you do not fall at my
feet yet you make me
feel that i am golden.

my favorite teacher in high school
told me that once  you step  in a
river, you and that river  w i l l
never   be   the   same.   and   i
wonder if we are  l i k e  that
with  each  o t h e r.  do  we
stamp our thumbprints on
people's  chests,  do   w e
never     f o r g e t      the
omnipresent    memory
ofthethings thatwere?
your  t h i n g s   are
swimming in  t h e
gulf of  mexico by
n o w,  i assume-
that     pathetic
letter a b o u t
h o w   y o u
d r e a m e d
you  would
losethelove
of your life
(   m   e   )
forever
(you  did)
is    soaked
and  bleeding
out of its creases-
but i  will  probably
always  remember  the
curve of your mouth and
the sharpness of your laugh.
i do not remember you fondly,
no never fondly, and i only ever
want  to  drink  another  virgil's
rootbeer if i can spit  i t  in your
face  afterward, but i'm  hoping
someday i will   bleed like your
words and god i  will   fly, i can
promise you that. you did   not
break me, you  only taught me
t h a t     hearts,   t h e y     need
styrofoam    fencing-     s o m e
padding but nothing like your
cement  b l o c k s-  and  that  i
deservebetter. ideserveorchids
a n d  sunflowers,   homemade
jam in the middle  of the night
because  us sleeping is out  o f
the question and jesus *******
c h r i s t i deserve a heart that
has nobarriers. i want to bethe
r i v e r,     stampeding    i n t o
someone's life like the scariest
thing they've  ever seen until i
have taught  them  everything
they   could   want   t o   know
a b o u t   the  ramones    a n d
fleetwood m a c  and painting
with  your  eyes  closed. i  just
want     t o    b e     t h e    river.

my journal is two
inches thick with
words about your
eyes and I wonder
if you love me
that much.

I was never
going to be
enough for you
because I'm not
strong and I'm
not as smart as
you used to tell
me, and you
were so smart-
god were you
brilliant- but you
always used these
drugged-up phrases
and I never kept
your pace at any
point. So why did
we keep trying
when we didn't
get each other and
our hands didn't
even match right
in the first place?
I let you press
your name all
over my body
but in the end
I just couldn't
figure out how
to put myself
in your lungs.

i wanted it all- your
picket fence promises
and the daisies on the
last   digit   of   your
f   i   n  g   e   r   s

funny that we
become stories in
other people's chests,
that we can spend days
weeks months years
centuries carving every
letter of every word that's
been spoken to us on the
inside of our ribs while
others are content to just
let the syllables fall in their
normal rhythms across their
lungs and no they wouldn't
mind if some of the words
caught on a bronchial tube
or two but it wouldn't be
the end of the world if
they didn't.

i have let you keep me up at night for
too long. there used to be a limit to what i
would allow myself to do- how much i would
allow myself to think of you, to remember your
temperaments and the sound of your footsteps-
but i think i've forgotten what and where that
line was. lately i've been scared to be another
placeholder, scared to get attached to someone
new, scared to understand someone else's hand
gestures. i used to love the way you could paint
our future with your fingertips across the air,
across my skin, across my skin.

I have tried to
detach myself
from you but
you have sunk
the deepest
hook into my
stomach that
just turning
away from
you is painful
enough.

Maybe someday you'll love
me despite my emotional
ends to fifteen hour days
and those moments where
my words get fuzzy from
talking too much and my
no-shower-in-two-days
hair, and I hope the fact
that I have had trouble
finding God for the past
few years doesn't disturb
you as much as it does me.

slowly i have found myself
growing more and more
envious of the sheets you
sleep with or the wind that
is allowed to wrap around
you.

i
l  i  k  e
y o u r    ***
breath  and   t h e
way  your  hair  seems
to grow from you running
your fingers     through it
through   it   through   it
until your bones settle
in   m y       h a n d s.

You are
not the
only
one
who's
scared.
I
promise,
I promise.

