you could,
there isn't a cast big enough to hold every single piece
my heart has broken into.
There isn't a glue strong enough to put it back
together, and keep you from breaking
it, yet again.

I had an elderly lady look on me and say "one day you're going to be a little heart-breaker to a bunch of boys."
And I'm sure I was before now.

So next time you adorn yourself with such a label as,
"Heart-breaker," perhaps you should imagine
what it would be like when someone breaks your heart.

The most exquisite truth of all is this:
I may be broken.
I am not
d e s t r o y e d.

You always talked about falling in love, but what if I am afraid to fall?

What if I am afraid of heights?

He means to say, “I love you,”
but leaves it at “Goodnight,”
because to love involves falling,
and she’s afraid of heights.

She was never one for dancing, but the way she arched her back
and rocked when we made love, was enough to tell me that she just hadn’t found her song.

You said
“be quiet.” “hold your breath.” “not a word.”

Only not in so many words.

Lifted a finger to those familiar lips and signaled that if I made a sound, you’d stop.

You must have known what blissful torture it was, caught between pleasure and the inability to tell you of it.

Color me in the seven
Touch your soul with mine
In our little slice of heaven
I Worship you, my love, divine

Go now, cast your spell on me
Blend us together for a new hue
I’ll be your faithful devotee
Love me, as I love you.

As I sit in porcelain canoe, submerged
in lukewarm bathwater, which grows
colder and colder each passing second
I take a long, longing look down at my
belly-bowl full of jelly-rolls and wonder,
am I worth more than the sum of my parts?

Am I more than *** and ****?
Am I more than the 206 from 270 bones,
give or take a few here and there,
without which, I would be entirely jelly?
Am I more than the lips, the teeth,
the tip of the tongue?
more than the skin and hair and
and miles of veins pumping
life in pulse after pulse as I sit doing
nothing but contemplating my worth?

if you took it all away,
if you cold-shouldered  
this body I have come to
love and hate and love again
in one lifetime,
if you held the meat,
would the milk be enough?


I have fed you with milk, and not with meat: for hitherto ye were not able [to bear it], neither yet now are ye able (1 Corinthians 3:2).

Golden-yellow, silky smooth skin
the color of honey begs me for a taste.
I mustn’t forget, the last time I came to
her seeking sweetness,
I was stung.

He said,

“I need a love like hot air balloons, with passion and fire, rising through the sky, higher & higher.”

I told him,

“I don’t know much about fire-flying-basket-balloons, but I know love, and this is it. Love chokes you up the same way a bird’s eye view does, when by nature, you’re ground-bound."

As humans, there are just certain things that we could never ever know.

How are we to know that there is or isn’t a god?
It is merely belief in one of the other that keeps a god alive or dead in one’s heart.

But one thing I know with absolute certainty,  without a shadow of a doubt, is that you are the most beautiful collection of stardust and bones I’ve ever seen in all of my existence.

And I am certain there is nothing that can ease the fluttering in my heart that comes at the thought of you.

I close my eyes and hear wind and rain slapping the sides of my house.
The windows are open and I am chilled to the bone, but it isn’t because of the storm.

You pulled my hair, left bite marks and handprints on my skin and left me sore all over, but it was a good kind of pain.

It was the kind of pain you yearn for the second it begins to heal.

Honestly, I didn't mind the markings either, they showed that I was yours and yours alone.

So unlike the markings on my heart, the scars of all the other men who had hurt me, not out of love, not out of pleasure, but out of hatred and malice.

So, know, when I tell you that pulling my hair doesn’t hurt and that I like it when you leave your markings on my skin it is true, because the pain you inflict on me comes from a place of love and that could never hurt me.

Like desert birds circling
bones picked-clean, you
keep hanging around here
like I’ve got something to offer.

Let me tell you, I’m all out of magic.
You bled me dry and though
I love you, I can no longer
be in love with you.

I’ve only enough embers
to keep myself warm these days.
A shriveled husk, the remnants
of a past flame are what
I am to you now.
I can be nothing more.

