Every winter I freeze
In the tracks of Atlantic avenue.
Feathers shower the ground
As a storm brings the sailors
Home to mend
So the tea in the kettle can sing again
The somber tune of you and I
Formed from dust a lullaby.
Maybe our hands were not meant to meet
Below the light of a broken street.
Nor were our hearts.
Yours  is quite fragile;
You wear shoes
But only walk with soles of blue.
I envy the moon
For it lights up your eyes
But somewhere between a nudge and a sigh
I swear I heard a muffled cry
And I find it quite redeeming
I think I heard you dreaming.

You kissed away the scratches,
turned them into rose petals.

Each streak of sun
Is softer then the next
Except for your ray,
The brightest on this side of the triangle.

Twenty six layers of skin on the mountain;
One for each mile between
Your bare feet
And the fire by my shore.

The core of tectonic foundation swallowed words like
I love you
Until you guided my lips
To a mutual spine.

My favorite vertibre is your silent laugh,
How you have to be on top when we hold hands,
The way you catch each shooting star at exactly the right time to whisper
I love you
So it sounds like you mean it.

People are so scared to be forgotten that they engrave there name on benches beside the words "in memory of" as if in some way they may live on through metal plastic and wood. In a room full of strangers is anyone themselves? Maybe just everyone. Yourself is unattainable when surrounded by others. A tree is pure and strong until it is climbed and chopped. Many would rather the abuse instead of solitude. To be alone is not lonely, it is full. To be full is lonely unless it is shared. To share a mere sliver leaves two hungry stomachs. Instead, remain in solitude until bliss and self reliance is achieved. Once you can be alone with no guilt or burden, then you are ready to open your veins to the blood of another.

Wake up already.
I've been staring at the scratch on your neck since half past three.
You look strangely similar
To the sidewalk I've walked a million times before
But you're not cracked
Or rotted like my eye sockets.
If everybody knew why windshield wipers
Hide what keeps us writing love letters to boys we'll never meet,
Even weeds would look good in a garden.
The cold rusted my knee caps
And staining the carpet red
But it was worth it to hold your hand,
for a minute and 37 seconds.
There's a vase of flowers by the door
From a lover who didn't make the cut.
A cut on your shoulder
Leaves the fire burning blue.
Paper clips lined the ceiling
Of the California oak
By the edge of his bed.
Do it for yourself,
I swear to the moon I'll be grateful
No matter how long the line to heaven
Wraps around my wrists.
Under the sand trapped in your toes
I learned to choke on something other then the water
Bubbling my lungs to cobalt.
I'll flick every switch and touch you forever
If you teach me to love you back.
And if the desert could yell
As loud as my eyes
*You'd feel it too.

You are in every flower.

Somber and sympathetic,
the rain spoke patterns
you never could.

Stained tea kettle howled
almost as loud as we did
one cool November night
leaving us trapped between
boredom and curiosity.
Stale bread and ripped jeans
turning us into something more
then five strangers with too much time
and too little money in our hands.
It didn't matter how many scars covered our wrists
because for a moment they didn't exist
through our bloodshot eyes.
Clarity and time became dim
as lights faded along with my mind
because soon I would find
my hands inside yours without a word
and slowly things seemed to fall apart
as months of wary burdened our hearts
because we couldn't quite forget the night
we turned from strangers to lovers
the questions never answered seemed to linger
that led us to crumble
as quickly as the brownie between my fingers.

Do you ever glance over your shoulder
when you visit our favorite coffee shop?
It didn't seem so far down the road when our hands were interlaced
now it seems an impossible distance to make
one lonely Tuesday night mid-May.
I sit at the table closest to the window
just in case
you happened to pass by and realize you loved me
but I've never been very realistic.
The room never seemed so smokey
when your eyes met mine across the table
but those very same eyes now watch the counter
and hope to hear a quiet voice order a chai latte.
I haven't heard it in a while
maybe you've found a new location;
a new girl with set of pale legs
and wide eyes.
I'm hardly a poet
and I can't stand rhymes enough to try
but I never had the chance to articulate
how deeply I've fallen
into your words
and your crooked smile
to prove to you that
I pushed you away
when you were the one I needed closest.
And I lied when I said
I didn't love you.

