I used to watch my old neighbor
Walk 3 times a day to the edge of his yard
Hands grasped behind his back
Half tucked in white shirt
Yellowed by tobacco or maybe sweat
He’d stand there hands
Holding his own hands
And wait
Just a few minutes
Then like his grey hair
Uncut and curling
He’d wind back
To his front door

Sometimes I’d sit
And watch

You feel like someone who crosses the street when there are pages they didn’t need to see

It's far easier
to believe
that you never really loved me at all
than to drown in the fact
that I just couldn't
keep you
or maybe I just
didn't deserve you quite
like I had imagined

When I was eight
I would fall asleep
in the corners
of my house
often left alone
because I felt
my bed
was the reason I could not sleep
I felt
like it knew
I wasn't worthy
of the pillow
or my sheets
or the cascade of
sunbeams
that would fall on my
face in the morning
just like they do now

I would walk around the house
empty and creaking
and I would walk into the kitchen
and hold a knife
to my stomach
with my reflection
in the granite counter top
and I would wonder
why I felt
that it was often better
to die than try to
deal
with my mind numbing
nothings
and the questions
they posed

I didn't know yet
people took their lives.
That people
felt these things sometimes
they had clouds
that would hang over heads
sometimes for months
I hadn't felt a loss
but still
I knew this ride
only had a one way
track
and I wanted off

It's heavy
to feel the heat
that runs through my
blood when I'm behind
the wheel of a car
or walking over
a bridge
it's difficult
to always see
ledges without
safety fences
and concrete columns
and not really understand why
the mineral mounds
in my brain
just aren't stacked the same
as Bill
or Jane
Because I've always known
this one track train
to not have a definitive escape
just a one way ticket
and only one lane

It's heavy to always
see ledges without
safety fences
and find some calm
some comfort in
that.

my fire is back
whirlwind
wanderer
wistful
whisper
wonderful
woman
my fire is back
and my feet
won't fail
me
this time

I love
laying on park benches
and breathing
heart beating
watching the sun flutter
from the leaves
casting shadows
and trickling
down her
light to me
I love walking
gratitude in each step
feeling the earth
hug my feet
toe to heel
time to heal
banana bread
banana peel
I love pancakes
and you
more than
I ever thought I might

my arms feel heavy
like lead in my vein
from lust
loveless lasting
on my tongue
from far away
thoughts
I've tried to bury
beneath my bed
winding up
whispering around
my music box
head

he said he's just a man
with teeth tearing God's back
he's running on putrid plaque
fate can't control
a foriegn face
in any unknown
place

January 2015
i am freshly nineteen.
a boy with black lipstick comes down unfamiliar stairs
from a mysterious Above.
i wonder if i'll ever see this place.
March 2015
same boy, no lipstick.
i kiss him at a bar
but do not yet get to see the mysterious Above.
i hope to see it soon.
April-June 2015
i wake up most mornings
in the Above place.
i sometimes wear lipstick, but usually not.
it is bright and
cold and
nowhere near the bathroom.
July-December 2015
i reluctantly walk up now
all too familiar stairs
to an Above place where
i am not wanted
or welcome
but i still need a place to put my bag, so i ignore the signs both
literal and figurative.
January 2016-**
i am welcomed with
open arms to
the Above place and
do not want to leave
but
home is a subjective term and time doe not stop for nostalgia;
i am glad no one else will get to see the Above the way i do.

i am half priced but
full quality.

you told me we weren't alike
because when i sit in the sun
i feel sick.

but here we are
alike and touching
my hands hold yours but
mostly yours hold mind and
i am very scared.