if we were to assign emotions to colors -
passion would be where magenta and orange kiss the horizon at sunset,
joy would be the yellow of my socks every easter sunday that i can remember,
and melancholy would be just another shade of blue.

i told him,
i am not done with you yet.
three weeks post breakup,
we shouldn't feel as unfinished as we do.
like, in the ridiculously complicated narrative of he and i,
the author got up one day,
scribbled a quick ending,
and then set the novel on fire.

i read an article in an obscure magazine
about Shelley Jackson,
an artist
who got thousands of people
to tattoo a singular word
from a story onto themselves,
and then sent them back to their scattered existences.

maybe that is what this is,
another scattered story.
another vaporized narrative.

i can feel it in the air,
but not pull the phrases together.
it's like trying to hold onto smoke.
our story slips through my fingers and gets in my eyes.

if we were to assign emotions to colors -
my ribcage would look like a Jackson *******.
my head would be a paintball arena.

i am so full of indigos,
and mustards,
and crimsons,
that Van Gogh, himself, would dip into my palette
and claim to have never seen such beautiful sadness before.

i don't know if it hurts because it still matters,
or if it matters that it still hurts.

i feel the frenzied ache of creation in my gut.
i am not a painter,
but my mirror is showing me
the immaculate collection of brushstrokes
i have become.

a few weeks ago,
i was approached by an artist who offered to paint my bruises.
to collect my contusions with watercolors.

what a beautiful intention,
to immortalize the growing pains,
memorialize the bumps along the way,
to make something permanent
of these perpetual transitions.

if we were to assign emotions to colors -
my pride would be gold-plated and rusting from use, like my grandfather's watch,
courage would be the pure green of every bud that has dared to grow through concrete,
and love?
love would be prismatic,
like spilled oil on asphalt.

a rainbow one moment,
vanished the next.

His eyes
The way they were shaded like a sea of waves cascading down on all of your worries and they could seep into your heart and make everything okay again.

His hands
The way they were calloused and how I wished I grabbed them and never let go on that quiet peaceful night.

His voice
The way how his voice was quiet and beautiful but could fill an empty room with cries of joy

His laugh
The way he laughed and how it pulled my heart strings hundreds of ways every time

His smile
The way his nose would crinkle up and thin lips would spread across his face. How just one smile could of solved all my problems.

Him**
The way he made me fall in love with him every single ******* time. How I would give up everything just to be with him again.

You frighten me, in the way that a small bird or beautiful flower would frighten me.
The way a soft rabbit might rub against my ankle and and doze in my lap.
You are the clouds beneath my weary airplane, flung out across the atmosphere.
And you are the prickle of a heavy wool blanket in the thin chill of the night.
You are the the warm, green earth of the mountains, holding up the lightness of the blue sky.
The breeze kisses at the hem and collar of my shirt, and I hear you in it.
I lose you in my arms and find you, a fleeting creature in the forest.

Again they strike
like sharks smelling blood
shredding the skin of night
with bullets and Van lights
burning the insides
of the innocents
who are unable
to find a safe place to hide;

But I still get to live my life
parse out a few sincere tears
for those who will never
get to go home again
for those who
I will never meet here.

These tears fade fast
and disappear
as I watch my shows
and eat my late night lunch.
I know they suffered.
I should feel more,
but time continues.
This pain is but a minor
selection on life’s menu
supplied by the internet venue;

And I am so Self-absorbed
that over half of this poem
is about me.

take me to a place
where i can see You
face to face;

because all i want to do
is slip away
into the darkness i've been
trying so hard to fight.

The strawberry milk boy. The lights are on but nobody is home kind of boy. The lost boy. There's something about his hands and how ever since that first spark you haven't stopped feeling the burning sensation on your thighs. Something about how every time you're rocking your body over his you want to whisper about loving him but never quite having the gumption. Something about knowing that it never lasts. Something about the broken glass on the kitchen floor and the way you always walk through it without shoes on. Something about knowing you'll get hurt and knowing it shouldn't be like this. Something about needing more. Something about always being the one to say sorry anyway. Something about the end.

the summer goes by fast
always faster than the last
now the sunshine is past

and i will watch the golden fade
watch the darkness come my way
let the clouds roll in to start my day

have you ever watched the sky as it cried?
the trees while they died?
have you?

have you ever watched the leaves as they fall?
tried to catch them at all?
have you?

the greens will all turn to brown
and the blue skies will start to drown
the bright lights will say, "see you around."

the nights are suddenly longer
the days are so much harder
and the winds just keep getting stronger

have you ever watched the sky as it cried?
did you try to wipe it's eyes?
did you?

have you ever watched the leaves as they fall?
under your feet crushed them all?
did you?

and we will call it beautiful
as they fall apart
the raindrops and tear stains
will make a fine art

have you ever stopped to wonder
what it's like
to crumble beneath the pressure
to lose the light?

have you ever wondered what it's like to lose your fight?