The sun softly arrives on my skin.
A welcome visitor - I have
      learned gratitude.
I have learned gratitude for
                    you.

These fast months, since the
  fireworks in Manzanillo -

They rush with no hope
of slowing down.

Until the planet decided it
was time to change
our pace.
The time is now, as it
always is.
No choice but to be present,
because in a few days
it might be demons
                and flames.

The future wants you
       to worry and
have concern -

But only Mother Earth, the
Goddess of the Universe -
Only She has control.

Do you choose love, do
you choose fear?

Do you squash the bug
that flies and lands
on your knuckle?

Do you listen for sirens,
or do you listen for
                         hope?

Who do you pray to,
     and why?

Is there a difference between
feeling connected to others
         and feeling alive?

How long does the pain
of grief last?

Will you embrace what the
      Goddess has given you?

I can't believe it's only four thirty.
I feel like I've been laying here
for a long time.
         I'm miserable, sick, hurting.
It's keeping me awake

             my bed is too hard
   and my brain is too soft

                               for sleep

                           at four thirty in the afternoon

the last time we
****** was pumped
with passion and
there was an extra
flavor there that I
am now proud to
admit was
              awkward.

You pulled your laptop
into the bathroom
and the picture was
so blurry that
I couldn't really
tell if you were
biting your lip
or grinning
insanely.
I was twisting
uncomfortably
in my bed,
trying to pose in a
way that didn't
feel as though
my legs would go numb
and drop off my
hips in ****** apendages
but that also
didn't cause my stomach
rolls to emerge
in a way that
suggested I could
be popped into
an oven and devoured.

The time before that,
We were ******* each other
goodbye. There were
black make- up stains
on your dorm room
pillow and some mixed
smells of regret and
my **** juice. You tried
to reassure me that
we'd stay in touch-
that you would *******
call. I promised I
would try to feel better
about the situation

but promises are
meant to be broken,
especially if they're made
by 2 ex-lovers at
four in the morning.

The time before that
was make-up ***.
I never told you this,
but I wasn't really
sorry. I
think I needed to
get ****** by that
other guy
    to prove to myself
that I was worth
fighting for.
(Besides, it's
not like you and I
were still together.)

The time before
that was on a Tuesday
before we had to
go to class.
(I always sat in front
of you, and we
would pretend that
the other didn't exist-
but your deep voice
sweeping the floor behind me
made it very difficult)
I remember
smelling your armpit
on my hand, and
wondering why that smell
got me so excited.

The time before that,
we both begged the
other to make love
to our sweet aching
lonely bodies while,
outside, the kids were
smoking *** and laughing.
My hands burned like
hellfire against the
back of your neck
and that sweet
melancholy sensation
and questions formed
inbetween our teeth
Do you still love me
        what will this
look like, come tomorrow?

Then, the time
before that, I
was ******* you
while alone in the
privacy of my room
(you were asleep in your bed, I'm sure)

I sobbed,
tugging at my *******
in a frenzy,
plunging into myself
so hard that the
next morning, I was
sore when I sat
down. The way
I imagined you inside
of me, back home
again which I guess,
at that point, is
where I thought
you belonged.
But now, I guess
I'm not so
                sure

The time before
that, we
were falling apart
and we both
knew it. I
think I lay numb,
underneath you,
going through the motions
thinking Thank God for
muscle memory. Without
it, I would be as
much of a robot on the
outside as I
felt on the inside.
And that would be
a ****** way for you
to find out that
I didn't love you
        anymore.

The time before that,
we were drunk
you asked me
a thousand times if
I was sure I wanted
to. You even made me
promise I wouldn't regret
it in the morning.
But promises are made
to be broken, especially
if they are made by
two drunk lovers at
four in the
morning.

