I worry about you,
boo.

I worry that you
are alone
                  in a dark
room
like a prison cell
rats running over the floor
disease
grits for every meal

dirt in every crevice
cold toes.


                        I worry about


you.

I worry that you
are alone

with no one beside you
to comfort you.

I want to pick up
the phone and call

             I worry too much


or perhaps never enough

My hands are grody
from touching my
aching face

there is dirt
underneath my fingernails

from digging my
own grave




this hole isn't

deep enough yet.







keep digging

When the equinox is
approaching
I will know it
because the tough
leather shell around my heart
shrinks and tightens

And I look at the
leaves on the ground
and think, "how ugly"

And the brown dry cracked
dirt from where too many
feet have kicked up
the green that
was once.

I see only brown.
even the yellow is
brown

Winter is not yet here
and already
I am dreading the spring

my heart will stop beating





i can't
i can't do this


i've been trying
but the grief is too hard


when the rain hits the pavement
and stings my eyes

i think only of how

you always wanted to hold me in a thunderstorm

anger
shaking my whole body


you're mine.

you could never be anyone else;s

it's too soon it's too soon it's too soon it's too soon


please
just a little longer




you could never be trash

you're my
you're my
you're my




light
at the end of this tunnel



the light
at the bottom of this pit

this grave

that i am digging for myself




i want you here
more than anything

don't give up on me don't give up on me don't give up on me




i weep daily

in public places

just for you

I miss the freckles on
your shoulders

I miss the way your lids
close over your greyblueblack
eyes and they trace the slits that your
soft lids have made

I miss the way
your face feels in
my palms

I miss my lips in
your palms, darling

I miss being able
to ask you for help
about anything

I miss how you
would never    could never
say no.
     I miss the smile
you'd give me
                      when I offer you chocolate,
                                              or a kiss.


I miss the way you
would laugh with
me about the way
silly words tasted in our
mouths

          I miss your
stinky armpits,
                             I really do.

I miss pulling you close
head on my arms
and face in your neck
and happiness and
a special comfort that
I can't get from anyone
else.

I miss your deep voice,
even on the other end of a phone.

          I miss the way
you would lift me up
and we would dance
on my bedroom floor
like the world
was watching
But for me, it
was just an excuse
to breathe in the scent
of your hair

I miss how I used
to be happy all the
time.

I miss the long car rides
the only car that has
ever felt like a new kind
of home to me

I            miss
the apartment that
I never got to see,
Why not?

I miss the taste of
sweat on your upper lip

I miss your hot skin
burning through mine, penetrating
enough to make me
sweat underneath my *******

I miss wiping the
the burdens
the hurting
                     from your
brow.

I miss crying
into someone's (your)
shirt
          and sniffling
and wow, you smell like love,


love




         I miss the tiny
hairs on the back of
your calves

         I miss sending you
letters, I still write them.
The last one was 8
pages of heartbreak
and you-would-be-so-proud-of me's
but I could never send
it.

        Not Now.
I miss,
             wow
I just,
             I just miss



you.

I miss
             you



                                I miss you
I miss you I miss you
I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you endlessly I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you



Why didn't you fight for me?


I miss you I miss you I miss you
*I miss you.

It's this emptiness
the feeling of being
punched in the stomach

Not once
                  but every every every every every every every
moment

the skin on my eyelids is
raw

        I want to just
close them  

              and rest

from the pain
       and the (dull screaming)
ness of my headaches
and my
******* sinus infections

and my sore heels
from stepping on the
glass shards

from the window I had to break.

I wish I could blame
you

but the truth is

I slit my own wrists

this time

               and I'm
dealing with this pain
          alone

              I'm feeling it
until this pit

either shrinks
              or disappears

or until you come back



it's all my fault.