I am ever so simply a woman and so I liquify from the waist down and on the eve of a disastrous morning, I use the tips of your your lips as marmalade and marinade within the notion of you. If I was to ever go mad, it'd surely be based on the mere idea that you once knew me as certain as you knew the difference between a prism and a square, just additions and subtractions of necessary and unnecessary lines.

he said I crumple up when I laugh

Your door cannot stop this flood.

i only smoke when
someone's died.*
he said.

and when I asked him
who's died most recently,
he said, *everyone.

You used to
pay attention
to things like
my absence.
Where I've
been and
where I'm
going
as if I
ever knew
the latter.
I used to
hate your
questions
saying,
******* my
dust, I'm not
your star ***.
Before
hanging up the
phone or
shutting the door.
I can't believe
I actually
miss you
now.
And the way
you used to
kiss my lips
in my greatest
moments of
panic, holding
my chin up to
your face and
saying, *you
are my star.

I want to cry. I want to cry so ******* badly it hurts. This hurts. It all hurts so bad

It's been perpetuated. Archeologically timed, primed and adjusted. I am organically, a tartly steamed wallflower, hair wined from the petals of a dragon's breath, queen of ten sheets all blue and green like the nips of the Chesapeake Bay, tongue heavily cheeked, I am the bulb beneath the shrines of your muck, I am your weak-behind-the-knees, wallflower. The hue you pasted against the fours of your walls and only remember when your eyes trace your skies from the ceiling to your bedroom floor.

help me.
i think
I've forgotten
how to
breathe

i don't deserve your late night kisses

I wanna punch a wall in.
I wanna watch you kiss
my knuckles, almost like
watching your lips graze
against crumbling brick.

there is just.
So much.
To ******* say

and you feel the day slip away -

i lost my incredibly absolut day
to a wafer thin, cappuccino hued
boy who showed an infinity for
expressing his appreciation for
color and curiosity by outfitting
himself in raven blues and navy
blacks. and on his angular cheeks
and butterfly lashes, i caught the
honor of an absolut wink and a
flush of mischief. on the promise
of a full, absolute day, i felt my day
slip away as certain as his wingless
back held my eye and ducked down
a sunlit alley and i pulled my hoarsed
voice into whispering, "hello."

I feel dead people. Their presence steams as would a boiling kettle without a lid. I just can not see them with my foggy eyes. I feel them sweating me.

You talk to me about daisies
like my lungs are made
of their petals and my
eyes of their pollen,
and I am not afraid of
the way you held me-
I am afraid of the way
I kept on slipping back
to you as though your
shoulder was the only
one that I could rest my
head on as though your
chest was the only one
my hands could fall
asleep in, as though your
thighs were the only one
my fingers wanted to hold,
I am not afraid of the way
you held me. I am afraid
of the way your lashes paled
darker against your snow skin,
your eyes golden beneath
your char hair, I am afraid of the
way your hands felt of comfort
and still riddled with excitement,
I am okay. And not. All the same.
You talk to me as though my lungs
are made of daisies, you hold my arm
as though my body is it's stem, I am not
all the same and okay all at. Once.

lets speak like there are no periods
and keep our need for our tongues
to curve into commas and let our
lips visit the taste of hesitance only
when our breaths begin to hitch like
ragweed on the itch of a cough lets keep
talking like our lungs have no need for
replenishment lets keep speaking like
we have no need to stop

i'm sure, i'm sure
she's the kind of girl
you've got to love
*e v e r y  n i g h t.

there's this girl I know
who has never fallen in
love. people keep saying,
"how empty she must feel."
I keep thinking,
"how free she must be."

find myself wishing a little bit more each morning, noon and night for the rewind button on your remote control. those nights when we sat next to each other consumed with each other while consuming the screen before us, smoke aching our lungs as we grapple for new answers to old questions and old answers to new questions and all at once, I wish I had pressed paused, pulled my hair back and sunk to my knees. We could've mistaken it love but we understood the tensions of lust too much to fall prey and so instead we chose to fall in with the way  we spoke, the way we walked and the way we felt when our hands and thighs brushed each time we passed a spliff or a beer or each time our legs brushed, I remember it all down to the ache of my veins. "I understand what I am still too proud to mention, to you."

he has his demons of his own.
he has to, kind as he is-
to have fallen for something
as cruel as you.

there is no light in this land and the meek echo of ladle-pinned glands cut
tight against my skin and your ties.
there is no light for me to stand against, there is only you, casting silver dollar moonshadows for me to pulse and quake to. if I ever loved you, know that I loved you into yearning and out of simple hunger for sugar. If I ever loved you, know that I loved you as I needed you and every time after has been misrepresentation.

sometimes
my neck
can't
sustain
the heavy
ton weight
of my head
and it just
lets it
fall.

