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

Forever letting
people treat me
like I'm inadequate.
I don't feel right
in this skin.

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

and I'm not
religious
but you're
the closest
I've ever
come to what
people call
Heaven

i loved
you in
pajamas
and royals
shirts, black lungs
and black tongues and
windy mornings heading
to the train while you pulled
me along behind yourself in a
fury of cigarette smoke and sea
water stored in your fingers
i never expected us to be
anything to be apple pie
and an i love you from
your mouth in your
grandma's living
room i was
content with the
bit of you in chicago
i had swished between
my teeth i did not want
those coffee shop
goodbyes
i did not want those
coffee shop goodbyes

modest mouse tastes like you
and i wonder how you could
have left such a stain running
down my throat
down my right forearm
maybe i should just get the
color tattooed into my skin the
way it wants to be but would
it bleed into the marks
from her
and him
and him
did i bruise them the same way
do they walk through life with
my name etched into their
elbows or trailing down the
length of their spines or have
they covered it up with sweaters
and bandaids
what did i leave with you
besides the last remaining shreds
of my tattered sanity
is there any residue of my laugh
lingering on the curve of your
bottom lip or do you smell my
shampoo on your pillows
have you found my name
on you have you found my
name on you have you
found my name on you

how do you get to a point
when you no longer
recognize the person
you are- when the hands
you've watched every day
become two strangers
hanging on your arms, when
your words taste dry and
sour rolling off your own tongue?
more importantly, how do
you find your way back?

it's comforting to know that
someday my skin will
forget what it feels
like to touch
yours

and that worn out
spot- third rib down,
two inches to the
right- where i used
to tuck away all your
beautiful words, that
i cleaned out, scraped
out, scrubbed out,
bleached, rinsed,
repeated until there
was no more lingering
after burn of the things
that used to call it
home has finally started
to cool. i am waiting
for my wings to
remember that they
had a purpose before
you, that they do not
need to be licked or
pampered before they
are functional again.
i am a hot air balloon,
a lily pad, a new moon.
******* for ever having
made me think i could
be anything less.

what i would miss most is the
way she says my name
calls me "sweetie"
calls me "meggie"
says "i don't know what i would do
without you and your sister"
i've been collecting these words
since the day i was born
(her birthday, too)
been storing them in
locket after locket
jewelry box after jewelry box
always worried i'll
run out of space but for her i
would buy a thousand jewelry boxes
ten thousand lockets so i can
remember her voice until i'm
two hundred years old
so i can show my kids
how grandma whispered
how grandma laughed
how grandma loved

You said,
"I'm not
worried
though
because
my heart
belongs
entirely
to you."

I only want  you
to  think  of   me
as someone  you
can  call  "home"

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.

I have been
living in people's
dumpsters for too
long now god
won't someone
please just invite
me inside for once

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
.

i wonder
how you would
feel if you knew
that i have fallen
for someone else,
someone who holds
me like my hands are
made of porcelain and
my heart of crystal,
someone who smells like
winter and cigarettes and
wind, someone who looks at
me like he knows how many
times i have traveled the earth
to find him. i wonder if you
want me to be happy.

It is weird that I will never go to a
Foxlin show, never hear the songs
you claim are about me, never let
the words run across the floor and
up my legs, never let them settle
deep down in the gaping hole you
left just to the right of my heart.

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?

you were a
month for
healing, for
becoming
whole again

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.

My hair was wet and
in knots. I apologized
for coming over
unannounced and
messy but you shook
your head. You said
"No, you look so
beautiful. You always
look beautiful."

If I could track myself down
(go back to when I completely
lost myself in you) I'm sure I'd
be on your couch with that
white blanket and your
h  e  a  r  t  b  e  a  t
racingracingracing
beneathe my ear. How
does
it feel to sit there without
me now? I wonder if you miss
me, do you wish         you could call
me, do you wish you could kiss
my fingers like you used to? I
had a dream last night
that we got married
on a jungle gym.

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.

and while you may have
known my favorite poet
and what i watch when
i'm sad you did not know
my heart, did not
understand its cadence,
never took the time to
listen to the way it
whispered your name
into the outermost layer
of my lungs so that i
could breathe it out
when i spoke to you.

I
think
I lost you
somewhere
between your
mouth

and

your



                                            

                                          heart.

heartbeat

i have
been trying
to remember
to pay attention
to my body when
i'm walking, to not
forget it is me in here
but is it me in here with
these storms and hurried
thoughts i have been reaching
for a long time toward some
kind of reconciliation and
it is getting further and
further away from me
my forever ending
was not so forever
was not so final
was not what
i had hoped
it would be
who  am i
if not the
owner  of
these hands
when did my
will to fight run
so fast i could not
catch her i could not
begin to keep up with
her dreams and all of her
ambitions but she calls to me
from somewhere so far away i
can justbarelymakeoutthewords
please     don't     lose      me      but
i am struggling through weeds
and branches that are too thick
and she cries for me from the
top of a mountain from the
top of where i used to
keep     his     heart
put yourself here
she says
put yourself here


heartbeat

I am what Webster's defines
as a wreck
a mess
a disaster
because lately I've been
missing you so much that my
legs ache, that I can barely
speak around the knot in
my chest when I see you.
how do you tell someone you
don't know how to be without
them without sounding desperate?
I only know how to love you
in the scariest ways.

there used to be this
seam running through
a cushion on my couch
and i picked it picked it
picked it out of nervous
habit, mostly, and people
were starting to notice it.
i borrowed some thread
from my mom yesterday
and sewed it up, finally.
it felt a little like closure.
it felt a little bit like
goodbye, ryan.