There's a place
between my veins
and bones;
It's orange
and filled with parts of you
I refuse to share.

You looked at me
and I looked at you
and that's exactly what happened.

My pillow
still smells
*like you

Your silver lining,
                    fading
                    to grey.

We were like the sun,
A nebula of broken words that led straight to warmth.
Your hands were mine to hold,
And rub.
They look
Colder and shadowed purple
From halfway across the room.  
Your eyes, a swarm of bees,
But your taste buds are no longer satisfied with honey;
They crave something greener.
We smiled at each others flaws,
And skipped stones to maybe one day glide across the water,
without being scraped by salt.
Your forearms healed each wound inflicted by burns.
Hours spend straightening your shoulders
To walk among a rare breed,
As connected to the fire as you.
Close to the brim,
Bursting with love,
You must have looked back and fallen in,
To the smoke your lungs couldn't deny.
But don't deny me,
the right to love you still.

Winters back to remind me I loved you
In every patch of ice
Summers back to swap the tide
Of my eyes
And change reflection to deception in the sea that turned our bodies to trees
Floating as simply as regret on the tip of a tongue too timid to change its mind
I don't mind, I swear.
Tell me again how the flowers bloomed before August
And have since withered to stone
But eighty seven rib cages cant form a single heart
Each piece of glass slammed on your skull remains in my top drawer
Just in case I decide to piece you back together
And form from red a sky of grey
The birch on the tree left stomachs in knots so
Why not
change the song on the radio again,
Just in case the next one doesn't remind me of you
But it seems to haunt shoulders stroking my neck as softly as birds released from the cage of my shoulder blades
You live in cartoon houses
Beside plastic covered floors
And shield leaves with newspaper
Just to fill the space
between me and you.
There is a blood stain on my floor I can't seem to scrape
And your shirt is in my closet
Beside the window shattered to grain as small as bone
Somewhere between a metal and a base I found your fingertips tapping my leg
But you took it with you when you left
And now I can't walk to the window and watch you cry every Tuesday.
The rope burns you splintered
On the corners of my eyes reminded
I should have known you didn't mean it
When grass formed in the cracks of your lips because
All things go
Except the smell of sweat on my bed,
tears like dew on the petals of my cheeks
And the sea I gave my soul to.
Salt remains to evporate eventually
Along with thoughts of you so
I stayed up debating if the sky was simply a piece of black paper freckled silver
And if you ever felt the grass between your toes
But all things fade with sunrise.

In the palm of your hand an augur collects dew,
Closer to molten rock then lava,
Like skin on glue.
Jeremiad tongues connect with one kiss
Of the first lover of his kind
Never to be missed.
Amongst skipping stones and a de facto home,
Books stack high between beds made of bone.
Excavating a rib cage only to find a heart, hard
Stripping each symbol of protection
On a door fire charred.
Your eyes choked love
Words tore veins slow
Burning the worst fire I'll ever know.

You are only as beautiful
As the scent of your soul;
And gasoline can't seem to light any fire
But your own.
Wrapped up in twine tighter then your grip,
Pull the string, I'll spin fast enough to forget your face
Again.
One, two, three spokes and sticks
To scrape the cornea of a third eye,
Barely wide enough to see freckles on your face.
Painting sidewalks red with chalk
To hide blood from Christmas morning,
Ignoring every warning;
Do you think leaves brown and fall to die without a meaning?
Palms up, veins sprawled,
Come inside and prove yourself to the rusted copper sign on my spine,
Warning of a fine line.
Splatter spatter dots and scrapes
On the white wall beneath a triangle window,
Crossing a bridge you swore you'd ignore
Back to the soles of my shoes.
Red white and black or blue,
What's it matter when my bones and blood are no longer bruised.
And it doesn't make sense why we don't hold hands,
And why we can't help singing the words to our least favorite songs.
Today I heard you breathe,
Saw you bleed and slam a fist on the table,
Because for every flower that wilts and dies,
A secret garden dances ballet toward torn petals,
Blooming blue from red.

