"it was when i stopped searching for a home
within others
and lifted the foundations of home
within myself
i found there were no roots more intimate
than those between a mind and body
that have decided to be whole"

you are my favourite writer's block-
my frustration yet happiness all at once.
when writing is a kind of closure,
the end of a prose also signifies that of time.

to be immortal, simply tell a writer to stop writing.

stop the ink from staining papers blue-black;
it's only a matter of time before bruises heal.
stop a writer from letting go;
so let them remember you instead.

it's been a writer's peeve to perfect every prose they write,
and i've come to see it as a bad habit.
a writer's memory is a cassette,
replayed and rewound
till your voice tangles
till it bears little resemblance to actuality-
an altered memory.

if that's a writer's reality,
what's least ideal is probably
to write about something they hold so dear to.

so if you asked for the worst poem i'd ever written,
it'd be about you.

it's never been easy to love.
and it's harder to love the subtleties
between the lines.
and in this reality that i'd made,
i'm sorry that the end was in sight before anything begun.

i miss the memories we never shared.

when it's time to forget
these misplaced time and space,
i am afraid.
so afraid that by then,
you would exist only in metaphors,
but a doppelganger of you.

albeit, it might be the best way to forget.

maybe it'd hurt less to let go than hold on.
and perhaps i'd love a little too much this time.
and by the time i could write about you,
i would probably have gotten over you.

to be immortal, simply tell a writer to stop writing.

otherwise,

fall in love with the writer.

This feels like a nightmare I've already had too many times before
Only now, I can't manage to wake up
I'm not sure who you were trying to convince when you said you wished this wasn't happening
I wish I could remember the last good day we had
Because all I can seem to remember is four years ago when we were so young and so dumb and so ******* naive and now
And there's no in between
I remember looking at you like you were some kind of God
who swooped down from the sky and saved me
I loved you so much it consumed me
and I didn't ever plan on stopping
The saddest sentence I ever said to you was
"I'm sorry things didn't work out the way we always thought they would."
I wanted you to tell me to shut up
That I had nothing to be sorry for or
that our time wasn't up,
that we still had a chance,
that you still loved me enough to try one more time or a hundred more times,
that love was enough,
but all you said was
*"Me, too."

how great it is to realize
that without you now,
there is nothing keeping me here
here in this town,
in this state,
with these people

how great it is to realize
that now I am alone
and free
free to find love and myself and
love within myself
away from you

how awful it is to realize
that these things aren't great at all
standing here without you now,
I can't help but feel so small
the world is big and our love was great,
but it was great and that was all.

how great it is to realize
that I can stand without you now
and that I will not fall.

ground zero
i become aware of boundaries
i am a dog chasing cars
i sing your voicemail to sleep
there are no surgeon general warnings
to tell me that
the objects in the mirror
are more depressed than they appear
so how do i tell you
that there are parts of my life
that move slower
without you in them?
or that i look for you every day
in emails & unanswered calls
in the sunrises
i didn't choose to be awake to watch
that i sometimes still stare at doorways hoping you would walk through them
   *stage 1 you tell your new lover you've got a splinter and they pull the sound of your body falling asleep on mine out of your fingertip
   stage 2 your new lover says something at dinner that makes you choke so they call 911 & the paramedics do the hymleich not knowing you would ***** our promises all over the the restaurant
   stage 3 your new lover surprises you by cleaning the house & washes the shirt you kept next to the bed, not knowing it was the last thing you had that smelled like me
after
people always ask
what was loving her like?
after a really long silence
i just say
"it must be nice"
but i never say
it's watching paint dry
i never say
it's a window seat in hell
i don't tell anyone
about the dreams
where i am reading you
bedtime stories
each one is a different way you die
& every time i can never save you
dreams where what i think
are angels in my bedroom
are just homeless versions
of myself you never loved
i have dreams
where i pay someone to shoot me
just to see if you would cry
just to see
if you would cradle my body
i don't tell people
that loving you is like
playing piano
for someone who can't hear
that it's hitting repeat
on my favorite song
& forgetting the words
every time it starts over
that it's finding out
there's no milk after you already
poured yourself a bowl of cereal
it's getting locked in the dark
& being told to
look on the bright side
that loving you is like
being reminded of what it felt like
the first time
you accidentally let go
of a balloon as a child
it's drowning without the water
it's the feeling you get
when you start to dance
& the song ends

i want to know everything you feel when we're together
i want to know if you love the rain
or if you abhor it
but it doesn't matter
i will still drag you outside during a storm to dance with me
no rain jackets, no shoes, no cares
nothing but our feet, hands, and souls making splashes
and soaking ourselves
in the moment

I guess now that all is momentarily calm
the war has stopped
and the dust has settled
it's easy to see
that after all there was to say has been said
and all there was to do has been done
I am still the only one
holding on

I have known no greater pain
than this
         this moment where you no longer
love me back

this life where I am alone and
without you
this world where you are not mine
this morning I woke up alone
and tonight
I will fall asleep alone
only to repeat this daunting new cycle
the next day
and the next

and I can't even put this into a context
in which I am familiar with
because this world where I am alone
and without you
has never before existed

I am sick with the constant thought of you;
of your contagious laughter and
our poisonous love
that I am painfully aware
we no longer share

and in this moment
I feel it everywhere

everywhere
everywhere
everywhere

I will not sit here in lies I cannot swallow,
I cannot wallow in this world of sorrow
without you
I cannot hold my head up and pretend as if
you never meant anything to me -

how can I pretend you never meant anything to me when
I cannot stand to breathe this hollowed air
without you,
live on this broken, godforsaken earth
without you,

and is it me or has time completely stopped
without you?
is it me
or has the earth reverted to spinning backwards on its axis
without you,
have the tides of the ocean ceased to kiss its beloved beach
without you,

or has it only been me?

has it only been me
who has spun backwards on my axis
and stood frozen in the empty sea

dear god,
has it only been me
all along?

giving you space is so **** hard
when all I desire is to be held in your arms
and hear your voice whisper it's all going to be okay
you swore to me you cared
swore you'd always be here
babygirl,
I'm calling out, where are you now?
i'm shouting at the moon and hoping you hear me too
all because I know you're with her smoking a few joints as you both lay in your bed
the same bed you'd hold my hand in
kissing sweet words to me before sleep
those same words sneak directly off your tongue
into her memory that she will never hold as dearly as i hold mine of you
you are so precious to me and all I ever wanted was to be enough for you
but I will always be so grateful
to have kissed the same cigarette your lips so gracefully did
for that was the closest I ever dare got
to you being mine