if I was a romantic person,
I'd pay attention to how he smiles
when a neighboring
baby coos
at an item
while we wait
in line.

you said you loved that when I laugh, I duck my head into my chestand do so, comparing me to a kitten, I simply thought you were the cutest boy with the smoothest voice, thick like German chocolate cake and as refined as a cultured Huckleberry Finn could be, and I told you everyday until my voice grew shrill and bled thick like red wine aliens to blood and water and I swear I thought I knew you, I thought I loved you, you loved the way my lips could be apricot flavored and a fleshy pink all at once and my condensed persona, I think I loved you, and your baby curls and your moody whispers and the stinging feel of your stubble grazing my lips, I think I loved you.

You laugh because
you know it isn't funny.

I watch because I know
you need me to keep on caring.

I used to to tell him that I couldn't help that I
was moody,
but I think that I could have-
I just liked the fact that he accepted my *******
like no other.

if i was to
ever
lose my
right hand for
stealing,
let it be your heart
that I
suffer for
with my left.

I don't know which I'm most annoyed by:

Those who are afraid of titles
or
Those who are in love with titles.

(1.) i like to wander in my loneliness,
stray like a mere cat, spread ash
beneath my feet and leave a dusty
trail for all to ponder upon. (2.) i once met a man capable of convincing me that he painted the sky blue with his icey tone. (3.) i once met a woman capable of dying my skin brown, my eyes yellow, my heart a mellow melon. (4.) besides each other and thus simply falling apart, they scholar'd a greedy need in me to seed the earth and soil my hands but never the hemp of my skirt and so i lie awake this maroon-collar'd night, a silly-hearted stranger writing to you in what I pretend is anonymity, once again of how exactly it feels like to be confused of oneself. it becomes even sillier and sillier as the day wears on, it seems.

there's a self-destruct button
attached to my heart,
I swear there is.
There just has to be.

you used to make fun of my inability to stay found in you. mirroring my lost
gazes, biting your lower lip. at first it'd snap me back to the reality I had built in you, it'd remind me of those nights when
you'd sucker me into bed,  biting my lower lip until my eyes stung and rolled. those breathy nights when I swore Veritas sent the water from her well below and her lover sent the clouds from the heavens to cushion me as I fell clumsily into you. you used to compare me to her, not because of the truths I told you but because you said that you could easily tell just from looking at me that my demons and my angels were  fighting. you said that you could tell that sometimes my demons changed my angels against me, you said you could see them handing over their halos for a crown of wooden insecurities. but when I asked what your demons were, you laughed and said, "you are." I started to notice how often I lost myself to the world that lingered over your right shoulder. I noticed how often you had to bring me back saying one day my mysterious mind would **** me. I suppose it did the day you left me cuddled in the corner between the sink and the toilet, tears mascara-ing my brown cheeks while shouting at the skies, "why did you break my heart and then send me to this world?"

sometimes i feel as though
i was put on this earth
just to be.
Broken

i spitfire the words out so that you don't fill up my head with all of your thoughts, I'd like to remember as little of you as possible, it seems silly, but I'm only protecting, me, and you. i spew the words out so that the only way you could ever stop me is to kiss me, i belch the words out so that all you'll ever think about is me and my words and the way i string them to you, my subtle promises, like a quite poem hushed beneath my husky breath, i want me on your mind at all times.

I  keep a green cup between the
legs of my nightstand and the
mints of my wall,
and at night after I tuck edible things
out of my dresser's pockets
and into my mouth
and then again, into the open spout of my green cup
because mine never seems to know
how to retain any
form of sustenance:
I let it all spill from me and then
I lay back into the ruffles of my blanket,
rancid scents spilling through the air-
I'm breathing new again-
and my eyes fill as my body won't,
and I just waste
all over