It's 7:41 on a Thursday,
she's away at school,
her feet aren't in the country,
she would say I warned you
and he would change the subject.
He can't be bothered,
and he who would move mountains
can't know how high they perch.
He's too high to notice,
and I gave her up to impatience months ago,
trading beer for cigarettes,
even though smoking kills.
He would cry victim,
and be right all along,
while she would smirk silently
and whisper
what goes around comes around.

It's 7:46 on a Thursday,
and your lips are far from mine
but in my mind,
still.
Still there, filled with words like
now
and
trust me, it'll start to feel good soon.

Still there, singing Iron and Wine
with too much soul and not enough rasp.

Still there, chapped and peeling,
blowing smoke in my eyes so I can't quite see.

Still there, asking for another hit,
and apologizing because you hit too hard,
but hit the **** again
because we both know what you really mean
when tension is fire and your fists are the savior
So go for it,
hit again
maybe this time I'll bleed enough for you to notice.

Notice,
notice.

The mix tape I left you has love written all over it,
literally.
Is the birthday card still on your dresser?
Ironic.
My dresser,
your dresser,
your fist,
my nails.
We all seem to have something in common here,
maybe none of us know how
or when
to stop.

Stop.
hit,
ignore,
light up,
fall down,
get high again,
bend over,
trapped under...
this time the answer is

**no.

Unsteady pedestal,
wall of thin glass
as fragile as skin fluorescent.
An exhibit to contemplate;
ponder and pick apart.
Take an ax,
spare my flesh.
Break in on a starless night
and liberate me
from haunting glares,
intoxicating gasps
as if you've never seen a lost girl before.
"Look at her arms scared black and blue"
"And beneath those bandages is a heart never fully healed."
The whispers accumulate as they remove magnifying glasses from their pockets
and gaze upon streaks and stains
that never fully washed off.
What is it that they love to tear apart and analyze?
Maybe it's the lies.
Squint your eyes and read between every line;
you'll still never understand,
too many pages have been torn out;
eradicated.
Scribbles cover missing words like
I love you
I miss you
I hate you
these windows serve their purpose,
of creating a show from a fragile spectacle
about the girl who never seemed to feel enough
or at the wrong times, felt too much.
But even the strongest glass can crack,
and a pedestal won't hold her weight forever.

You're the light
In a sea of reeds.
Salt clinging to hair
Bubbles kissing eyelids.
You're the grains in my toes,
Crashing euphoria.
A wave
Returning when the moon calls the tides.
You're a feather
Without a reason to fly
Or bird to pay homage.
Skin of a seal
Sliding peacefully;
secrets of past storms
leaving bellies weathered.
You're the mender of flesh
Torn on tiny pebbles.
Each budding heart
Back to the sea,
To mend in the only arms
Guaranteed to remember my name.

the parable changed shape;
changed eyes
mathed your spine
in the winter

follies did mellow;
tides rose
kissed gray sand goodbye
again this summer

earth formed crust;
toes tore
veins painted paper
red as you danced through my rib cage

I can't say I said to stop
but I never asked for this to start.
It was a Monday,
A cold one when you first held my hand.
Well not my hand, my hips actually,
but it may as well be the same thing at this point.
I told you not to fall and I swear to god I meant it,
But anyway,
seasons change and nothing stops the wind from blowing.
It was the comfortable type of pain, you said,
the kind where you forget what it was like to breathe normal.
Somewhere along the way by the rocks or maybe even in a field,
I remembered why I loved you
And cried to each and every blade of grass because they'd never understand.
I pulled out clumps and chunks until all that was left was dirt,
And when I realized what was gone I sat blisterung in the sun,
threading each and every blade back into place.
The difference was,
no one was waiting on my side with a needle to repair the damage,
Because I crossed the bridge to you.
You didn't play the part
You let the part play you and ego swallowed you whole.
You were free to go at any time,
I never made you stay
And the word I love you sounded tainted coming from hands that pressed my body to the ground.
Nothing bites as hard as reality
Except you, according to my neck at least.
I'm sorry we ever became lovers because since October the girl has changed but the moon has stayed the same.
And can I tell you something...
You never even ment a thing.

Pockets full of something
You can't quite name.
Three small pills:
Swallow quickly before the rain
Dissolves what makes you
Magnificent.

