maybe you didn’t feel it
when i licked myself
off of your lips.

maybe you didn’t feel it
when i traced the back of
your knees with my fingertips.

maybe you didn’t feel it
when you rolled over in the
morning and saw how well we fit.

i knew it when you
picked the eyelash off my  
cheek because it felt like a kiss.

i knew it when you
took the long way home so there’d
be a few less seconds to miss.

i knew it when you
would wake up and leave me because
my heart would contort into a fist-

all so i’d never have to let you go.
but you would never know.

someone let their black balloon go
and i hope it finds you
a better, wiser, kinder man
than i once knew.
doesn't show love by
leaving a bruise.
childish selfishness saying
that i belong to him
and him to me.
i didn't take your breath away
so you didn't want to stay.
okay.

Textbooks tell me 

Nature is evolving 

Changing at such a slow 

And steady pace

That we cannot see the difference

From day to day.

I think-

I want so much more for myself

I want to be a hero

And a dreamer 

A believer

For myself.

I want to be something better
All for myself.

I get frustrated when 

I am forced to wait 

For the things that I want

For anything at all.

I think-

I am evolving at a slow

And sometimes steady pace

One day I will be

An ocean where there once

Was trees 

Like forgetting to crawl 

And learning to walk on two feet

I am changing.

It will show eventually.

you shrewd mistress.
when you are restless you raise
mountains with your power over
the earth then claim
no one made the effort to climb against
you

you shrewd mistress.
arranging daisies by color,
shape, liveliness and smell.
pulling petals till your fingers bleed
all so you can feel well
you

you shrewd mistress.
tossing and turning,
finding the hidden meaning behind your dreams
sitting next to strangers,
thinking about all the love there could be
between him and
you

you shrewd mistress.
standing quietly in the cold,
you’d never make a fuss.
just wait for it to build up and over,
build another mountain
wait for someone
anyone
to climb over to
you.

you are a
devil hiding in the details
i would rather not explore.
waiting behind every corner,
an omen I try to ignore.
you hold me by my throat
every single night in my sleep.
kissing, shoving your split tongue
down my throat to muffle my screams.
a kind of haunting no one else knows.
a nightmare like sequence,
some kind of hellish dream.
I wake up to find you
sleeping peacefully beside me.

I burned up in your atmosphere
Just trying to
Get close enough to touch you
Just trying to get
Close enough to hear you say
“Yeah, I love you too”

You do?

I started a book about you
Drenched in ******* sweat
And drunken verses that you would
Never really get unless
You took the time to listen
And hear me

The sizzle and crackle
Of everything about me
Burning

Because of you.

I only know how to
Write about heartbreaks
Or heart beats
And could have beens
Because you taught me that,
You showed me that
It wasn’t poetry until
I destroyed everything about me
That once was
That could’ve been.

I’m good at free falling
And floating
Pretty good at burning
Up for only you.

i’m sorry i cried when you touched me
i wasn’t used to fingers
feeling like feathers
and hands holding me
like a kind of ripe fruit.

lovers before you
were a bit more heavy handed
hard headed
tossing me around like some old toy
that they were tired of
uninspired and
wringing me like
i somehow had the answers
tucked so far in deep.

i am not used to being handled
gently.

a kiss does not always mean
"i love you"

sometimes it means
"i am sorry"
and sometimes it means
"i have to go"

i have had kisses that taste like
alcohol, sweat and stinging regret.
i have had kisses that were laced
with desperation as their tongue
wrestled with mine.

i have had kisses that left me feeling
more empty about myself than good.
i have had kisses that never should
have happened, ones i wanted to take back.
jesus christ, i wish i could.

there are kisses i have given
that were so passionately deep
only because i was trying to find something,
maybe searching for the thing that
no one could ever find inside of me.

there are kisses that have broken my heart.
and there are kisses that never happened,
but still managed to make me fall apart.

kisses that made me a mess of ****** cliches.
kisses that kept warning me,
kept signaling me to stay away.

you did not shake or shiver when the
hunter grabbed you by the throat and
tried to tear your skin off head to toe.
no one respects a crying king.

once,
you ran across and through the
jungle and roared loud enough to shake
the galaxies above and down under.
there was no force strong enough to hold you down.

lover,
you think of your father when you think about
what it means to be a man and you
work your hands to the bone so your son
will think of you too
when he is running through the jungle
yelling at the moon.