The time before that,
we were in your
back yard.
The moon shone down
on us through the
willow branches.
I heard crickets.
  Just the right
amount of tipsy
   both of us pulled
our pants down
past our hips,
     you placed your
hoodie under my
***. I breathed in
the smell of your neck
I pulled you so close
I could swear our bodies
were going to melt
into each other

and the time
before that

was in the morning on
a saturday
         I kissed you
softly awake, pressed up
against your hot
skin under the covers
I swore I loved you

              and the thing
I have so far failed to mention

                   is that I
                           still do

warm, indented pillow
found a few of your hairs
your head used to be  
right
here
a few hours ago,
you were right
                   here
curled up inside of me
and I didn’t know how
to feel about it
happy?
Differently pleasant
redundant movement
but I rejoiced
and I miss how you  feel

soft in some places
hard in others
the inbetween places
covered in me


       glorious
I wanted to      touch
you all over but
I don’t know you
that well


yet.

and now that you’re gone
I find myself
so very much

alone


and I am hating you
with
deep
rooted
hate
I want to love
you
but how do I do that?

you can't sleep without me
you can't breathe without me
you smoke a pack a day without me
you have nightmares without me
you can't feel anything without me
you can't eat without me
you can't focus on anything without me

But as soon as you have me

you realize

you're better off




without me.

I swear
the farther you are away from me,
the more i ache.
but this is pointless.

this chase so isn't worth my time
my heart feels full
of water, breathing
is difficult
when i think about
you
because in a month,
you'll be across the country
meeting new people
and even now
i rarely hear from you

and it makes more
sense to just

                             Let go.

I should just let go of you
find other company
instead of waiting by the
phone, crying
and writing poems.

I should let you go now

So it won't hurt as much
when you leave



But, that thought
just makes me
want to cling to you

desperately.

we've become accustomed

to a beautiful schedule

of setting alarms for

three in the morning

and we preview how

it feels to sleep together

we intertwine our naked

bodies

yours, wide and tough, smooth

mine, curved and soft, round

and you said to me

that this is your favorite place

in the world.

how sad; to think of emptiness

when you leave

each night

one of the most
beautiful people
I've met in a long
                             time

has dark red scars

up her arms and wrists
gorgeous ******
                              up past

just like mine

I want to tell her
that i understand
and first  
              and foremost
   "you're not alone"

I loved what we had
      I loved being near you

the warmth gone from your feet
       but radiating from your chest

into my cheek, pressed
                              into you


love                 love              love
                  affection
              ­                   so readily available

I never needed to seek it out
      I was never lacking it


we used to laugh

                but it's been replaced
with silence and tears

I wish I could say something
to you. I wish you would
say something back.

i just want some sort of sign from you
that you want me to still love you
in two years.

i will sit here and wait for you to come home to me,
i will.

i will wait two long ******* years.


if you wanted me to.


i swear i would;
if you could only swear that you would forgive me

for the hearts that i will have broken while you were away


and i would kiss you
                                             r
                                                    mind and your
                         heart

for being so understanding


it's funny
my hair has stopped falling out

and it feels thicker

                   i want to shave it all off in the bathroom

(with the same razor i used to drag across this wrist)
and put it in a wooden box, and send it to you.

it would just be yours to keep

(sometimes, when i am feeling insane
i take a box cutter at work
and cut my fingertips, just a little bit.
or i take the blood that naturally flows from between my legs
and smear it on the walls of the shower
and on my legs and arms

i lay down under the stream of water
in the same shower where you once made love to me
i let it cover me
and i cry
i cry out for you)




and then maybe months later, i would buy a plane ticket to see you


and it would make you so angry

(because you told me to leave you alone.
you told me to leave you alone
and then you kissed me
and you told me you loved me.
you just don't want to talk to me anymore.
i'm trying so hard to figure out where your words and your actions match up.)

you would of course just send me home
and the plane might  crash down
and in death i would be happy
that you might finally care about me



i wish i could explain to you,
how much i love you.

and how ****** up i am without you here.

and how strong i am without you.

