those aren't dreams, those are goals*
I stopped using that puny voice
and hiding behind the avocados
in my cobb salad. and who are
you to to define the space between
my fingers, the gaps between my
teeth? Dear Wyatt, feel honored
because for a moment you breathed
my dreams.

you
w i l l
always
be white
noise,    a
thrumming
in my fingertips
as i'm falling asleep,
a long-existing ache in
my chest from not telling
you  i loved  you for  too
many months. i wanted
you- hot  and  cold and
not being able to break
from you- but i cannot
want you anymore,
cannot   miss   you
anymore, cannot
dream about
y   o   u   r
p r o m i s e s
and your laugh,
cannot wake up
hoping you've
walked out of
mymindand
f  o  u  n  d
yourself    in
the extra space
in   my   bed.   i
missyou,though.
how sad is that, to
miss  someone  who
carved me out to   make
room for  w h a t  i thought
was himself and filled me only
with  beautiful  words  that  were
empty                    ­                      
                                    empty
­empty.                          
i want to move on
i want to move
i want to
i want
i

If I could track myself down
(go back to when I completely
lost myself in you) I'm sure I'd
be on your couch with that
white blanket and your
h  e  a  r  t  b  e  a  t
racingracingracing
beneathe my ear. How
does
it feel to sit there without
me now? I wonder if you miss
me, do you wish         you could call
me, do you wish you could kiss
my fingers like you used to? I
had a dream last night
that we got married
on a jungle gym.