Ice
Beautiful, yet beastly.
Creeping translucent tendrils of cold.
Frozen, frigid fingers pointing down.
Crystalline and gelid shivs poised to ****.
It is only day two of the ice storm and there is
expectedly, more to come.
The weight of the world rests upon delicate, weary boughs, and though they're strong, they were not made for this.
Limb after limb encased in ice, cracks and secedes from the once-great behemoths —remarkable evergreens, landing in a crashing heap, only to be collected once the thawing ends.
One tree, if not the most important of them all, is kept under careful surveillance—24/7 watch.
She is called Survivor—for weathering a different kind of storm— though now, 25 years later, will she survive this? She has already lost one great branch, and others now cannot bear the weight of frozen glaze on their spindly arms.
Electricity is yet another danger to many others of her kind.
Fire and ice alike threaten to claim them.

I need him
I tell myself things like
things will be better soon
I don’t believe that
it will be like this always
I know that
he treats me this way out of love
there is no way
he meant to do it
I know in my heart
that deep down he is good
still, sometimes I think
I don’t need him



Re-read the poem up from the bottom.

Imagine, I'm laying in your bed. Beneath your covers.
On your pillow.
In your arms.
Imagine, you press your thumb to
my lower lip, and you can hear my heart
beating like a hammer.
You remake my ribcage with your fingertips, and
you teach me a new language with your mouth.
You touch me with intention.
Imagine, I let you. I uncurl.
Moonlight filters in through the window and pours over us. That silky-white illumination is reflected in your eyes and it touches
you so softly, I could scream.
And the exquisite truth of it all is,
that if you ever did get to touch me,
I think I would die.

The melancholic, nostalgic feeling you get while watching her dance, it’s like you’ve stopped breathing and she’s carbon-monoxide, but you remember what your last breath was like -without her, and you’d rather suffocate.

It's like standing at the edge of a cliff watching everything you've ever loved and hoped for fall to the rocks below.

It's like being the smallest soul, the loneliest one in the world with enough hurt in your heart to rip you apart because your skin can't hold the nuclear bomb being detonated inside you.

It's standing beside your soulmate, watching them carry on without you as you slowly implode.

Laying beside you is my greatest fear
and my greatest dream,
for both you and I can hear
the rise and fall of my chest,
fighting to keep my breath
in tandem with yours, I could almost scream.

You hold me so close, the air between us
heats up, like a lovely inferno.
I’m pained, being kept from turning
over and over in your burning
grasp, but to be without it would pain me more so.

Here
       in
          your
                 arms,
this is my universe.

You are the stars, and my heart is yours, always, my dear.
This is the very definition of heaven on Earth.
The very definition of true happiness.
The very definition of true love.

As we roll around in
                                sheets
                       ­                 of
                                            infinity,
I can’t help but wonder:
How did I get so **** lucky?

She sat among the irises,
her irises ringed with
irises, the flowers swaying sideways in the wind

a flower child in the wild
her inner wild growing
wild and even more wild the more she sat in them

a soft magic called from the earth
as she sat upon the earth and
among the earth, it whispered her name from deep within

Black coffee, beer
—two things that are
absolutely disgusting
and I won’t pretend
they taste good.

What’s more?
I won’t pretend you
taste good, either.

Is it too much to ask that we
just lay around with our
cigarettes and coffee and jazz
and just enjoy each other?

Why do we strive for perfection—
when it would only neglect
the intricacies of this gritty,
raw, ****** existence?

Dying young isn't tragic because she never reached her dreams or found her full potential.

Dying young is tragic because she never knew love.

I'm searching for myself in a world where we're the average
of the five people we spend the time with, but have millions
of people to connect with, get to know, emulate.
Where we're constantly comparing ourselves
to one another and struggling to find our identity when it
very well could be any singular one or combination of those people.

I know all of them, all of you.
I just want to know me.