but how weak i feel

and how i want to scream until you hear my voice, miles and miles away

and i cough up blood

and lose my voice

you hear it
and you get in your car,
and you drive into the sunset
and you see the city skyline

just a few minutes from my house

but don't even bother to call

you sit on the side of the road
staring at the cars driving by

concentrating on this decision
then, turn around and drive the two hours back home

didn't even bother to tell me you were here


and i can't even think about our home
the bed we slept in together

because in that little town
in that little room
you were the only thing that made any ******* sense,

and i am a mess now


and so is this p
o
e
m

we are kind of a new kind of brand of cool

if we had gone to the same high school
i would have had a crush on you because you play piano

and you would have had a crush on me because
you always secretly thought that weird girls are hot and interesting

but we never would have spoken
because you would have been too afraid that your friends would have disapproved

and i would have thought that you were stuck up and not worth my time


and we would have been so mean to each other




isn't it wonderful the way that life works out sometimes.
it's really hilarious, when you think about it.

I'm an easily startled creature

move slowly,
        
             but always move in
                  my direction



     When you hunt me down,
                           make it painless

strike through the heart

       I will collapse

             blood seeping into
                      the soil
             drag my body through
                               the forest

to a safer place

annie told me
              that she saw you

the day before you left.

and that she had taken a minute
to
  ask you
         if you missed
                      me.

"so, what did he say?"
i inquired,
my heart beating out of my chest


but she wouldn't tell me.

I can only guess.

and i think yes and no are both equally plausible responses

so i have no idea.
i only know that i miss you

every morning when i wake up

and you're not in that bed with me.

Remember how you used to
                  watch me?

your blue eyes,
                 staring at me while I
   was onstage
playing a song, reading a poem,
         performing a monologue

even when I wasn't onstage
    when we were alone
                in my room
and I would sing  for you
          then kiss your forehead
     and stroke your ears.

Even in class, when I would speak
      my mind
I always knew you were listening
                          intently

sometimes, from across the room,

    you would watch me
            dance.

Thank you for appreciating
        the art and
           those moments I
wanted to share with you.

      I hope you cherish
                   them

as much as I do

with my heart

        and my ukulele
on my sleeve

            i beg of you
just finish me off.

                  just fill my
lungs with black tar
                  and muck

cancer i welcome you


i'm sick of these scars
         i draw on my skin
                          with safety pins
and swords

                     i may as well
        just cut off my limbs

        hang myself from the chandelier
bury myself in the snow in my yard


                                                                    Don't come
                                                                               looking
                                                                    for me

So what am I
             expected to do
I guess for now I'll
pumpout poems
          chockfull of cliches

and other ****

      Because honestly,

                It doesn't feel
           right to do anything

                           else.


          So call me cliche

          But know that I'm-

          feeling more
                   than you

                             have ever felt.

i turn my face away
when he asked me
"is this love?"

i wanted him to
ask me
"   are you love?"

I read that art is egotistical.

and it is.
        you are saying, "hey. look at
me. I'm actually *******

                 GOOD
                                at something."

and knowing that, it's enough
    to get me through hard
                     ****.

**** writing in a journal.
   my poetry is good.

                      so here you go.

                   enjoy it while it
                                       lasts.

this one is for all of you

I can feel my body sighing and heaving
and my spine sticks through my skin
and leaves an indent

in this rock hard bed

i want to sandpaper it down until it doesn't feel like it's killing me
(i want it to just **** me)

what on earth
happened to sleeping peacefully



I guess

when you left,
you took sleeping peacefully with you




like you took everything else.

I keep picturing her
leaning into your chest
the exact same way i used to,
and breathing you in

making you happy
loving you more than
           I have been
                    lately

And I can't.
          ...****
I can't ask you
             to wait for me

But I want you to.
       I can't be with you
tonight
            tomorrow
or next week
so tell me what your plan is.
        tell me, darling
so I don't have
to ask you

Tell me your plan

Make me miserable
sit on your hard
chairs and wish
I was there to
make you feel

          or fight me

for me

fight me to be
with me
           this time
I want to lose
because I can't lose
you
        
  
  

         again

Give me ultimatums
     shake me

until I think straight

or at least slap me
so I don't have

to cry about my heart
hurting

Just get mad at
me
        Tell me you're moving
on and we both
know how scared I
will get