my lion.
you did not shake or shiver when the
hunter dug his fingertips underneath your ribs
to laugh and see if he could do it.
you didn’t flinch when he pulled out the
incissor and cut down
every single one of your claws

no.
armor does not make a soldier
and a crown does not make a king.
the hunter skinned you head to toe,
my lion
and you never made a peep.

i can still feel the tiny feet
of the static that
was running marathons when we first kissed.

i can still feel your burning
touch against my skin
and the times you
slipped your tongue in-

i can still feel you in colors like
lavender and grey
the silkiness of the sheets
the hex your body placed upon me.

i can still feel you like
a tug at my entire core.
i am always the one
who wants more.

call me a mess then
pack me into boxes. place me
on the driveway with your old
mattress and couches
better off with a guy who says i'm only
worth a dollar and 50 cents tell him to
buy your mother of pearl lamp set
and throw me in for free instead
i swear i did not make this up in my head
call me a mess then
pack me into boxes, along with
the 23 poems i wrote for you
a garage sale display of my
shattered periphery

i swear i did not make this up in my head

this kind of desperation gets repetitive
and i forget the words i used to know
just to make more space for your name

and it overflows from between my lips
and dribbles down my chin, to my pen
onto the letters i will never think to send.

you were the passing breeze
the humming sound of working bees
the touch and go motion of a strip tease  
like sitting in a waiting room,
hoping you will finally find me.

my heart is doing push-ups,
jumping jacks inside my chest
and i wish you hadn't kissed me.

i look like
a bed full of television static
ready to carry you to sleep
on saturday night
sunday early morning.

there is crying in the next room.
like they know you wont come home,
like yeah they know it too.

we are losing
we are lost.
the world is swallowing me again.
i do not fear the depth
the dead
swallowing me.

my heart is doing push ups,
jumping jacks inside of my chest
and i wish i wasn't such a ******* mess.

we no longer achieve
intimacy by
peeling off our
skin like the band aid
that will sting as it is torn away.

intimacy is the art
of feeling like a monument torn apart,
hoping no one will tear you down
to create a better
you.

i have become depressed-
repressing all the love i have to give
if only i could shed my shadows
and remember we are only flesh.

i don’t remember
how to be intimate.

i drank up all my liquor
and drank up all my money too.
i kept pouring and drinking
trying to make time pass
trying to make myself believe
i didn’t wanna hear from you
you

you see i don’t know how it happened
how i tripped over heart first
into your lap but you got me,
and yeah you got me
yeah you probably knew that.

i can’t shake you to your core.
so let me go, yeah let me go.

when you touched me, i shattered instantly, as if there was something deep inside me that could only be released by you.

2. i can't stop thinking about how your fingers melted straight into my flesh. soul searching for a host.

3. i think i knew i loved you when the sunlight broke in through the window and illuminated every freckle, wrinkle and crease. i thought - people **** to experience sights like these.

you memorized the rhythm of my heart
and tapped it beat
for beat
at my window.

lazy summer nights
when we tasted like
sweat mixed with
honey
and our lips
were unlike split
continents
no
we were more like the sea
gently moving to
the melody of
my heart
beat for
beat.

You don't see me coming yet,
but I have already cleared a drawer for you in my heart.

Our first argument will be about how I hog all the covers in my sleep,
or maybe about how I can never shake away the feeling that I am left
with after a bad dream.

I want you to know that I am other worldly.
Which of course means that I am not from this Earth.
My mind travels to and from other universes and galaxies,
other realms of thought.
But I will try to leave a note reminding you I will return.

For future emergencies-
I keep a bottle of Zoloft in my ***** drawer
and a bottle of wine under the sink.
I am not allowed to take them together.
I hope my episodes won't make you think less of me.

I hope you won't forget the way gravity shifted when we first met.
Tape that memory to the forefront of your mind.
So when I am sobbing uncontrollably about the ending of a movie,
or the last line of a haiku
you will remember why you love me.
And I will do the same for you.

You see, I am not that great at endings.
I am not a person with promising follow through .
I get caught up in the beginning of things,
the middle of things,
the twist and turn
thrashing momentum
of things.

I just can't bare to see it all end.

So when or if it does end,
I ask that you lay me gently down and make your exit swift.
Do not linger by the door frame,
because when you tell me it's over,
that is it.

You don't see me coming yet,
but I want you to know I have had day dreams about our first kiss.
I imagine it like an orchestra inside your chest
and angels begin to sing when you part your lips.
The symphony hits its crescendo when we finally get to the kiss.

