You are the triangle in my Pythagorean Theorem.

Circles may be never-ending,
but I would rather be quite clear on our angles and
all that other nonsense.

I'd rather be equivalent or at the very least,
equidistant.

I thought about growing old without you
I thought about growing old and out of you.

I wished for a summer, but none came.

I shake when I step on that airplane.
I look at my hands, wonder if I should eat something
Or if I will continue to tremble for days recalling
How happy I could have been here.

“You should love with your heart and your head.”

“You should look at your fingers and remember what they
Touch more often I don’t know if you
Have been aware but everyone is looking at you, they know
You are not happy.”

I call you and you tell me it will be fine tomorrow.
I call you,
You tell me how much you regret.

The thought of flying alone makes me
Stick my hands in my front pockets
For hours.

Ticket; check.
Luggage; check.
Headphones to block the voices
Of strangers, I do not want
To know where you are going
Or what you are leaving.
I do not want to know how much more
Poignant your sorrow,
Your excitement.

I ride sound waves.

I ride the beats of
People I will never meet and
Forget those I have left behind forget
In a few short hours I will
Cry into my father’s arms I will
See the one face that makes
Me
Palms up and empty
Ready to touch railings again.

I know what you were expecting.

You can’t remember the last time you met my eyes.
I can’t remember the last time I believed a word
Out of my own mouth.

I shivered in the dark and you thought I was crying.

You held my hand in the car.
Just to keep me upright I was drunk and
Stumbling I was so ******* angry
At you and everyone else.

I forgot what listening to music alone felt like.

I forgot how we are the mistakes we make
More than the questions that come later.

We found comfort in compatible chaos.

I just wanted to be drunk for the last four
Or five months of my voluntary exile.

When I was young I was praised for my intellect,
I was inflated and strung out on sheer potential
Without focus.
So I wrote sonnets on the merits of photosynthesis and
Trigonometry.
I ran grammar marathons.
I searched for the artist inside me and found civil war histories.

I came home unsure and afraid of the future.
I came home unfinished and.

Short nights.
We toured the sands of lake Erie.
Wet feet,
The flashlight beam breaking on rocks and waves and empty beer cans.
You laughed at me and we talked about finding a bear or
Maybe, in a few years, living together.

There was heat.
I was swinging and the trees were touching my feet,
Bending boughs before us and the cops came
So we piled in your car and you
Were called to “drive faster.”
Speeding up to catch the sharp exhale I
Let spread across your neck,
Trickling slowly off your collarbone.

We brought a camera.
And, negatives spoke volumes when we reviewed our faces;
You were looking at your feet and my
Eyes were on your lips.

You say there is something great about rocketships and
The lack of oxygen or gravity, I mean
Who needs firmly planted feet or
Even to breath when there are still Saturdays and rain clouds?
I would make you triangles you could fill you house with only
I’d like it to be my house too.
Not now, just, with a dog and a yard.

I am drawing you a sonnet but it is in crayon
And I don’t know if you will like it at all.
Not as much as a Monet, or a Klee, but it
Still had rainbow colors and it is abstract and
Beautiful maybe.
It will lead you to that place (sonnets and maps are what we make)
You know
Where we will grow up in a few years.

I keep a list of words that remind me of you.
Buoyant, Renegade, Circumnavigate
Alexithymia, Insatiable.

No.

I have this dream,
Of living on Mars, surviving without oxygen.
Leaving everything in the world behind

But never you.

I was grown-up for the first time
Sitting at the bar alone.
I left my scarf on, let my
Coat slip off to reveal bare shoulders.
If it was cold that night I never noticed.

We slipped into the car and
Sat breathing the same soundwaves.
I just wanted to be happy.
I just wanted you too look at me with
Older eyes that used to take
My clothes off, that used to keep me
For later.

We sat on the edge of your bed and
Slowly laid ourselves down into
Strange hands; new calluses we never
Felt and new feel
To those same sheets.

I don’t remember the morning overtaking us.

You stood in the doorway.
I cried as I kissed you.
The only night you let your love show.

Without being pretentious, I just
wanna sound a little like myself again, somedays.

Shoot the ****.

We were the type to touch records just for the feel,
You were the type to throw darts on Thursday nights.

I jumped fences to impress you,
I wore my hair down and
drank your favorite beer.

Took my clothes off a little too often.

I looked at maps and you laughed but I
thought we would be an adventure.

I thought it was worth the lightyears,
Parsecs.

I just wanted more than drunken decisions and
Poorly-lit mistakes.