  

        Give me Everything
You have Ever felt

                     at once

I have wiped the slate clean
with the sleeve of my shirt

where my heart once found its home


this morning
sobbed over the frying pan

stupidly thinking
about how I used to make you breakfast




but it was being appreciated that I truly miss
and I’m not sure if that’s what it really was
if you truly appreciated me


or if you just liked the idea of having someone make you breakfast.


regardless
I miss you saying thank you

coping mechanisms

like sleeping far too much

and distracting myself with anything i can get my little hands on




I wait for you
to pick me up
into you

into your warmth and your body

and hold me like a child



because this sweater doesn't smell like you anymore
and this house seems so empty


i only have the cat
and a melting snowman to keep me company

you brought me right
   back to high school

staying up late
                smoking ***
making love until
                    we just can’t
                                   anymore
you broke down all of my walls
               you peeled my shell
               off of my skin,

leaving me flushed and pink

    You brought me right back
            to child-like wonder
  and joy

laughing so hard we roll on
                      the floor
running and screaming
               then you lift
                          me up
                way into the air

the child in me

        is the happiest


I’ve ever been
--------

        When we finally

have to wake up and be
                     adults--

When that morning comes

                             I’ll cry like a baby

i keep your
Love
in my back  pack

it rattles around
                  slaps against
my math and communication textbooks
i take it out
   ; ; ;           when i see happy
                                                   couples on campus

and i spread it on my palms
like {lotion~~~
it leaves my hands
                         glittery
            and very soft.



I keep your
LOvE
          
in my pocket.
it jingles and jangles
against my keys and my hairbinders and an old bracelet that broke [[[i'll put it back together eventually.}

I like to
I like to stick
I like to stick my fingertips
in there.
and swirl your love
between my thumb and
,forefinger,

some
sometimes i pull it out
and i
smear it on my
eyelids

           so everyone will know why my eyes shine

when will these cops learn
that their hard work means nothing
when the curtain falls upon Baltimore
and the frightening dark sky washes upon us

when will these people learn that they are powerless
that the system isn't broke,
that we're the ones that are broke.
and that means the system is working

when will these people learn
that black means criminal
and white means

God
When will these people learn that

wait, they can't learn
because the schools have been shut down
but that's okay
'cause the new light rail train was built and
it runs from north minneapolis to the prison

when will they learn that
Freddie Gray is Ferguson
and Mike Brown is Baltimore
and our sons are alive, but they're not living

when will we learn that diversity means nothing
if there is not first liberation
when voices are silenced,
they lose more than their right to speak

when will they realize that
riots
are
justified

I realized today

That I can never live

in a house
that does not contain


a bathtub.

I like showers
they're lovely little self spaces
sure,


i like the feeling of
fingerblades
little
rain droppingingingings
singing

over my skin

but there
is definitely something


about being
wet
every inch of your


body
covered in water
and all of it is touching you

at the same time


it replenishes me

dipping my hair under the sweet salty
sweat mixed liquids

it gives me life

in a way
that no one but i could ever

understand

i cried so hard i thought my heart would fall out of my chest in a bleeding beating lump of an ***** onto the ground. my tears watering the ground and my voice screeching
screaming for you to hold me and kiss me again. it feels like the pain has become me. it has transcended being just pain, it has become a tangible thing that i could extract and put into something else, but i can't find a container big enough or the right shape so it pours and pours and pours and pours out onto the floor and into this poem and into my old scars and i can't hold it and i can't hold it in
so it pours and it pours and i cry, i cry for you, and i miss your lovely touch and the kindness that you put into me and taught me how to be me. i hope you never regret anything because i'll never regret it. this poem isn't for me anymore. this poem is for you. i'm weak, remember? if this is hard for you, it's excruciating for me. repeat. i can't hold it in. you feel me. you felt who i was. you know me inside and out. you've touched and seen every corner of my body, you've explored the depths of my soul. even the parts that are harder to look at, you've seen them. you've looked at them and told me that they are beautiful. that word feels alien to me. beautiful doesn't exist anymore. beautiful was meeting your grandmother. beautiful was how i felt when we sat on that couch drinking coffee and tea and talking and watching people and listening to music that made me feel things. i wish i knew how to have everything i want. i wish i knew how to make me love you. if i knew how, this wouldn't be happening. and i could be everything for you, just like you always wanted. but i don't know how. but you should know that you taught me how to be me. you should know that i have never felt more beautiful than when i was crying on your couch the day we really said our goodbyes. and i want you to know that when you held me, i was so sorry for all of the hurt i had poured into you. i never meant to do that. i meant to just pour it out onto the floor, to keep my beating bleeding heart company.

