Dear _,

It's been hard to write. You were always the muse.
I'm no longer Anonymous. Anonymous is no longer mine.

Once, he smashed my lamp. I heard the sparkle of cheap IKEA glass fanning out on my floor like a miniature Arctic Ocean. When I came back to my room, he had a broom in one hand and your mug in the other.

I told him he could break anything in my life, but not that mug.

I am bound, my dear _ . Not because I wish I could tell you how much _. Not because I , or that I miss when we __ , but by sterility, latex gloves, telegrams. I am bound by the distance and detachment that keeps us safe as we venture inside other humans, other hearts.

The only way to survive terminal love was to induce a coma. Sleep until fixed.  

At best I will dream of your laugh.

I quarantined myself in a still pool
tranquil and floating, waiting for the ice
to finally freeze my turbid heart
into a more peaceful *****.

On the shore you saw me
or I saw you
and perhaps I was a lighthouse
or perhaps you were a lifeboat,
gliding from the banks
you poured yourself in like hot oil.

As you slipped over my arms, legs, torso, face,
you breathed into my ear a steady stream of prophecy and promise
-It's not right for a woman like you to be alone. You are built to give.

And so I felt your mouth seal over mine
and allowed you to inhale the starry swirls of life
I had been conserving for winter.

As you pulled me far deeper with you
we could not emulsify
but we became inseparable.

I want to rip them up
make them die.
I will
scream in their face
until they cry.
I will
haze them
till they hang.
I will
ditch everyone who has
taught me
and join a gang.
Substances
will be my next stop.
Sitting in church,
I'll throw in the air,
the green,
the stanched,
the only,
the ***.
Put Mike's Hard Lemonade
in a lemonade stand
and give to neighborhood kids.
Steal a car,
and drive to Vegas
and make some illegal bids.
But when I am let down
and treated unfair
I know that doing things like that
will get me nowhere.
If I want to succeed
I must know
that being the bigger person
Is the path I will choose to go.
And to
everything that could
possibly ****
or lower my self-esteem
and who I am.
My choice,
is No.
I choose to forgive
even if I was never
told an apology.
I may remember horrible things.
But I will not get the lobotomy.
I choose to learn
I choose to move on.
It never matters
who was right
or who was wrong.
Nobody is,
so I choose to end the fight.
People will do things out of line.
I choose to advocate,
and that is just fine.
I choose to agree on split
and shake hands.
To show my opponent
I made the right choice.

A decade ago the brightest minds dreamed
of being as close to the unknown as the clouds are.
Today we dream the same
but on a larger surface; the moon.

I can't help but imagine
Tracing those perfect lips
With my fingertips
Softly down your sides to your hips
My arms around your waist
I wonder how you taste
my minds in this odd place
Between wanting to make you my own
And knowing I should slow down

Laying curled up trying to think of nothing.
Ipod playing music unheard.
The wall comes in and out of focus. Stare too long and you see new things.
You don't really want to feel like this, but you can't seem to feel any other way.
Is it worth it to surrender your emotions?
Everyone's got to start somewhere.