You don't see me coming yet,
but soon we will be in love.

your name rings so loudly
in my mind
that i cannot hear anything else

your touch was like a
roundhouse kick to my brain
short circuiting everything inside

your love was like a glacial age
your cold nature
****** everything in dry

your departure was like a nightmare
one where time is elapsed
and you don’t remember my name -

you don’t like me like that.

i don’t want to hear about your former heart
don’t want to memorize the lines of the faces that betrayed you
strip down from your past
down to your brittle bones
claw your resentful hands into my bare flesh
and show me why you’ve learned to flinch at love
i don’t want to hear about your boyfriends
girlfriends
don’t wanna know where it went awry
i want to be the curse that runs you dry
sink my teeth into your apathy,
fill the empty crevices in your bed with yet another allegory
eviscerate the plot for another horrorific love story
make your memories shiver
as we fill each other - we quiver
cause i don’t want to hear about
know about -
the skin or soul before me
it’ll be irrelevant
when we make the ground split with our calls
and the earth will stand still as you exhale that godly breath
don’t wanna hear about your former heart

how brave are the trees -
stripping themselves down
to let winter mangle their limbs.
hopeful for the summer time sun
to heal every bruise that wasn’t from love.
and how brave are the trees-
who will take the winded beatings
and the frosty, bitter kiss.
all to be greeted with apology flowers
whenever spring time finally hits.

now a days i take my coffee black like my father did
sometimes i add sugar,
small traces of me still pretending we are not one in the same
now a days i paint my nails black like my mother taught me
she urged me not to be afraid of the brush
"be brave in the way life calls for"
now a days i count every line on my palm like my aunt would do
told me every one was a little sin,
and that when i arrived at the gates of heaven
i would raise my hands to god and he would merely watch
now a days i wear my hair back like i did when i was a kid
i am still setting fire to ant piles
and painting my knees brown and blue with pallets from the earth

sleep walking
sleep wandering
into beds that aren’t mine
baby i think about you all the time
wont you
come back for a moment
or two or three or four
you can pin me to the mattress
you can pin me to the floor
you can
kiss me till you get sober
and leave me hickeys till i’m black and blue
you can twist and shape and mold me
you can fix me
till i fit perfectly to you
fit perfectly for you
in everything you thought you wanted
and maybe something more
i can do it i can
do it
please open the door
so i can
sleep walk
sleep wander into
your bed late at night
baby tell me yeah alright
i can do it,
let me kiss you
goodnight.

goodbye.

i have
six burns on my hands and wrists
that i am dealing with and
healing with
all on my hands and wrists.

it doesn't hurt anymore.
i used to be afraid of fire
like i was scared of thunder
kicking at my windowsill
at night when i was six.

now i can sleep with
both laying calmly at my feet
nothing scares me.

nothing hurts me like before
i am always the one asking for more
and i do it so it feels real.
i do it so i feel.

your hands they work like levees
and you stop me when you've had enough
too much
build up my walls cause you couldn't handle it all

i am
an ocean
the sea
angry, unpredictable
monsters hide under me
lurking in the darkest corners
inching towards the faintest smell of blood
crave the warmth between their teeth

but your hands
they work like levees
pushing and
pulling away
when you've had too much
one day
it will not be enough.

i will sneak in through the smallest crack
if you give me the chance
walls will crumble like babylon
and i will be relieved
i will get everything i need
not enough
not too much
i will snap your hands
overflowing,
smash your levee down

i will spend the rest of my life
burning
burned
for your touch
from your touch.

there is nothing
binding our hearts
binding our souls.

i've never been one to
give a little
get a lot.

you do not move the mountains
did not part the earth
or sea.

you leave me unravelled
you left me out of place.

i'll apologize for not being
more
delicately suited to
your needs.

do you want to see me burn?
kiss me then
leave me
burning
burned.

There was no better place
for me to stay
than at the bottom of
your “to do” list.

But the single fact that
you took the time to
pen me in through
the various instances
of your day.

Well.
That’s love enough
for me.

this is my last attempt
at trying to write about you.

i am sorry
that we couldn’t come to a consensus
on how to deal with the damage of
our hearts
or how we left the remnants of our love
scattered across the road like
a drunken car crash
in action.

i just haven’t felt the same
after the tear
of a seatbelt around my neck,
around my chest,
holding me back from the
arms of destruction-
trying to push me to safety
away from anything
that we
were trying to be.

this is the last time
i try to justify it.

i need you to start learning
how to forget me.

he probably did not die. he probably did not lose his phone and he probably did not have a legitimate reason to do it. so do yourself a favor and stop constructing his excuse when he's probably just busy trying to avoid you.

