sorry you ****, babe -
probably because you're a lying,
thieving,
attention-seeking *****.
probably because you're an inconsiderate,
inconsistent,
ingenuine little *******.
sorry you had it all coming to you -
sorry everyone's forgotten about you -
sorry you're a miserable excuse for a human being.
sorry you slice up your arms and parade them around
and still no one cares.
sorry you'll stop at nothing for an inch of spotlight,
and still no one gives it to you.
sorry we all know about you now,
sorry you can't handle it,
sorry you had to run away like the
***** you are
because you burned all your friends along with your bridges.
sorry we caught on,
sorry we're not taking it,
sorry you're alone (so all alone).
sorry you can't handle all the
minor inconveniences in your life
with the grace everyone else does,
and sorry you lack the integrity to try.
sorry you have to pretend to be ****** up
(honestly, what in your life
is causing you pain?
is it the parents that love you,
or the friends you could still have?)
sorry you ****, babe -
and i'm sorry i don't give a ****.

when the wolves stop licking at my marrow then
i'd hope to find your face there -
but i'm alone there in the wood
and i'm alone here in this wood.
and you are a shadow
and i am a pain-emptied husk,
whistling and
melting into the branches and the leaves.
i am broken bones.
i am a thousand lost things.
i am breathing, i am barely,
and i am alive,
but i wouldn't know it.

where have all the words gone?
they burst through my fingers
they pull and they push at me.
they would be seen
they would pull from our souls the essence of our humanity
and they would string into the most stupendous
and riveting stories.

maybe it's okay. i think sorrow suits me -
i sabotage happiness.
pour gasoline all over it and
kick at it and
provoke it.
i can't sit still with happiness like i can with sorrow.
it doesn't make me write or think. happiness doesn't fit my heart quite right. it never has.
i can be alone, you know.
i can be alone and i can be sad and i can take my pain in large and crippling doses
and i can sit still and let it all catch me and wash over me and rip me apart
and i can let the stitches come undone
and i can let it seep into my heart and make me feel the blackest things you can imagine.
i have that capacity.
i'm that type of person.
and in the end i can let it right back out again -
it's like breathing in that way. i've learned to manage my pain, after all these years of having it.
it's not new to me - just yours is fresher
and maybe worse than what i've had before,
but it's not a novelty.
it comes
and it goes
tide in
tide out
crippling
then fine
then crippling,
and i will sit and i will let it take me and i will feel what i'm feeling and i will think what i think and i will live with it like i've always lived with it, and i will not hurry to heal, and i will not force any sort of happiness, because people need sorrow like they need oxygen. it is something real and necessary and raw. i can feel it and still survive. i can let it in and let it back out again, and i will be fine. and i don't need you to know that. and i don't need to tell you. and i don't need anyone to worry. because this is part of what i do, and how i am, and i can control my dosage, and i can control my suffering.
it suits me.
it does.

remember, i'm recieving loneliness like
tears bought, nothing for frightened
and still loving.
leaving like dying, under skin
twirling under rain for death, dancing.
open my falling for words and a boy
dropping life.

belly-laughing beer-drinking tongue-waggling
boot-stomping word-romping
beautiful bearded
golden-toned stories in my head
feeling you in my fingertips, my palms
the tip of my tongue

but in the night, in my head, in the moonlight
you dance.

You are a burning in my belly
You are a lilting in my thoughts
You are laughing joking singing
You are when my walls all drop
You are a flutter in my heart
You are dancing in my soul
You are a weakness in my limbs
You are all I care to know.
You are a sparkle in my eyes
You are a fire on my tongue
You are a dazzle to my smile
You are old, you are young.
You are the best to all my worst
You are a heat inside my head
You are an accidental smile
You are everything I am.
You are what I want to know
You are who I want to be
You are something nothing everything
You are you, we are we.
You are an almost-have-it wanting
You are a hesitation on my part
You are a can-I should-I would-I
You are a seizing at my heart.
You are a shy-eyed-glancing-laugh
You are a whispered three-word phrase
You are a wanting and a weakening
I am I, you are you.

it's not what it usually is.
     you're no more and no less tragic than anyone else.
     you do not need to be fixed.
     maybe you're a little ****** up, but that's the norm now anyways.
        
        (and I suspect there are things you don't tell me
               in terms of your home and your history
               just like there are things i don't tell you,
                 but everything comes out eventually.)

i guess it's just how you look at me
and how it seems like our souls are the same.
sometimes it really is that simple.
and it's weird to say
and it's a cliche, and it's stupid,
but i genuinely love the way you think
( plus
     you have this type of kindness
      that i really think most people have forgotten.
it's the kind where you look in people's eyes even if they're unpopular or weird
                 or a stranger
                   or an *******
                      or your girlfriend's ex boyfriend
                         and remember that you're both people)
and so I guess that's why,
or at least that's part of why.

by the way, this poem is about why i like you
                    and maybe love you,
               but we don't say that yet.

just in case you didn't get it.

you've got sunshine in your eyes, her mother told her
and she knew it.

her toes itched to skip-skap
across pavements and leaves, swirl through
snow
dancing in their boots.

you've got sunshine in your eyes, her mother told her
and she felt it.

her smile could light hearts
set flame to
the day,
and laughter -
music.

you've got sunshine in your eyes, my mother told me
and i learned it.