Or at least a better soundtrack.

Or at least,
a killer budget for special effects.

We could have made this a masterpiece of collusion;
rockets and robots with lazer eyes,
A daring chase scene;
one of us in the shower, the other,
knife in hand, or watching as someone,
knife in hand,
ruined the (nail-biting, will-they/won't-they) romance.

I can hear the critics now,
“The acting was terrible but there were some
amazing explosions and I sure loved the location.”

“Their chemistry seemed a little forced,
Am I really supposed to believe
it was a lie from the get go?  I just don’t
know if I can stomach the clear and unfortunate selection of that
leading lady,
of that leading man.”

I wanna make you a sandwich, someday.
Not when you ask; just for the hell of it.

A deep inhale, caught
across the dip between your
shoulder blades.

I am only the small space between my fingers,
the inconsequential rifts that disappear when your hand
slides into mine.

You are only the soft shallow sound of
footsteps coming up the stairs
so I know
I am no longer alone, here.

On Wednesday nights I
drink a little too much
and become obsessed with the lines
of my palms, yours.

I count the bottle caps and wonder
How many it takes to get
Your clothes off.

We should have kept a tally going.
We should have been softer and
Turned some music on.

I laughed as we crossed the street.
I shivered and you shrugged but did not
Take your coat off.

It was the sort of dawn when the
Clouds were jagged and heavy with
Rain-soaked regret,
So you and I with our downcast eyes made
The smallest footsteps on our long journey home.

You would find me drinking champagne on basement stairs
Looking through the cracks in the floorboards
Counting the number of times we had been here.

I was tangled in your sheets before,
I was pulling my hair out by breakfast.

I cried and you pretended not to hear, just rolled over and
Looked out the window, mumbled something about
How bad the weather might be later
Mumbled something about kissing me
But I am not sure if it was regretful or
Nonchalant.
We walked down to the water and I told you
There was no way in hell I would be here tomorrow.
You kinda laughed.

You were right about New Year’s.

My dress was too short and I was too easily persuaded to
Follow you anywhere.  To lie to my mother.
And we awoke to a dawn that made me think about the movies,
where you cry but it ends up so happy.

The rain came flooding through the doorway
All blue and grey behind you.  Without an umbrella I
Walked to my car.
I thought you might be watching
I turned to find you gone again.

1.
You would find me tying knots in my hair.
and the bile would rise in my throat as
my hands shook.
I lost my voice in the heat of all the voices
It shimmered on the sidewalk I

I do not often say the right thing
When I am speaking I
Don’t laugh easy.


2.
When I watch you leave
I am reminded of how we used to fold starburst wrappers
Into chains and string them across the ceiling of my room.
We would be sugar-sick for days.


3.
I would rather fly than drive.
I turn back too often to be trusted at the wheel.

I am known to dig my nails into my own skin.
I never realize until you lace your fingers in mine and we both,
Red-handed,
Are caught in an apology.


4.
You have such a lovely face still.
Do you think of us, here?

I catch myself blaming you for the things I cannot change in myself,
As if you stole something from me.

But I was the one who stayed when I knew I had to leave.
I am the one who keeps quiet when
I should be screaming.


5.
I wonder if I don’t miss the tragedy of it all, somedays.


6.
You would find me sitting on picnic tables
Drawing hearts on my knobby knees.

I would sometimes whisper.
You did not hear me.

We were drunk, and stupid, and scared.

I was scared.
You were all poise with your surgeon hands
To cut past the layers of clothing and skin.
I clutched the air, like a sheet, to my chest.

You wanted an adventure but got me.

Yeah, we used to light matches.

We thought about burning these buildings down but instead
Smoked our cigarettes or the occasional
Cigar.

When we had something to celebrate.
When we made it though the week alive or at least
Breathing and drinking and swearing a little less.

You pulled me into the bathroom to tell me you thought
We should get out of here tonight and
Tomorrow night and all the nights after.
You smelled like cheap beer and even cheaper plastic.

I thought about how, thus far, we’d skated by without
Getting cancer.  Without a fist fight, or a DUI or
Even a close encounter with the law.

This was not a Western.  We were not rebels.
We were scared and lost and trying so hard not to act like
Spoiled rich kids.

You pulled me into the bathroom.
Maybe you meant it but
You smelled like cheap beer and a little something extra.

I imagine in another life we are sitting together at a bar,
In the city,

You are holding my hand under the table, tracing
All of those scars on palms meant
For bigger and better than this.