2. you are not worth less than you were before. your kiss is still as fierce, your touch is just as kind as it once was. don't let him take more than he deserves. do not let him change how you feel about your worth.

3. i wish i could tell you that this is all leading up to you finding the love of your life, but i don't want to lie. your person may be hiding in the details, and sometimes they will not want to come out.  

4. however, what is coming is bound to be better than what never showed up.

5. he probably did not die. his phone probably still works.

6. do not text him when you are sober. do not text him when you are drunk and ask why. closure is something that we make up in our minds to remind us that we are still desirable, to remind us that we are still good.

7. so this is your reminder. you are still desirable and you are still good. he stood you up, so what? don't kid yourself into thinking that this is something that can ruin you.

8. forget his kiss and stop trying to memorize the times and moments where he was probably just lying. erase his texts, erase his number. if he ever does show up- at least you know he was looking for you.

i have the nasty habit of
holding onto things and never letting go.
even when the bruises and the gashes up
and down my arms tell me so.

i am so much stronger inside of my head than out.
but the fact that you could never love me the
way i needed you to love me
****** me up more than you will ever know.

i cried so long, so hard, for so many days
that noah didn’t even have time to build a big enough ark.

you told me to break my back for you, and i did.
you watched me build it back up into a bridge
so you could walk, sprint, jump across it.
and i was just happy your skin was so close to mine

my concrete spine absorbed the angry heat
of your late night terrors and hurricane mood swings.
but all my desires were abstract concepts,
things you could not meet.

i began to crumble beneath you and begged,
”let me hold your hand and i will let you
pull the rope that’s wrapped itself so comfortably
around my neck. please. leave me hanging for the last time”

i have not let anyone break my heart like that again.
no one has gotten close enough to
take a tour inside the coffin of my heart,
to catch the scent of a love
that has yet to finish decaying.

look for me in the obituaries.
cut me out and tack me next to
the newspaper clippings of the people
that you sent missing all because of
your indifference to intimacy.

and maybe i am pathetic in the way that orpheus was
when he tried to raise eurydice from the dead.
because sometimes things are best
when we leave them alone to rest.

because sometimes when we don’t let go,
we find ourselves in hell again.
alone again.
with nothing to call our own.
again.

so you only want me when i sleep,
in my dreams
we are holding hands
and we are sewn together
like the most complex seam-
we are connected like
eve to adam's ribs.

in my dreams
we are sitting on my back porch,
smoking till our lungs turn black
drinking till the sun comes up
until you forget your way back home
so you decide to stay over
and you sleep in my bed
then you do that thing with your fingers
or that thing with your mouth,
you ask me to *** first
and we are a symphony
of moans and shouts.

in my dreams
i know your fears
wishes and dreams
like i know every word
to my favorite pop song
and you know how to judge
me by the the language of my looks.

in my dreams
when we come together
we are never apart
your name is attached to mine
like toilet paper to a shoe...
okay, maybe something a little
less clumsy
doesn't matter
because i'm still connected to you.

in my dreams
when me and your parents meet
we get along without missing a beat
and your mother pulls out,
dusts off
the photo albums and automatically
sets off your sighs
your fathers laughter reverberates through the house
and your dog won't stop licking at my shoes.

in my dreams
every kiss feels like the first
and every time our noses bump
we laugh and the wrinkles
beneath your eyes are
wide and out in the open.
i can trace them with my finger tips
without being afraid of what you
will say
without fear of you pulling away.

yes, we are in love my dreams
we are one in my dreams
we are meant to be in my dreams.

when i wake up
it is just me.

Why can't we love how we used to?
Like when we were afraid to look one another in the eyes
because it was too much like staring directly into the sun.
Why don't we move each other how we used to?
Like the dizziness we felt after ******* at sunset
and dancing with the moon.

Do you remember feeling like nothing else could compare?
Do you remember feeling like nothing else existed?