I remember the first
time we kissed in
your living room on
one of the hottest
days in June. You
spun me in a circle
to the sound of that
new French record
you had just bought
and then you pulled
me to you
quietly
gently
and with a fire in every
crevice of my body
I said, "You're
tall. I like that." You
ran your thumb down
my ear, whispered,
"I like you" into my
forehead.

back the first time you said "I'm not
worried because I know our story
isn't even close to finished"
and I didn't believe you.

I still don't
believe
you.

as much as i don't have my ****
together (as much as i forget to
do my dishes or take out the
trash or breathe regularly) i
would have figured myself
out for you,   would have
taught myself to be tidy
and small, would have
studied   the    art    of
going  a   f u l l   day
without  having  a
panic       attack,
would   h a v e
read   up   on
how  to  get
myself  out
of bed and
i n t o  the
s h o w e r
every  day.
i     haven't
watered my
plants   since
the  first  week
o  f      j  u  n  e.

who I want to be is
trapped beneath my
skin, stretching
stretching,
tearing at my
seams.
she cries, "let him go
and the wound will
set me free. oh, god,
please."

i don't want to love
you  i  just  want  to
sleep   next  to   you

when i was
little my
parents
said
i was
growing
like a ****
(and maybe
i still am) but
what if i want
to grow like
something
else?

i
can
only
write
about the
tsunami  in
my  v e i n s  so
many times before
the  words      stop
being real to me

and while you were
a willow he is an oak,
a redwood, a maple,
a sequoia- the mightiest
tree- standing humbly
and unassuming in my
background until i
stumbled over one of
his roots and decided
to follow them back to
find leaves that were
so sweet, so smooth,
so familiar on my tongue.

if you were here i like to
think that i would yell, i
would scream (because
even after all of this i
haven't lost my will to
be boisterously loud) or
maybe I would hit you
(god I've never actually
put my hands on another
person unless it was soft
and meant "hey i love you
please don't leave me")
i just want you to feel the
thunderstorm tumbling inside
me how can i make you see
that how can i make you see
that how can i make you i
wanted to buy a house with
you, you ******* *******

If I could
go back I
would
fall for you
instead of
wasting my
time on
another.
You once
told me I
made you
feel safe
and I'm
so sorry
I left you
alone like
that. I
forgot the
sound of your
heartbeat for
just a second
and heard
someone
else's at the
wrong time.
I'm
sorry, I'm
sorry.

If I were to go into my own
head I would stumble blind
through a sea of your hands
covering your knees
and the echo of your voice
Because I love you. I do,
I love you.
would be deafening. I can't
fathom how I am even using
my legs these days.

how was today not enough for me when
today was you and that antique store you
love and you being so completely you.
when you dropped me off at my door you
waved the way I love with just your index
finger and I wanted to ask you to stay, to
come up and be quiet with me in my drafty
apartment, but instead I just watched
you wink at me and disappear around
the corner. why didn't I ask you to stay?

you made me
want to go

slower,

breathe
deep er,
notice the
dots you get
on your   face
when  you  need
to shave or the small
fluttering in my chest
when you just said simple
things like "chill out" or
"yeah?" and now i only
want to speed up my
hours   until  i  feel
like   i  can   walk
without my legs
r e m i n d ing
m e        o f
y    o    u
.

I want to do something


B                            I                            G


with my life but I'm
finding it so much
easier to be content
with living small.

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

I've
done
nothing
for the
past six
months
but be
lost in
you.

you built a house across the
street from my apartment
on the roof of the parking
garage where we shared
part of your last hours in
this town. i asked you if i
could make your space our
space but you shook your
head, did that squinty eye
thing i have come to love,
said "no, gorgeous, not yet"

I love you because I
can't find a way to
make your words
into something
more beautiful
than they
already
are.

i am in love with the
messesstickysweetgum
glued to my windpipe
please destroy me with
promises and feed me
forever's straight from
the palm of your hand
because i will store them
when you have given
up already and moved
on i swear i will still
hear them rumbling
from under my bed after
you are long gone