-Found poem in Jim Rohn’s quote “You’re the average of the five people you spend the most time with.”

I  w a n t  y o u
i n  l a y e r s

L i e  d o w n  o n
Y o u r  s k i n

P e e r  d e e p
d o w n  b e l o w

S e e  w h a t  
L i e s  w i t h i n



I  w a n t  y o u
I n  p i e c e s

T h e  w h o l e
I s  t o o  m u c h

T o  a d m i r e  a t
O n e  t i m e

F o r  n o w,  j u s t
a  t o u c h

Sometimes, the leaves fall off the trees
to be carried over the
wind and to a new home.

Sometimes, the leaves fall off the trees
to be trampled and smashed into the
rich, black dirt.

Sometimes, the leaves fall off the trees
because they made the mistake of falling
for your charming inventions.

Sometimes, the leaves fall off the trees,
because they too, are falling in love
with you, my dear.

There is no real reason
for alphabetical order
because
every essay,
every book,
every poem and every song
is just the same twenty-six
letters
in a different combination
but I’d re-write the entire
alphabet and
give it a new order
if that is what it takes
to get you to understand, not
‘that it’s “I love you,”’ but
‘it’s you that I love.’

I always admired the lake-leaves
weightless, almost,         with
lilies of pure white resting
atop the water, as if they had only
              truths to tell.
I wish I could drown     beneath them,
  the     light burning      holes in my
spine, through the cracks in the green,
     purifying me, making me new.
How my tongue drilled       into the dust and
my skin                 willed a lie.
     I couldn’t stop the bleeding        this time, though.
I carved a hole in the dirt and poured
myself into it, the earth       wrapping
               around me
      like soft palms comforting.
The dust falls upon            the skin of my thighs      like dew
on the wings         of the first pale moth       of morning.
And my heart sighs       knowing that I cannot simply
      fly away, that I cannot dig my way out, and
that I am the one        who put me here.

today has been so long and so tiring; i think i should lie
down. the anxiety has me feeling like a stranger
a lot lately. it’s not the only thing getting me down
it’s always the same sad songs that i’m listening
to that make me feel alive it’s usually always music that brings light
back into my life but lately, music isn’t my only friend

sometimes, i wonder if you really are my friend
i can’t help but stop short when i catch you in a lie
or saying something insulting or being devoid of light
it may be the anxiety speaking, but you feel like a stranger
you’re always doing the talking and i’m always doing the listening
but there are good times too so i push the red flags down

whenever you hit me up, drunk at 4am, im always down
sometimes its not me, but you rather, who is in need of a friend
you go on and on and deign to ask if im still listening
and of course i am, i always am, even if im afk —i’ll lie
and say i did because it would be stranger
to admit it —no, i would rather leave off that light

but that’s just the thing, though right — light?
i give you so much, yet you give none, i bring you up, but you bring me down
at this point i’m not sure which one of us is in fact the stranger
at this point i’m not sure which one of us is in fact the friend
when you’re good, i’m bad; when you’re bad, i’m good; when i’m bad, i lie
and say i’m good because its not like you’re listening

on the other hand, sometimes you are listening
and its those days when i start to feel light
because it seems like things are changing, like you’re changing —a lie
i tell myself over and over again, while i watch you drag me down
of course, the lyrics to this song fit —"thoughts of a sober friend”
when you’re sober you play the friend, but when you’re not, you play the stranger

i’m starting to think that if you’re going to keep playing the stranger
then I’ll keep you at an arm’s length away, always listening
but never leaning in, never getting wrapped up in you more than a friend
should ever, never letting you steal my light,
never letting you drag me down
again, never believing you when you lie

How can I be so completely, head-over-heels in love with you and still dream of another?

In my dreams, I see a man, an old friend, what might have been.
But he isn’t the one that steals softly the breath from my lungs at the very mention of his name.

That is how I know he is no more than a shadow, and I am where I am meant to be —in the light of your love.