Why can't we grip the arms of time and orchestrate them to our desire?
Why can't anyone else take me higher
than you?

we are driving through lindale texas
and you are holding on to the bottle at your feet
harder
than you have ever held my hand

the times you smile at me, it does not touch your eyes
the moments your hand glides past me are merely accidents
when you look at me what do you see?

is it the
chances you saw yourself miss or
the mistakes you made unraveling in front of you again

we are cut from the same cloth,
because something in our DNA
and something in the heavens agreed
yours were the assets i would need
to survive.

we are driving through lindale texas
and you are muttering about a missed bill or two
and i’m just happy to be so close to you

i keep having dreams
where my teeth are falling
right out of my head

i keep having dreams
where i am falling
and falling right to my death

i think there is something
hidden in my mattress
something waiting by my door

i’m an outlaw to my house
i’m not welcome anymore
by the ghosts who have yet to let go

tell me more
tell me more

about the sunshine forests that you
make up in your dreams or about kissing
the curve between the shoreline and the sea

kiss me while i sleep and hold me till
i can no longer see the shadows and
souls that are sneaking in to haunt me

tell me more.

i want to know if you still call him baby
when he slithers into bed
smelling of channel no.5 and marlboro reds.
it was you that should’ve quit years ago.

sometimes you wait alone on
meatloaf wednesdays
a little longer than on spaghetti saturdays,
because meatloaf is his favorite
and maybe he will show up on time tonight.

i want to know if you still call him baby
when he whimpers her name into your pillow
when he is fast asleep.
so it can haunt you at all hours of the night
so you will hear the three syllables
in everything you do all day.

tiffany
tiffany
tiffany

the *** sings on the stove,
and all you hear is tiffany.

when he is tracing your cheeks with
his fingertips, he is carving her name
into your face.
he is thinking of her skin.

do you still call him baby
when he wont look at you when
you tell him that you miss him?
do you still call him baby
when he flinches away from your kiss?
do you still call him baby
when he ***** you to the thought
of another heartbeat?

do you still call him baby
when he aches to say
*i love you, tiffany

it becomes a glaring match
between me and the girl
on the other side of the island

we go at each other like
tiger cubs, too young to
know when we have sunk
our teeth in too deep.
no chaperone to break
us up and send us away
to our corners
we keep going until
one of us has ended up laying
cold on the floor

it has become
a staring contest
between me and the orange
bottles as its fine print shouts
at me the signs i have
to look out for
just so i can be sane

safe
alright.

oh god
i just can’t think about it anymore.
i hate the way everything tastes
the moment you walk out of my door.
nothing ever feels quite so
satisfying
quite as dreamy
as you waking up besides me
and staying.
without fear of what the morning
sun may do to you.
my love,
even if you turn to stone,
i’ll learn every prayer
to bring you back from the dead
and even if i can’t
i will love you as a ghost.
oh god
can’t you see what this doing to me?
i am no longer the person
i told myself i would be
what a crazy sort of jealousy
to envy what will never be.

you have me.

I am sorry for the way
I can’t look at you when I say
That I am sorry,
And I can’t give you anything back.

You built me up like
Your childhood diorama.
All cardboard, glitter
And clay figurines.

When you saw just how quickly
I could tear it all down,
When you realized
Just how crazy I could be -
I’m sorry.

Is it still love if my hands burn
After I touch your face?
If all I am is consumed by you,
Do you really think that’s safe?

I don't want to be
Talked down from this ledge
But I may have to,
But it may not go through
The thickest part of my head
Cause the thinnest is
In the back.

I leave it open and exposed
So when your hands
Wrap behind my neck
You can dive them in
Just to see
How little is really left of me
And how much is being replaced
By you.

You touch me and it doesn’t hurt,
I kiss your mouth
And it starts to burn-
It’s a conditioning practice.

I am ready to learn.

falling asleep to the tune
of amy singing to me
that i will wake up alone.
the trash is piling up,
and there is no more room in the sink.
i have not left this spot,
on my bed.
i cannot lift this weight over my head.

sometimes i see a flash of a memory
when i am riding on the 8PM train.
i nod off,
smile at a stranger
give up my seat and pretend like these people
need me.

i fall asleep on the couch,
there are crumbs piling up
on the floors of my house.
i can not get out.
i can’t
get
out.

art keeps getting
smaller and smaller
like we have
less and less time
to really create a body
of work strong enough
to break through the
barriers of the mind.

i can make a list of
the people i have kissed
and call it poetry for days i can
write an anthem on **** culture
with words i do not understand
or use

and judge my creativity
based on all my views.

there is never the right time
to sit down and syphon the
truth from your palpitating heart.
sometimes you find the time
in between the spaces of
the mundane and draw
or paint or
film or
write

something that will
take someone’s breathe away.

even if it is your own.

