maybe i fell  in  love  with the
way  you  would  look  at  me
and look away when i caught
you staring or maybe i fell  in
love  with  your   smile  when
you felt brave enough to keep
your gaze and maybe i fell  in
love   with   your  demanding
personality and your reckless
ability to abandon everything
or  maybe  i  fell  in  love with
your     dreams,     fears     and
twisted    thoughts   and   you
only   fell   in   love   with  my
s      u      r        f       a      c      e

I.
I've got piles of poems lying at the back of my mind
and they all whisper your name
and try to get me to cave
into the moons of your eyes
when you smile a little too hard and
they reach up until the sides of your irises.

But my heart always beats a little too much
and a little too late when I think about you.
It's singing love songs and causing chaos
ahead,
and above,
and all around this **** place.

And maybe, just maybe,
I'm in for much more than I expected
because I'm getting caught up
in potpourri promises
and hope—
stupid hope.

I've got so much on my mind,
and the majority has engraved
w o r r y
into the lining of my temporal lobe
because I cannot seem to shake out your voice
and your smile

and hands
and how they held mine with such clarity
and sincerity
and it's your laugh when you throw your head backwards in exasperation
and when you look at me with those eyes—
those crazy brown eyes.

II.
But I can't tell if I'm losing my mind again
or just throwing it around like a soccer ball
to feel something.

I just don't want you to wake up one day,
with fire in your eyes
and flames at your fingertips

trying to resist the steam rising from your ears
and your smile will fade into the smoke
and your eyes won't mirror my awe

because in that moment I might just burn to ash
at the sight of you changing your mind,
darling.

I might just disintegrate
at the thought of you turning around
and never looking back.

gd

discordant qualities
- a layered beauty
worn casually

- a complicated
pretty lady -

i paint her black
lace *******
- i praise her
on her knees.

r ~ 10/24/14

I tried crushing each memory like a shortening cigarette, but it's easier to allow yourself to die than to forget.

I stood in front of the mirror-the wall behind me scribbled in green-and I watched myself shave the weathered, brunette hairs off my cheeks, chin, lips, and jawline that you found so attractive and wrapped your lips around like a future reunion of, "Hi. I'm sorry for goodbye. I'm glad I met you again before I thought I would die."

And, in my head, I watched you approach my lips with yours.
And, in my head, I took a step back and started to tear up.
You asked me to kiss you, in my head.
And I shook my head, in my head.
You said you were sorry and got help, in my head.
You were better, in my head.
You were healthy, in my head.
But I'm aware some things may only live and die and say goodbye in my head.

I sat on the edge of my bed, no longer in my head, watching "Good Morning, Vietnam", and I remembered where I was when I learned that Robin Williams died. I remembered poking your thigh, in Starbucks, and wondering how long it'd take you to feel my finger or if you'd try to ignore the feeling, like most feelings. Your lips were red and your pants were black and on white, were black cats. And you were afraid to ask for your coffee. And once you sipped on your coffee, you left a red stain and it still appears in my head. And I relive every thing while being dissacioiated with my current life. And every kiss is a red stain in my head. Oh, great, we're back in my head. I guess we never left.

And I remembered when I knew you were dying and leaving and when I knew you had died and left. But I drowned those memories in ***** and suffocated them with smoke, until my body collapsed and until my lungs learned the cursive in every exhale.

In my head.
In my head.
In my head.
In my head.

Here I sit in the dark, watching 80's films. Because thirty years ago, there was no you and there was no me. I imagine it was a simpler time for the both of us.

A time where we never met.
But I'm glad I met you.
A time where we never kissed.
But I'm glad I kissed you.
A time where I didn't say,
"It's okay.
It's okay and it's always going to be okay
because I love you too."

It's not okay. It's not okay. Itsnotokay.itsnotokayitsnotokayitsnotokayitsnotokay

Tomorrow I will wake up, put on a t-shirt, boxers, socks, jeans, worn out Nikes, and a beat up flannel. I'll check my pulse, as I do my vitals, and I'll take my medications. I'll look at my bank account and determine how much money it'll take to forget you and how much more I wish I had so I could help you.

Is there a simpler way of saying I love you, or should I continue writing this album?

i’ve never had feelings for anyone who could be good for me. i’ve never been interested in someone where a good, healthy relationship could’ve resulted, and maybe that’s why i’m so jaded, because everyone i’ve ever liked has just been a distraction or a house on fire— someone i know i shouldn’t be involved with, but i’ll give myself just a few more days to run around frantically with my hands over my eyes, peaking through the cracks between my fingers, searching for things i know i don’t really need, and then i’ll dash out and run down the driveway and the smog will linger for a little while, and the neighbors will complain, and i’ll sit on the curb with my forehead on my knees, holding nothing but intangible regret. next, i’ll either get over it, or obsessively think about him and the ashes smudged on the inside of my eyelids for longer than my sanity. i’ve never really liked someone and been able to daydream about the real possibility of us turning into something greater; of tire swings and painted mailboxes and overgrown, green lawns. it’s always been pretending and fake hope and melodramatic doom. i think it’s messed up my perception of having feelings for someone, because i can never take it seriously— either i know he’s not right for me, or i know the circumstances prohibit the possibility of us. it makes me never want to give anyone a chance (i can’t even see anyone worth chance-giving) because i know how it ends. i don’t like having this closed off heart so early on; i’m too young to be this bitter.