i wish my hands didn't shake
every time you say my name,
but i am only
human

i haven't believed in
anyone ever
like i believe in
you.

last night i went through old polaroids
of when you were still around-
the edges had faded and i couldn't
remember if they had once been coloured
or if the pictures had always been
black and white.  i tried to think back
to the exact moments they were taken, but
i couldn't get dates to stick in my head,
just the sound of your laugh right after
the camera had clicked- (it changed almost monthly,
and it was the only way i judged the
passing of time back then)

when i put them away to get some sleep,
i dreamt of your new laugh, and when i woke up
i realized i wasn't able to hear it.

you took every
fear i had about
inadequacy
and turned them
from mountains to
speed bumps,
reminding me
to slow down,
but never stop

i am licking
last night's prayers
off of my lips
and hoping that
this can
still be made
right

i keep my hands held close to my sides
for fear that if i dare stretch them too far
i may burn my fingers upon the edge of the stars--
       (i suppose the fear i know is just a side effect of
       having lost things i've loved far too long
       and loving things too lost to play along)

hold me*
        he asked,

(but my hands
     were too
    full)

i don't need you to hold my hand
anymore to reassure me that you're there,
but sometimes i still get scared, so
i'm begging you tonight--
                                             please
                                                       don't
                                                               *go

the boy you love is in your bed and
he is shaking

you wonder if it will always be like this,
tremors through his arms and legs, or if this
is only because he is wrapped in sheets that
smell like someone else.  so you offer him a bowl,
partly to calm him down but mostly because
when he takes a drag he cups his hands and
bows his head and it looks to you like he is
praying and his hands are still shaking and you
wonder if he has faith in anything and if not
maybe that thing could be you

so you clime beside him and you inhale as
he exhales and for a moment he is
                                                                                          still

the boy you love is in your bed and
you are shaking

it'll be easy to forget you
                                   (he said)
i would have preferred a simple
                  ********
            instead.

"i heard you crying in the shower," margo says.

i put my book down beside me.  i blink, margo blinks.  her hair drips beads of water onto my carpet.

"yes," i reply.

"does that mean you're still sad?" she asks.

"no...yes- well, not really. not in the sense you're thinking," i say.

"oh."

"yeah."

margo makes her way from the doorway to my bed and takes a seat at the foot.  she's still wearing a towel instead of clothes, and her skin is pink from the heat of her shower.  she looks like she has more to say, but i don't ask, so she doesn't tell.  instead, we just sit and watch each other.  i wonder what the hospital has made me look like to her, and she probably wonders if i actually love her enough to get better this time, or if i was just saying it to make her happy.

"since when do you wear make-up, kiddo?" i ask, hoping to break the silence.  the black lines underneath her eyes are suddenly the only things i can pay attention to.

"i don't know.  i guess right after you left," she says.

"oh."

"yeah."

i am trying
to convince myself
that we are
immortal

i'm unraveling just as quickly
as your words,
and here we are
falling
again,
but this time,
not in the
right
way.

i have burned bridges
and put out their fires with
bare hands, tried to make
something of the ashes
because i always thought
moving forward was the
best way to deal until
i wasn't able to go back

i just want to
know what it's like
to not feel alone
when i go to
sleep.

i just want to sit and be
still with you, but
my heart never slows
when you're around and
i always end up searching
dead ends for what words
to use next

(my fingers still shake at the
mention of your name)

it was so dark that i couldn't see
his hand slip into mine, and i was numb enough
by the end of the night that my head didn't realize
what it meant when he reached under my skirt;
for the first time in a long time i felt something,
even if it was only skin against bone
(i had already known i was
a skeleton of what i used to be)  

later, another boy came along
and kissed my bruises away
(ones i didn't even know i had until
they were gone, but i felt them like
phantom limbs when he had to leave)
and every time his fingers touched
mine i felt it deep in my chest, like a
kick-drum pounding over and over again
                (i thought maybe love like that could never end,

but really, he was just another dream waiting
to become a nightmare)

silence can be a beautiful thing
when it blankets the cold
of a kitchen floor;
(there is something lovely
about the lines of your hands
and the peculiar smile that
plays at your lips
when you can not voice
what you need to speak)

you whispered to me
        -it's amazing how much
        you can say
        without words-
in the quiet, i
could not help but tell you
i love you
a thousand times over.

the problem is that none of
them are you; i don't know if
that's how love works, or if
this is just fear

i used to have all the words
in the world
at the tips of my fingers,
waiting to be written
down or maybe even
touched to my lips
to be sung

have i said all there
is to be said?

i just want a boy like
holden caulfield-
maybe not all yellow,
but a great whistler

someone who reads novels
before he goes to bed

somebody to catch me
when i dance to close to the edge

i guess that's all i could
ever really ask for.

i didn't mind when you
walked away, and i didn't pretend
to ignore it when you looked back
twice, but (in all honesty),
a goodbye would have been nice

sometimes, i wonder
if you still cry
when you hear our song
(just like i do)

and i know it's selfish
but i still hope that every
love poem you write
makes you think of
me

i am not in love
with you, but i am in love
with the way you smile

when you get simply
overwhelmed by something too
beautiful for words

you said
i heard that when
people are in love,
their hearts beat in sync
and you squeezed
my fingers
where my  pulse
raced in time with
yours

for the first time
i am not staying alive
for the good of
every one else

(for the first time
i'm learning
how to love myself)

i can't dive right in anymore-
i gave up baby steps
when i thought life
was about taking chances,
but i take it back

i can't do this anymore

i need somebody to guide me slowly
so i don't choke,
because i'm terrified of drowning now
after all the times i've been
held under for too long

(thank you for knowing this
and keeping me afloat)

i have run
out of words
to give to
you
.

i'm sorry,
some things just don't
change-

(you could tell me
you still love me
one thousand times
and it wouldn't
make a difference;
i started tracing
his name into
the margins of my
school papers long
before you were
gone)

maybe it's time we just
forget

i'm scared of falling in                
love again (because i don't                                    
want to be more fragile than)
i already am

attraction is just
a synthetic reaction,
but we've got
*chemistry

and i always like to remind myself
how bad i am with words,
but here we are--
                             i can't stop talking, and this is
                             the least understandable i've been in
                             months but the most understanding
                             you've been ever
        (my thoughts are illegible but
        your concern is poetry)

when i asked you why you hate
thursdays, your hands twitched,
and all i wanted
was to hold them close

you told me to stop chasing,
but you didn't say to give up.
since then i have stopped
clawing my way through the galaxies
to get to you--

instead, i hooked myself to the last star
you painted your name on
(and i will never stop waiting there
for you to return).

i stopped wearing my heart on my sleeve,
when you peeled it off and made it your home;
now i keep it hidden away
somewhere within the depths of your own.

tonight i wanted to
paint wings across
your shoulder
blades.

his fingers dance across
my shoulder blades and down
my arm until they reach my
hands, where they trace patterns
on my palm

you're safe with me, i
swear, he says

                             and i believe him

i've been thinking about
how your favourite word
is ephemeral because
everything in your life
is so ******* fleeting

and i don't want to be
that way too

you think nobody's been
listening, but i always
did

i'm sorry i hid,
but seeing you would have meant saying
goodbye all over again,
and i wanted to keep your last words to me
'i love you too'

i wouldn't mind if
for the rest of my life
i never saw anything
other than
ocean.

i want you to tell
me that none of this
matters,
that one day i will
be okay, someday soon
i'll forget about pain

i don't know what
to say to
make things
okay.

the thing about addiction
is that a person
can be rid of it for
years, then relapse at any
moment of exposure
to their poison

(and this is what loving
you feels like)