Who broke the rules,
Who broke your heart?
Why was the counter so sticky?
Even more beautiful in the rain
Or in the madness between your lungs.
Who broke the rules,
Who said it first?
Does it count if I lied through my teeth.
One rose for us all
But someone got there first and stole them all.
American as it seems it's still unfair.
Thank you for teaching me the sorrow in solidarity.
If the palm of your hand could cleanse each sin
blood would cover my body.

We had different feelings
at the same time;
or maybe
the same feelings
at different times.
Either way we never quite saw eye to eye,
because yours were always bloodshot,
and mine filled with tears.
It seemed like every time I was content to wipe them clear,
your gaze turned to glare
because so much of me resembles you,
even how I laugh,
But you don't chime in like you used to.
And I'll confess that I tried not to mind
that our hands don't fit as tightly
as they had before;
and that I should have stopped,
open my eyes,
realized it was your heart I was up against,
before my greed for your love caused pain
and broke you into pieces I could no longer fix
that had scattered too far to contain.

It was only one puff,
I thought I'd be fine,
I thought I'd be

safe in your smoke filled car,
focusing ******* your hands,
keep them on the wheel,
keep them on the

blunt between your fingers,
rolled fresh by the stranger in someones basement,
focusing hard to remember,
what is his name,
what is his

favorite band,
****, I thought I knew this,
I really thought

last Tuesday may have meant something,
or maybe not,
maybe

your hands shouldn't have left the wheel.

My mind is a garden;
Overgrown,
Blooming far to much for my own good.
Every August a flower appears to shower me with water,
Touch a petal to my cheek,
And wilt away
As each
"I love you"
Turns frail in my fingertips.
A red rose grew
Ridden with thorns;
I couldn't hold on long
Without bleeding.
Garden filled with weeds
petals blocking sun,
Impossible to breathe.
Red as fire,
Borne of blood
Dew turned to rain
Until I couldn't tell tears
From flood.
I loved you still.
Winter came and nipped your neck
But you grew
Into someone else's garden.
And on valentines day,
You made her eyes like daisies.

It's becoming harder then ever
to keep track
because
not even deja vu
will bring you back.

May the branches of your cherry tree
Blossom fruitful and ripen beneath a kind,
Soft sun.
May the sky remind you it's okay to cry
Even if there is gold upon the loom
And green in the field.
May your mind be full of skepticism
Never criticism.
May you remain pure and strive to
Avoid ignorance.
Bliss is achieved upon crossing troubled water
Aim to avoid the security of a bridge.
Ignore cold shoulders:
Bathe in the sun.
Remember wind pulls petals from the strongest flowers.
Weeping willows sway in the wind like waves.
May it swallow your spine
Permeate vertebrae
And pull you deeper into blue until lungs beg to brake.
Emma,
I will sleep beside you until the rain comes.

Your car was perfectly warm
with a chill that wouldn't fail.
My hands strong enough to know
not to hold yours frail.
And that bottle of wine haunted us both,
longing for a sip.
Me, like that bottle,
unsafe in your grip.
But anyway,
I drank.
Partially to remind myself of what we'd had before,
but it tasted different,
sipping it became more of a chore.
And you were nervous to be beside me,
I could feel it getting worse,
when you brushed my leg and said sorry
with an uncomfortable amount of force.
It's okay
I remind you
it's just me.
Quick to fill the silence I reached for a CD,
but no track seems to fit the mood.
All of our favorites sounded wrong,
too much tension in every song.
Fumbling through the tracks,
I ignored the breeze
to fill the unending silence,
of friends turned lovers turned enemies.
And before I could muster a new conversation,
a tear hit my lap,
because between me and my best friend,
not even music could fill the hallow gap.

