I     a m     l o s t.
I  rowed  my  boat  out
I think I was looking for you
but it was all murky water and
thick swamp air. I swear I could
hear you shouting for me, hear
you playing your banjo, hear
you whispering my favorite
Neruda  poem,  hear  that
conversation     with
R   o   m   a    n
("So he won you over?"
"I played on her heart strings."
"Mmm, yeah, something like that.")
bubbling out of every ripple in the
water. I picked up my flashlight to see
your eyes, see that bump on the bridge
of your nose, see those pieces of hair
that always stick up, see your slow
s            m             i             l           e
(god, my all time favorite smile
ever    on   a   person's    face)
but my beam caught just a
glimmer of your   h a n d
before  it   burned   out
I'm certain it was you
so I threw it in the
green w a t e r in
my final act of
frustration.
I am lost.

I will not
apologize
for wanting
to know what
it would be like
to sleep near him,
to know what he sounded
like as he was drifting off, to see
his tired eyes in the morning.
Because I was trying to find
something in   someone else
for the first t i m e  in forever
and  that's  okay.   I  will  not
apologize     for being selfish
just this one   time when my
life  has  been  a     torrential
downpour           o f         m e
g                        
i      
     v
                       i
      n
g            
every   ounce   I  have inside
of me to   o t h e r   people up
until this point.  I just needed
to  know  how  it  would  feel
to  be  next  to  someone  ­new.

I  wonder  how  many
lifetimes I  have  lived
where    y o u    h a v e
****** me  over. How
many   centuries have
I   loved   you,   have  I
known your fingertips
better  than my  o w n,
have   I felt  t h a t  you
w e r e   my  answer in
everycrackand crevice
of  my  body?  In  what
life  will  you  get your
*******  ****  together?

most of my favorite songs have
become  prisons.  i  can  hear
the sound of you humming
beneathe every line and i
swear  i  c a n  feel  your
nose pressing into my
neck   w i t h    each
passing    chorus.

how do i learn to forget the ups and downs of your speech, the soft pressure of your fingers dragging down my skin, the promises at the end of your sentences and the hints of forever seeping out of the cracks in your dusty brick walls? at the end i think there were only a few spaces where you let me see you, let me in. i just wanted to be enough for you.

can
you
feel
my
f                    
          l               i                                        
o              n                  
         n              g              
                    g             e              
                               i              r              
                              ­         n              s      
                            g
for
you
from
across
this
town?

one year ago was
the conversation
(you know the one)
abouthowyouknew
were were meant to
be together. i had
thought this would
get easier but lately
i've been missing the
wayyouusedtosqueeze
my arm   and   tell me
something beautiful.
i wish i could ask
you to come back
to me but i know
you'll pick her
every time.
i'm sorry
i loved
you as
much
as i
did
without warning.
i hope
someday
your heart
will find mine
again,   though.

i barely  dream  about
your  fingers  i  barely
dream  about    y o u r
fingers i barely dream
a b o u t  your  fingers

there is a hurricane
flooding into all of
my empty rooms.
the problem is that
i would rather be
quartered than live
with these weeds
growing up my
esophagus and this
tunnel in my stomach.
i thought it would
hurt less by now.

I
don't
know
what else
to say except
that I am here,
Ryan. I am always
here.

how
m a n y
times   d o
i have   to tell
myself  it's  okay
to feel like there is an
entire tree growing inside
me  before  i  actually  accept
it

I'd
let this
w e a t h e r
pool up to my
door through my
windows across my
living room floor if
it     would     just
remind  you  of
m         e
.

I swear I just walked
right in with my heart
and begged "here have
this, have this, have this"
and I don't think you were
ready. I'm so sorry I put
my problems in your
care, but thank you for
taking them anyway and
tucking them neatly into
the pocket on the front of
your shirt (where I think
you intend to keep them).
You are the loveliest
person I've ever been
(and ever will be)
allowed to call my own.

I
always
keep driving
until I get to where
there's  nothing  but
trees and curves and
sometimes water, until I
forget what I was running
from in the first place.
There is something
so comforting
about open
road
s
o
l
i
t
u
d
e
.

what
do  you
do     now
that    i    am
not                 a
part                    of
your                       life
do                          your
hands                    feel
the                 same
do             your
hands   feel
the  same

When I was little I wanted to be
a teacher and change lives, but
now I just want to find a way to
speak in phrases that make sense.
I'm not sure what I'm doing, and I
wish I could put my ear to the earth
and have her whisper me directions
to my future. There has to be an easier
way. Because I have been losing myself
in the remnants of things I never really
had. How do I go back how do I move
forward how do I forget? It's too hard.

i feel you under my skin
not like a bug, no, but like
a warmth spreading up my
arms toward my ears
is my face red
can you see how deeply you
are a part of me
do you feel me in your hands
or running down the length of
your neck? i wanted to live
there at one point. god, i
still do, if we're both being
honest here. i don't think i
will ever do anything to rid
myself of you.