In the winter
We follow pawprints
Through the forest,
through the thick of things.

You; convinced we are onto something.



We pass a flask with our
Heavy mittened hands and

Just between You and me; i

Don’t think it was the dogman. i don’t
Think

We will ever find anything out here.

Drunk kisses don’t count here
Not even with me not even
when it’s the first drink.

And you said
“boys don’t want smart girls,
boys don’t fall in love with Tomboys.”

So I gave up my dreams I
Gave up hockey I
Started wearing makeup.
I began saying stupid, shallow things.

On my unhappiest days I still want to blame you.
when I can’t speak without doubting myself or
changing the infliction of my voice so I sound
like I am begging.

I remember being brave at 16.

Until you told me,
“boys don’t want girls who never listen
boys don’t like girls who can stand on their own feet.
Just sit quietly and I will
Break you piece by
Tiny piece I will
Make you hate me.
I will make you hate me but you will
Never have the strength to leave.”

But we still reference The Office.
It makes us feel relevant, like we belong to an idea beyond ourselves.
Some 20-somethings’ movement where
We set today’s standards.

We sit and drink in the corner booth at the same bar.
We watch
Everyone else as they take pictures;
As they choose the next song on the jukebox.

“I want to be the Jim to your Pam,” he says.

And it makes you want to smile.
the way nostalgia makes you want to smile, the way
you smile when you watch that Star Trek episode, you have
seen it a thousand times but man,
those Tribbles sure are Trouble.

So you take the stairs two at a time you
sit on that twin bed, you put your feet up,
your toes under the covers because this was almost home once;
this was safe silence of late nights without much conversation,
of finding you knew the same words to the same songs
of always having a toothbrush and a t-shirt in the car.

this was a band-aid and a bottle of Oberon
when you skinned your knee on that “shortcut” home from the bar.

and he laughs and he says “just make yourself comfortable.”
and despite all the years and the lies you almost
Do.

In the weeks after I see you
I refuse to touch
  railings or doorknobs,
in fear of someone picking up
the pieces of you that will
rub off of me.

I turn 26 tomorrow.

For the first time in 12 years, I will not expect a call.

To put it frankly, the barbed wire fences you put up around my heart so long ago
Have let no one in and no one out.

I would **** to hear your voice again.

I break and remain.

There are days now
I don't think about it.

There are moments,
in the dark I
clutch my chest to keep
my heart intact.

There are moments,
in the dark my smile
breaks all lines
of my face and I.




I remember what we whispered.

1.
i am afraid of men touching my wrists
Now.

i listened to myself lie to my mother about where these bruises came from.
She shook her head and told me to be careful,
This world is not made for girls who want to keep up with the boys.

This world is not made for girls,
He says,
Who don't sleep over. This world is not made for girls who don't
Ever listen.

i kept my nose intact with one hand while the other held his face and i knew i didn't belong here.
i broke knuckles on the doorframe.

2.
i just wanted to be honest with the man i danced with.
It's not you, it's always me.

I kept rambling to keep you talking,
So afraid of pauses, so
Sure you were leaving.
I wouldn’t have stopped you

But.

My chest was filled with black holes and
My breath was heavy and your hands were
Heavy and your eyes were
Somehow not blue but still full of the sky.

I wore it like a bruise the next day.

And I was angry.
You should have come.
Given my mom a face to attach a name to.

We could have held hands in the car.

There’s this hole in the shape of your hand
Near my collarbone-
Makes me lose my voice now, some days.

Makes the connection from my head to my hands
A little shaky now, some days.

We broke every bottle in this place.
We scribbled on all of the walls in that bathroom,
Hearts and other nonsense;
It never amounts to anything, anyways.

There’s this gap between my back and
your fingernails-
Makes me acknowledge my rib cage.

Makes my heart shake instead of beat
now, some days.

We don’t touch that often now.
  
I always plan to leave my clothes on but you soon lose interest in the lines of my face;
my eyes; my palms.  
I want to write you a novel on the sound of your laughter.
The touch of your breath against my neck when you are sleeping and I try to ****** the night into staying-
tomorrow we become silent and sinister again.

I am sorry because I make myself ashamed when I should be causing a scene.

I am worse for those hours spent silent in your sheets the way the night is worse for the moon; it’s so much clearer now.
I am worse for the scars on my hands.

I am worse, I am worse.

I am worse.

We told each other lies we said we would never fall for.
Guess I don’t know you all that well, anyway.

Guess it doesn’t matter that every time the lights go off my
Hands are on your face and you,
You also have hands.

