We **** to understand each other.
your brooding silence
my mix-matched, symbolic language
the heat of your eyelashes and the weight of your smile
my fractured, silken curves and the reminiscent scent of the afternoon on our skin
the secrets hidden behind your teeth
the way your hands change with your personality
the reason my lips feel different when you smile
when I’m tired; when your eyes are slits and mine are open; when your memories are deeper than mine

We **** to get to know each other,
to feel safe when you drive fast
and to feel scared when you don’t.

We **** to feel something:
passion
love
sadness
hope
warmth

We **** to get rid of the sour taste that lingers on our tongues
simply because we don’t understand each other.

We **** because we shouldn’t.
Because no is more tempting than yes.
Because what I want
is not what I express.

We **** without speaking
Because ******* is a language,
Because the secrets hidden behind your teeth and in my smile and in my hips
are not secrets we are willing to speak.

We are alive.
We are human.
But we are alone.

what is it that bones are saying,
so trapped and silenced by their fate beneath
skin?
whose idea was skin?
let it wash off: your flesh is a figment of your imagination.
I suppose I wouldn't be soft anymore
but I wouldn't have to open my mouth
for people to hear my secrets.

bones are trees
with initials carved in
and hearts left whole
when they have really been broken.
bones have deeper thoughts than you
or the circles that spiral the trunk of a thousand year old
stump.

bones know nothing
and everything.
you don't have to tell them.
they are made of whispers, too afraid
to say anything aloud
(though they wouldn't be heard if they did).

for years we have
speculated,
wondered why the earth's bones
are so very brittle
and why ours are so very
small;
smaller than the thoughts we pretend to think
when we avoid eye contact or run out of things to say.
what lies between one and the next
is simply a breath we neglected to take
when we were waiting to hear if everything was going to be okay.

bones are wise.
without listening we cant see.
what is the point of walking around with our hands over our eyes
and looking for our beds
when we can lie down,
remember to breathe,
and rest in the gentle hand
that we've always pushed away?

words are the stones you used
to shut the water out;
dammed
and silent until broken,
like the promises lost in a whisper
and misconstrued by hopeful
ears.

where are you taking me?
I can’t travel far without my oxygen mask
and my flask of dreams, filled
to the brim
with something sour
which smells shockingly similar to
lies.

always a different color than you
think. Red:
sweet and lonely,
can be everyone’s lover.
but when it comes to
parenting, no one knows ****.
I don’t blame you.
I have too many fingers for that,
too many fingers to count the names
you’ve called me
but just enough to count the ones that have
stung.

final offer:
going once. I’m not up for twice.
the world has secrets you wouldn’t
understand, but at least
you can close your eyes,
count to ten,
and disappear.
Some of us have the luxury of death,
while others have the burden of
living.

when I'm out of words I listen to you
I know it can't always be so simple
—that's a lie:
it can.
Life is so simple.

I miss having you touch me.
When I see others kiss, I feel your lips
against mine
and I imagine that they never leave.
They're glued to me...we're glued to each other.
I want you so close to me that I no longer
feel the separation;
so close that I know you'll never leave.
I want to hold you and
sleep comfortably in your arms
the whole night through.

The thought of our future moves me forward:
words seep into thoughts
                          thoughts seep into actions
and my mine is on it's own.

I miss you so much it hurts,
but I love you so much more.

when kisses feel like melted butter
stuck to your fingers,
it’s a warning sign.
it’s easier to listen (sometimes)
if you close your eyes and pretend you’re on an airplane.

there are too many people who say “I”
when they should say “we”
and it makes the boat sink faster than it has to.
when we have to abandon ship, we will,
but for now let’s hope the winds die down
and the lighting keeps striking someone else.
now say I’m the captain
SAY IT

I wouldn't have controlled myself
but every now and then the world hands you a child and tells you “love something”
and you can’t help it:
it’s easy to cry when you can empathize.

we’ve been pretending for so long that we fight for different teams
that now it’s hard to look at each other
especially as **** as we are
in this moment
I can barely touch you (it burns)
(but not as hot as my own skin).
if we made love we would hate it.

surprises
are something I will always remember pleasantly
my brain associated them with love
and now when the phone rings
when there’s a knock at the door
when someone taps my shoulder
my heart skips a beat.
thump
could it be?
thump

I’ve died a million times before,
but somehow this time was more difficult.

Those moments are the best ones:
the awkward instances where I start to get upset,
but when I think back to them now I smile because, even if I hate it,
these are the reasons I love you.

I used to think that I would tire of your little mistakes
or the jumps in your voice
how you sing slightly out of tune,
but now I only hope to hear you hum again
and wait all day in anticipation
of your voice.

It should have been easier to say it I suppose
but it's hard to speak after such a long silence.
I know your mouth is as dry as mine
(which should make for an interesting kiss)
but I will kiss you nonetheless.
There's nothing I want more.

When I think of how one can seem so much less than the other,
it only becomes more clear how much of a hero you are.
I can't believe I was selfish enough to think I deserved you,
but I'm the lucky one.

One comes to these realizations without prompt,
generally,
and I think that is the best way.
Who needs a reminder when life itself is enough to remind me
of my love for you?

Who knows if it’s easier to breathe through your mouth
or through your nose
but lately I’ve had trouble breathing at all.
It may have something to do with the fact that I keep going underwater,
but I can’t help it. I swear I’ve grown fins a few times.
Maybe I’m just meant to swim.

There’s no right or wrong color for your hair.
A man told me last week that I had too many secrets
and since then I’ve been trying to remember what they are,
but I just can’t.

When you give me butterfly kisses
I can see an iceberg in your eyes
and I wonder if it will ever melt, or if I’ll have to do it myself.
Remember
when you told me that you were different?
I asked you why
and you said it was because of me
or at least something I’d said.
I’ve never felt so powerful in my life.

I lost the feeling in my left pinky
when you told me to stop crying
it’s not that easy.
If I want to love someone I’ll do it all the way. There’s no
“in between.”
And besides helping me to forget easily,
you’ve shown me that things I thought were possible
are impossible.

I’ve been so disconnected; I hope you can forgive me.
I am asking a lot, and
I can grasp that, but
there are so many things I still need to tell you.
My mind’s flown off with a butterfly, so
what am I left with?

Once, I asked for directions when I knew where I was going
because there’s more than one way to be right.
I guess I was trying to teach myself a lesson that I already knew.

Sometimes life isn’t about living at all,
it’s about learning and teaching and still not knowing anything.