You’ve dammned yourself to hell,
crawled weakly back, back, back—
you knew where to find me.

I know, because I’ve dealt massiveley
with the way you’d hold me backwards
upon a plateau of lies that smell like liquor,
like liptstick, and like twisted lullabies.
No one should have to fall asleep at night
to an I told you so or the just let me go to sleep.
I know, because I’ve been hit without being touched.
I’ve catapulted through your dense disguise,
getting stuck in the aftermath, losing
myself in a realm of make-believe promises
to keep—
*******. Just keep yourself away from me!
I know, because I’ve loved you.
And maybe not in the cause and effect wedding band way,
but the kind where I was immersed, evolved into madness
from your lips on my lips or your hands on my hips.
I know, I know that you’re upset
with who you’ve finally become, because I know you.
Terribly enough, I know you.

So when the white blankets you slow with silence,
an invisible massacre, I’ll know—
I’ll know because I’ve almost been there—
that my face turned soft with glow
will guide you home
because I’m the only real thing you’ve ever known.

whether it's 57 or 47 i don't know because i got sidetracked and i guess that's good because for the first time in a long time i was able to be sidetracked from the idea of you
this summer was a necessity for me, not a want because i needed to get away from here and from all of those memories of every time i did something wrong and ******* up and although it hurt being in the same place twice for a total of seven hours it wasnt as bad as i thought
youre just a memory now and accepting that is no longer like drinking a teaspoon full of bitter medicine making me want to throw it up just to keep you as alive as i could
i held on to you like you were some kind of lifeboat but you arent and never were and never will be and now you want to float your way back into my life but i learned how to swim in the salty water of the black sea summers ago and i was reminded once again that im too good for your drowning savior
this is my 57th and last poem to you, because i realized that resigning writing about you is resigning the memory of you and it's finally time for that
no more thinking about the carpet burns on my hands and the stream of tears that would pour waterfalls onto my cheeks to ruin my makeup
no more looking back at the story i wrote just so i wouldnt forget the experience and no more wishing it had happened differently
no more walking down the hallway with a shallow hole in my chest where your bullet ripped right through it and no more looking like the walking dead because of you ((i can still look like it for old reasons though))
and it makes me sad that i never really realized all of this until after June, until after an unforgettable experience with my loved ones but thats what did it for me
the melody of the mountains and the songs the summer sang in perfect harmony
and i realized in the end of july, when i was in a car without makeup, with work clothes, my hair blowing in the wind of the rolled down windows of a old car, it was when i looked at the window mirror then, that i was smiling

i was smiling

its been over two months since ive cried about you and i plan to keep it that way, and so i wanted to say i bid you adieu

it was nice while it lasted but kids grow up like grass when you give them soil and emotions recover from withering once you give them water

and i? well, i finally decided to drink the water.

You better kiss me,
your mouth parted and lips
wrecking into the vagabond breath
that escapes from the center of what
I've been talking, and talking, and talking about
all the while you're trying to just shut me up.
So you better kiss me, kiss me
with your hands below my hips
pushing the skin from my bones
and pulling the sins from my mouth
just to spread them on our bodies.
We collide, half-inspired and arching
my back with your hands cupping the dimples
above my tailbone, jumping over my vertebrates,
reaching for my neck to press yourself, harder,
into me. Lights out, sheets to the end of the bed,
I sigh into your ears, XO. Again, and again, and again
gently until I'm bruised and ripened, soft,
pulsing on the verge, releasing our glow
crashing into you, kiss me, kiss me
you better kiss me.

The snow moves swiftly,
Silently falling to earth,
Green grass to cold white.

You lit the first spark, and that was all it took. I was ready to believe that I was ready for love. I was not.
2. You were the first flame, but I stood too close to the fire and it singed  my insides to the point that I felt like nothing more than ashes. Worthless
3. You unhinged my previous thoughts for awhile, and replaced them with your soft lips and warm eyes.
4. You caught me at a good time and helped me stay there for a couple months, but you grew up, while I remained stationary.
5. I found myself at home in your arms, between the trees, and under the stars.
6. I met you in the midst of a hazy summer and I have yet to decode what it is that you mean to me. But like all lost lovers, we're bound to find ourselves no longer misplaced.