I didn't come here to cry,
but you're in every crack on this street
making it harder then before.
We invented the winter
to fill my mouth with clouds
and watch trees sprout from bare branches.
I have a book full of poems,
34 about you;
empty words of a cluttered mind.
Everything worth saying
is trapped on the corners of your lips
below the sun of east Portugal
by the bay that burned your feet.
I watched a moth land on your eye lid;
you hardly even flinched.
The sewing machine in the sky
that held us close can't click forever,
neither can the clock on the mantle
and I fear we are running out of time to say
I'm sorry
and take back each rock we threw
before we forget each others faces.
Remember
the things we smoked,
and the love we made one Tuesday.
The feelings we shared as coldly
as the hands we never grasped.
You slid my bones from cellophane skin,
and threw them back to the shore,
just please give me back to Ohio
when October knocks on the brick between my veins.
Remember my eyes?
You took them on your back when you left,
and haven't seen them since.
I want to press  my cheek against your chest,
feel you breathing like so many times before.
If I could have one wish
I would run as far as it took to look into your eyes
just one last time,
and hope to god you notice.

I am writing this as I lay beside you
for the last time.
In the morning I'll leave the strawberry yogurt on the counter,
I know it's the only flavor you can stand.
Don't bother running to the door,
I'll have been gone for hours.
Did you know that your eyes flutter an awful lot when you sleep?
And it's sweet how gentle your hands look laying on your chest.
You have a freckle on your forearm,
I guess I never noticed
because as much of your body I've seen I guess I never really looked.
And I'm sorry we skipped introductions,
like your favorite song.
I wish I knew it.
Instead I spent my time memorizing how you breathe;
choppy at first, then gentle.
And I could remain by your side until you to love me back,
but I'm too restless,
and you'd never notice.
And now I am left with an unfinished poem in a book you'll never see,
so when you read this note keep in your mind
that I have loved you as flowers love bees
but the sting has become too much to endure.

*Goodbye my love.

9:57
Vinyl Morrissey on the record player:
Window down,
Hair riffling in the breeze.
Guitar in hand,
strumming patterns guaranteed to relax my shoulders.
Crinkled papers line the floor
Covered in unused song lyrics
And scribbled what ifs about the girl you used to love.
For a second the sun hits your eyes and you look
Fragile.
Sensitive and vulnerable like myself.
Drops of rain shoot from the sky and kiss your window sill.
I slide my hand toward yours,
Stroke the outline of your fingertips
Until morning came,
and changed your eyes from blue
To gray.

If we make it through tonight
we have made it through the war.

i closed                            my heart                            to lose myself
all the doors                   shut out                             the person
but forgot                       the sound                           i found
to keep                           your mind                          i cracked the lock
the key                           you shared with me         and set us free

Fingers like bones morph to my chin,
Tilt it always back toward the land,
Whenever I float to the sea.
I envy the sky for it hears the sound of your laugh.
I imagine it like the stars;
Bright and unique,
Probably shining.
Please dance through my eardrums;
Sing songs of protection and loyalty.
I wonder if you were a lovely liar,
Or maybe even a poet.
I hope you'd be proud;
I ran from the smoke,
coughed the cloud from my lungs.
It lingered above until it ran out of rain,
Like tears on the crescent moon of my cheeks.
The blood we share flows faster then his temper,
And hotter then her lips,
But I swear to God I feel you somewhere,
Disguised as my rib cage,
You hold me up,
Keep me centered.
For me and you I swear,
Ill chase the stars till sunrise,
And light candles in corners forgotten.
Your room is yellow,
Flowers bloom in the floor boards,
Signs of you all around.
I lay my head where you once placed yours and think;
Did you even like yellow?
The palm of my hand is a map to your core.
Ill shrink to a vein within myself and slide straight to you.
The problem is picking which path of three will land me back to a face like my own.
Hold the matches,
Kiss every tomb,
Saturate my eye lids,
show my blood to me.

A fawn pounds
dewy ground
fleeting feet
defeat deamons
made of concrete
and plaster
running faster
escaping gaping
holes in ozone
cell phone rings
birds singing
silence swallows
kin from within
the womb and crust
inside the skin
of earth below
moving slow
tectonic plates
sway
the arms of the moon
cocoon fragile fibers
from trees and leaves
but the sun set again
like last Tuesday
and the winter before
marked with blood
on the door
moving on
shaking sun
the sea will always
reach the shore
and move on

Feed me to the arms if the sea.
The moon spoke as loud as your eyes
On a day like today
When even minutes are just minutes.
They spin like a circle
But the loops in my mind
Take me back to you
More often then not.
And the devil turned fish to stone
In a lake of ice
Beside a tear
On the cheek
Of someone who broke your heart
In sixth grade.
All directions point to you
Except the sign on the corner of my street.
Since the night you breathed into my lungs,
I can't seem to shake
The sound of your heart in my ear.
Did you forget, my love,
How special you are?
And I just want to know how you're doing
And I just want you to remember my name.