there is no easy way to
make a lasting impression
on a soul you don’t quite
know or understand.

but

if your heart feels lighter
at the end than when you began
then you are making

progress.

i want a girl that
looks like an angel and ***** like sin.
leaves like a refugee in the middle of the night
avoids the tumultuous battle between my mind
and my insides.
leaves before she’s caught up in the genocide
that is inevitably coming to both sides.

a girl that knows better
a girl that at least should.

i wish you could’ve seen it
the way we love in my dreams-
we were moving
cohesively pulsating
like the cells that course
throughout our veins
and keep us breathing
and alive.

i wish you understood that.
i wish you would have asked me
before leaving that night.

she said she’d wait forever
so she took the pills and
chased them down with fine wine,
picked up the phone
and waited till the end
for you to pick up the line.

was it selfish?
was it romantic?
was it kind?

she was a ******* come to life,
she would have been such a prize.
a hand on the curve of her hip-
you couldn’t handle it.

there were
grainy photos of you both,
some fancy motel
maybe by the name of
the shangri-la.

there are moments you can see
just how deep her sadness stretched
inside of her,
just how deep her need stretched
inside of her,
for you.

there are state of the unions
adresses and inaugural china.
long lasting feasts.
she might as well have just been
the lady hiding in the cake,
the lady singing you to sleep.
everybody’s *******
could’ve been a reality
for you.

she said she’d wait forever
and you probably passed it off as histrionics.
and maybe you couldn’t live
with that sort of guilt.

she said she’d wait forever
so she did.
she picked up the phone,
pills and fine wine.
waited for you in this world
and ready to wait until the end of time.

i am not sorry
for the times i tried to hold your hand
only to have you push me away.
i will not apologize
for the moments that i spent
sleeping on your porch
knocking at your door
begging you for something more.

i did not want to be a passing craze.
a seasonal fashion statement.
the tweed coat clinging to your chilly ribs.
i was supposed to be eternal,
i was going to serve my time.

a lifetime
of all the times i'll never say i'm sorry
for the ways i could never let you go.
for the drunken nights of
"i just had to let you know"
150 character texts,
i am not sorry i got so desperate
there at the end.

i will not apologize for your tireless hole,
or your insatiable itch.
i will not apologize for my inability
to fulfill any of it.

i feel like my heart is drooping
weary like a wilted flower
and i am thirsty for your touch.
you left me
alone and unravelled on my
twin sized mattress
all so i could remember how
bad i was at stopping myself
from falling in love.

there are borders that i draw
and fences that i build
to keep these things from
falling out,
to keep myself from falling down.

so i wont dry up and wither
when i am waiting for your touch.
when i am waiting for your love.

at a certain point
theres only so much i can say
about how the sea carries my heart gently
or about how my stars don’t always align

i could talk about
how i may not feel like the boy
who fell into the well
but more like the clock who ran outta time

i sit and think
that maybe i feel
like a signed off tele at 4am
pulling you from the arms of sleep

selfish as always
unforgiving like a natural disaster
that no one could prevent or see
i run dry and forget how to put anything
delicately.

you are leaving me
and i don't even know why.
i'm sitting on the ground, i can't
see out of my eyes
long enough to grab my keys
i am down on my knees
asking you not to leave
you are leaving me
alone at the altar
locked outside of heaven's gates
you are smoking by the window
you are leaving me
when you were my last escape.
leaving me alone with the mess
that i may or may not have made
you are leaving and my heart
is ramming itself against a
chain link fence over
and over and over again
trying to burst out
and over you
because you are leaving me
and you are leaving without saying why
i am sitting on the ground and
i can't see out of my eyes
i loved you i love you
that was my only lie

the crickets sometimes sound
like your broken record of a voice
on repeat.
scolding me for making something
out of nothing,
and still neglecting everything.

i no longer dream.

there are intervals of lost
consciousness and sometimes
i am running through the
forest trying to call for you.

it has been three years.
i stopped counting the days.
when you shook me till the poems
fell from my eyes.

i no longer cry.

there are twin
five finger scars
over our hearts
and on our wrists
from all the times
we tried to catch a grip.

life steeped our minds
up and down crevices.
dunked our heads
under freezing water
but never let us drown.

we are still connected.
a red string from your
pinky finger to mine.
the mirrored lines of the
five finger scars
over your heart
your wrists
and mine.

we no longer talk
about our sparing
matches with powdered
lines or one too many pills.
we fight our own battles now.

i still pray you don’t get killed.