You always tell me of the
e l e c t r i c i t y
coiled in your bones, and
how I put it there.
But my dear, you are one to talk,
for you've got me
burning like the wire in
lightbulbs.

His love was a lightning bolt that split her bones and left her stalked
out on the grass.

She made his heart beat like thunder and his soul sing with the wind.

The way a child trusts so blindly, I will close my eyes and fall into your every word.
The sugary-sweet  scratch of every consonant and the friction of each vowel.
I will trust you with no hesitation.
If I fall, I know  that you will catch me.

The way a child clings to it's favorite blanket or stuffed toy,
I will hold onto you and never let go of the feeling you put in my heart.

The way a child finds no sorrow in it's days, I will too, look at the world in a sunlight so bright, there is no room for darkness.
When I am with you, I can know no sadness.

The way a child sleeps with a guardian teddy bear at it's side, to fight off every night terror, I will rest easy knowing you are beside me.
Your body pressed against mine, like perfect puzzle pieces.

The way a child day-dreams of anatomically incorrect hearts, and
cheek-kisses, I will dream of you and all of the butterflies you give me.

And the way a child believes from the bottom of their heart, that everything will be okay, I will give you my heart, and believe that you will not break it.

Vibrant streaks of green and blue and violet twist in your eyes, like a
beautiful galaxy and I want nothing more than to catch each shooting star and leave my wishes on your lips.

Of course, I’m afraid of being lonely,
but I don’t fear being alone.
Solitude brings its own kind
of freedom, but I don’t want to be left
alone with myself for too long.

I knew what you
                          were from
    the very beginning.
I saw you from a
                 different angle.
All the others saw a sleek and slender form.
Thin bones that were jam-packed with dreams.
When I looked your way,
I saw
myself,
misunderstood, and
wandering. Lost.
But the way your eyes lit up when you saw me-it
was enough to let me know that
I had
been
found.

I lost your necklace
the one you gave me
dropped into my palm
even before we were dating

I lost your necklace
somehow left it behind
on the hospital bed after
my E.R. visit late last night

I lost your necklace
it probably didn’t cost much
but to me, it meant the most,
‘cause when you’re not around,
it reminded me of your love

I lost your necklace
and only just now did I realize
that I lost your necklace
and since this discovery,
I’ve cried, and cried, and cried

I know I don’t need a necklace
to know that I am loved
but I wish that I still had it
because when I held it,
it’s only you
I’d think of

Love me as an artist loves to create.
Love me as the pianist loves the feeling of his hands across the keys
Love me as the sun loves the day and the moon the night.
Love me as I love you, or not at all.

Lust is a tricky mistress,
dressing herself as love,
like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.


Haiku (1)

A tricky mistress
Lust is, dressed herself as love.
Wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Haiku (2)

Tricky mistress, lust,
dressing herself as love —a
wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Last night, we were closer than two people could be,
skin to skin, heart to heart, soul to soul.
You made love to me in the darkness, and when we
were done you pulled me as close as you could and whispered
that you loved me with teary eyes and in that moment, I knew
I’d have to fight to keep my heart from exploding within my chest,
because I loved you so much and being so sinfully close to you
awakened the magic within me.

"How did you know where to find me?" She whispered, her voice
cracking under her tears.

"I followed the maps you left in my heart, and I let my feet carry me to you, because I belong to you the way the stars belong in the sky." He said, holding her.

She nodded and more tears rolled off her chin.

"My darling, our stars, the very stars inside of us, go together like the sun and the moon. And I want nothing more than to be by your side, always."

In this moment, she knew she could never again wander away from his embrace.

i didn't want to be back here
how come im back here

you were the one that brought me here in the first place
showed me this place of feeling
broke down my walls and carried me away
to this place of colors
both light and dark

and then some how we saw it for what it was
and grew together
made it out alive
carrying each other on our backs until we'd
made it across that impossible abyss

but now you've taken me back here and why
when it was a fight to the death to get out
why would you toss me back into this maw
with no escape
no you