I will try to stop telling you how silly all these girls are.
I had meant to stop catching your eyes,
Catching my eyes out of corners when we both should be focused on other things.

I tried to sleep and dreamt you had left in the night.

I tried to sleep, alone and aware of you alone in the night.

I like to imagine I am a strong woman, most days.
That my nieces will look up to me, some day.

But I still look in the mirror and see you kissing those blond girls.
I touch my skin and feel scars.

I find myself whispering the same lies you used to tell me
into my own ears.
“You wouldn’t last a day without me.  No one else will ever want you.”

On those days, I run until my feet bleed.



On those days, I forget I am a scientist, a teacher;
In love.

I think about your hands.
I remember when I was not brave enough to utter just one single word that could have saved me.


I like to imagine I am a strong woman,
but I watch these girls hold their heads high when they walk
and
I am always counting the steps as they
take me further away from you.

I will kiss you again when you’re lipless.
I would love for you to follow me home
I will be your small bird if you let me,
Singing you softly but singing alone.
I can be the tune on your radio,
I don’t mind being the song in your head
And I will keep living this way if you let me
We made this bed,
I will be lying here, I will be bruised but maybe still
Soft on the inside.

There's something to be said about
Seeing your face for the first time in years and knowing

That smile

It's still for me.

10 years later;
When I look in the mirror,
Or at the scars,
Or I flinch at the touch of a stranger

When I want desperately to hate you
and I can’t.

I am so sorry but it still matters.

I watched you cut me open.
The anesthetic was local
And I have seen my own bones broken
But never with such precision and ease

You stitched this up but it still bleeds.
We choked
and choked
but still
this breathes.

I can’t remember if I built walls to
Keep from touching or
Keep from being touched.
Either way I don’t feel much now.

And so I use the mirror to remind myself,
(A morning ritual)
I am more than just the parts he held, once.

My eyes were always blue to get lost in.

I am more than just a girl,
Who was


Maybe


Loved once.

But I still feel shallower for the days spent being
Someone’s idea of me and not
Myself.

There are still songs I won't listen to.

I don’t know if you would love me more or love me less now

I am stronger
I am not afraid
of spiders anymore.

I run to keep from crying, but
in the confines of my car
at night, driving,
I still listen to the Postal Service and
do.

I still keep a box full of
notes you wrote
I’m just not sure where it is-
it’s no longer a need but
a comfort.

We existed.
It was good.
    For a while.

We ended.
And it broke me
   For a long time.

I don’t know if you would love me more or love me less now.

Two out of three times I speak my mind.
I make
my own phone calls. I
can sometimes talk to strangers.

I wear the occasional dress now.
I don’t hide my scars.
I still can’t drive stick shift.
I still say I’m spontaneous but rarely venture outside without meticulously laid plans.

I still worry all the time about my future
and how you won’t be in it.
Once, that ruined me but now

It’s more like the kind of sadness that sits
right behind your eyes when you think about a place
you used to love but haven’t visited in years.

I don’t know if you would love me more or love me less now
Maybe, not less,
just
from further and further away.

I wasn't even a star
I wasn't
even a boat
I wasn't
even
a fish
in your ocean

I was a single-celled
hyperthermophile
in one of your many, many trenches.

I watch you drive and ask
if anyone can love.

The way I love you
When you
sing a song you swear
Was written for me.

You touch my thigh and I have been drinking but
Still
This might be.

And I wanted to tell you how listening to The Cure
could heal your soul on the worst days.

Instead we just joked about taking our clothes off.

If I have learned anything these past 12 years, it's to trust
I am not the only girl
worrying that I am doing all these things we tell ourselves we won't do
just because we're asked to.
Just to feel wanted and beautiful.

As a scientist, I explain to myself that only 3-5% of mammals are truly monogamous,
as I woman I justify that society made me crave the attention;
made me need *** to feel.
As the owner of a small heart I struggle to make room and find it is not room I was lacking.
Just
Compassion.

But it's Friday, I'm in Love.

Your car was parked outside your parents' house.

I just happened to notice.
I just happened to be driving
to my parents' house
and thinking it was funny you still had that same car.

We would drive without a destination
we would put the seats back.

where I wrote that note reminding myself,
"remember, please, remember this feeling."

We would play that same song.

I thought about calling but
we're grown now and
have our own dogs.
our own lawns.


I hate to think that none of it was worth it but
here we are
in the same town, first time in 10 years and
I still remember the song but I

can't remember your smile.