I’ve found religion in your smile.
Trusted the way it curves, practicing
the lines in my mind with delicacy,
ripening your image until it’s sore.
Your throat baptizes me,
replaces the devil of my intentions
with sweet, rosy breath,
curling my inhibitions until they dive
back into me and I express my very desires
openly on a blanket--
and it’s no sin
because I love the way your spine stands
like a perfect cross, carrying me
to the vision you have of a better me
than what I used to be.
I’ve prayed for your thighs in naughty ways,
but you’ve taken my hands,
folded them into shapes I can’t comprehend
and kissed my fingertips until I was crying
out of confusion and catharsis,
finally understanding what it feels like to count
people, you, as a blessing.
I see God when you make instruments
out of blades of grass, or how that strap
slides off your shoulders when the wind
graces the moment with a whisper.
He gave me an angel disguised as a woman
with too many pillows on her bed and coffee breath,
but you pull me from point to point like taffy,
slowly, lagging, molding me into the gift
you never wished for. I, bestowed at His feet,
unwilling found a soul and a heartbeat
louder than any of my unforgiving words.

I know about the necklace.
How you re-gifted a leftover reject present
from a buddy who mentioned it the day before,
and I know about Lyndsey and the book of YOUR
favorite poems you bought for ME. I know you call me baby,
but I also know that I’m not the only one.
You demanded a certain elegance
that I always thought I carried, but really
I was just a bag of apologies
for simply existing in the same space that you were.
You know the night that I got drunk on cranberry and *****,
called you twice, and cried into a box of homemade
chocolate chip cookies? That wasn't the first time
I sat at your chair in your sweatpants
waiting for you to return from wherever
you said you weren't. I know about what you've done.
But, of course, as you so eagerly expected,
you’ll come in with a sigh and sleek smile,
and I’ll unclothe myself as I talk about
every detail of my day even though I know
you never bother to listen. I’ll lay naked
in your bed as you cradle what you believe
is your biggest mistake, while I silently hope
that faked ignorance can mask the reality
of how beautiful I should be and how ugly
I never wanted to admit you were.

You've ruined blue eyes,

For when I gaze into his,

I'm still seeing you.

The other day I woke up to the smell of your absence clinging to my skin. I took 8 showers that day and I am still not quite sure if it's possible to feel a phantom limb where there wasn't one in the first place.

2. The way that squirrels cross the street makes a lot of sense all of a sudden. I'm sure no one told you that you have a way of making their skin crawl in the most desperate way. I still can't eat on your side of the bed without choking on the residue your dreams left.

3. I read the obituaries like I used to read the creases your smile left, they're not meant for me.

4. Stars manage to keep their deaths a secret for years I wish I were as committed to forgiveness as they were. I stuck my hands in scalding water today and left them there until they begged for redemption, it sounded a lot like your name.

5. It took me two years to find out your middle name, that is not a metaphor. I used to think that the slower I said it the sweeter it would taste. I stick my fingers down my throat hoping to find the words you left there I'm so sorry for being too weak to say them back then I'm so sorry they couldn't make you stay. I drew highway maps on the palms of my hands that led me right back into my own arms, how is that for irony.

6. Television.

7. Lips that don't bruise when they touch my own, I want a love like a car crash. I want painful, and desperate, and no good for me, I want to not want this.

8. I've blown out so many candles I'm suprised I haven't put all the stars out yet. If the universe were capitalist shooting stars would be marketing to my demographic. I would be the poster child for wishes that will never come true.  

9. Novels that end exactly as you hoped they would

10. Nearly 160,000 people died in the 1945 bombing of Hiroshima, Japan. 69% of the city was left in ruin. The radiation caused by the explosion was said to effect those living in Hiroshima for the next 30 years. From what I know, hospital walls are lined with cynicism and pain and I can't think of anything worse than oblivion than near oblivion.