I can't stop thinking

We are not okay ok.
We are breaking and you are stitching
and I am mending and trying
and we. We are not okay ok.
We are never okay.
We are always confused
and never okay ok.

he gave me that:
put on an old coat
and slip a hand in
it's pockets
and pull out a
wadded up
bill. had me
feelin'
all kinds of
sunny.
that
old-new
kinda
money

the longer
I stare
at you;
the more
things
I find to
hate
about
you.

I fell apart at the mentioning of your name in rotation above and below the humdrum that jived around you. I smile just long enough for the song to end and my body to stop responding.
I held it together long enough to see through the music and fell apart at the after party. I imagined your name in blinking flourescent lights and shuddered at the images my mind conjured up of you, a constant spinning wheel.

His height, his heart, and his lips might be okay but darling his soul-

his soul is what seems to be blackened and therefore severely lacking.

he drowned in the last bits of the rain
as the sun washed the greyness
from our skin and highlighted his crimson
against the ever lengthening sky

though we have changed
separate of each other,
we are the same.

and because we
are the same,
that very much means
nothing has changed.

No one's ever died.

Everyone keeps living
and breathing
the same air.

No one's ever died before.
We just keep on recycling
their breaths.

I heave heavy breaths and I **die.

if they are soul mates
then what are we

Don't let them drown you

he choses all of the soft ones for me,
because he knows I can't handle
anything thicker than the
consistency of pudding. Repeats short
sentences 1, 2, 3 times over and
slows his words down to the pegs
of my breath. He won't go faster
than I can handle.

i don't have a heart for you to break

let's talk about his
peanut butter thighs
and his cashew eyes
his cloaked voice that
floods me when he
speaks, and his
big hands and thin
fingers. Let's talk about
all of his parts that make
him whole and makes
my eggplant legs go
bump bump
in the night.

If a woman tells you she feels ignored
                    drop your things and
          run to her.
If a man tells you he feels ignored
                  drop your everything
          and run away

You should hate me but you don't.
You should hate me but you won't.

The ghost in your eyes tells me it's gonna be alright. ****** senseless on what might as well have been a two stacked mattress at Holiday Inn, your girl closes her yes and sees orange tones of red flashing down the white sleeves of your bland shirt,

she's on fire, heavenly so, she's on fire, a can of crushed fruit stuffed and so you feel for me, your dreams of wooly women curved of sheep and soul-y wandering across your aim, you fire, "I'm into it." as you set my frame a-glow. My legs twist into pretzels, see me baby. I am your Amazonian woman, wide-shipped and shimmering beneath the angry sun.

Orange hued and hungry for your blue American Spirited high yellow lungs, you find my funkadellic paraphernalic lips, swollen as they are for your candor.

I am Queen Ivy inspire, lucidly waiting to be the poison that inspires you, I sit lonesome on the stoop of anabandoned lot, Peter Penning down your inked arms, "Not only boys are lost," into your caramel Cuban coffeed dreams, "Girls can be too."

What live game do I remind you of, I wonder as you taste me, bitter kola nut forming across your lips as white swells of smoke ruin you, we are unbearably distant. One never hurt and the other already ruined once before and possibly never again: That sickeningly silly kind of shy but not that lingers cold to the blue flames you expel my way as dark clouds form into your eyes.

I am your Amazonian woman.

i brushed up the shards of a
glass bottle with the broom
of my fingers, surprised when
its skin broke, giving way to
crystalline splinters, and you-
you took your mother's
tweezers and pulled out it's
bits. Band-Aid-ed my wounds,
holding my hand as it quivered
and my lips pulsed. I hated you
in that moment.

For being so tender.