The blood on your wrist
should be coating veins.
The salt on your cheeks
should dry by morning.
I should feel your heart,
not just your finger tips.
You said it was only fair
to save it for me,
the only girl you ever loved.
I gave it to him instead,
in the backseat on a sidesteeet,
only to be carried farther from the only arms to ever hold me
like they ment it.
I'm sorry I couldn't feel your hands on my eye lids,
begging me to see the love I had
before I found it in the palm of someone else's hands.
My lips are like sunflowers,
but even more fragile.
Every may I am plucked from the garden
and held tightly
for a moment in a field,
until morning dew swallows me whole.
As for love,
my father never taught me how,
and the words he placed at the tip of my tongue never fit in the space between your fingertips.
Keep them for someone else's lips.
Someone who isn't made if sunflowers
that will wilt in your hands.

The moon is full,
I know you love that
along with the way your toes feel in the ocean
as the waves pull you toward the sea.
You say that's where you belong
but the salt can never quite permeate enough
for you to evaporate
so instead,
you wade.
If I could wish for the world
all I would ask
is that the craters of the moon share with you
a home in the sky
and the ocean swallow you whole
and carry your soul
from roaring tides.

As fast as ocean sweeps the bay
legs of crescent carry away
a sea of wonder won't reject
the sweetest moons you collect
in the palm of your hand soft as peach
slender spine strains to reach
the sun in the sky too far for advice
on speaking to creatures fragile as ice
because the sweetest girl, dear Josephine
shielded by blue instead of green
has a smile painted upon the wall
off the museum fortress she dare not fall
because the places you venture will seem
only to exist before in your dreams
never so lonesome as an unshared bed
cluttered with thoughts of remorse instead
slamming doors in the old broken home
cover the windows high with stones
when travels far and wide resume
remember your home is always the moon.

She's eloquent
and wonderful
and  always manages to be just as beautiful at the crack of dawn.

I woke beside
a pitch black crust
like the dust
permeating veins.

I sat upon colidascope concrete
until morning
brought birds
to carry my neck
back to you.

I collapsed onto the shore
and cried all night
because I finally outran my shadow
and the seaside
refused to share.

I pounded my fists
into the sockets
holding your eyes.
They're missing,
stolen perhaps
by another set of cheekbones.

I scraped the sky
with nails like coal,
leaving streaks of blood
across east Ohio.

I sat on the ceiling
as the fingertips of July
stretched my mind
away from fire.

Does she rub your shoulders?
I hope she does.
I really do.

I've never been quite crazy
or ever fully sane
but I swear to God I've seen you here
on a day when there was rain.
Did we share the same umbrella
or maybe a cup of tea,
I tend to fall in love
with all the eyes I see.
Tears clouded corners
of your softened emerald eyes;
your fist hit the table,
blood began to rise.
The record player sang and wailed
a million broken songs
and in a flash I saw your hands
and knew I was all wrong.
History reminded me
you were no face unknown,
I know those emerald eyes,
those hands have held my own.
I can't recall who did what
beneath that hazy sky
but my fingertips warn
it's not worthy of a try.
I turn to escape your haunting eyes
but notice, heavy with regret
your crooked smile as I catch a whiff  
of tangerine and cigarette.

I couldn't stand thinking about you;
I started drinking about you.
Wine ran thin,
morphed to blood.
You called me psychotic,
I've just seen too much of you to be sane.
Like bruised ribs
and eyes black as the pit in your chest.
Where is your heart?
Washed away in the rain,
dripping through cracks
so girls below can catch a glimpse of hell.
Enough is enough.
The words inside melodies never say anything new,
but I listen on repeat just in case
I catch a glimpse of anything true.
Or things I lost when the flood broke my bones,
Making an enemy ship of our sullen home.

You taught me the sky

The sea

And how hot a fire can burn.