breakfast is no longer

my favorite meal of the day.

am I numb?

am I shoving these feelings down in order to survive?

if I was truly feeling them, could I go to work, or go to school?


could I laugh and have fun with my friends?
could I think about kissing other people?



am I numb?



or maybe I’ve just been over you since the last time we saw each other

two months ago
when we wore promises like chapstick



and I wore your hands like a shirt

the white of this padded room
suffocates everything
'till it's blue.

i will drive for miles
and still feel trapped
inside.

the speed limit here is only fifty five.
and all i want to do
is crash off the road.

i pass by hotel beds
and still feel like you are dead.

i will cry.
yeah, i will cry for you
my biggest question isn't
do you love me

it's always been
will you stay?

I didn't try hard enough to
                                               love you
I couldn't give you
                                  me what we
                                                  needed, space
I held on too tightly until
                                         my hands went
    
                                                                 numb
I stopped breathing,
                                    you did it enough
                           for both of us.

But I promise, I will breathe
                                    
                                      bleed

                                    breathe
                                                  now.

But not for you

you didn't pull me close
           you only ever pulled away

I cried into your shirt one time

the first and the last, one time
the first and the last, one time.

your fault your fault your fault

and please,
                      don't ever come back

You were the ocean
infinite in some ways
mysterious and dark, impossible to reach the bottom

Powerful, pushing me and shifting my weight from standing to floating

You were the ocean
large, expansive
But so soft, a carrying presence
I knew you would never set me down

That fateful day
I was standing on the shore, picking tiny shells out of the sand to give to you, lifting my skirt so as not to get it wet

I saw the wave growing in the distance, but I didn’t think to move
As it grew closer, I did not panic.
10 feet, 20 feet, 30 feet tall. A wall
and when your freezing cold wave crashed over me
I still didn’t think to move

You could never hurt me.

Under your abyss, I could see my red hair turn to kelp
Thirty feet long, rooted in the ground

I begged you to release me, swallowing salty seawater
But you held fast

You were so beautiful
you could never do a thing like this

I always thought you would be the ocean under my boat
The wind in my sails
The love in my heart


But I drowned that day


I am still trying to determine
If I will ever grow gills

tall and soft,
strong and low
exciting and down to earth
quiet and thoughtful
kind and sweet

shy
but
so very

honest

and

smells like
lying in the grass

my first boyfriend, Jimmy Brennen
whose sweatshirt always smelled of cheetos
and Axe

or the man who sat on the waterrushed rocks
and kissed me,
tongue tasting of
lake water


or when i held a girl's (Debbie's)
breast
cupped in my hand for the first time,
pressed closely together in secret
how wonderfully soft and warm


but
this person

doesn't even have to

touch me

and i smile from

ear to ear
just looking at

his

hands
.

Now that we've decided to
Start Over

I want you to know
that i don't want
anything
to be how it was last time



please, please please

just let me breathe you in
and don't say anything
when i pull away from your kisses

don't make fun of the tears
that you (will) make fall from my cheeks

boy boy boy.
just teach me piano
and hold my hands
(yes, both of them)
please don't

hurt me
this
time


just boy
boy, good boy

try to hear me
I'm trying to explain

if I leave again
i won't expect you to chase after me

but boy,
silly boy
do it anyway.

just look in my eyes,
good boy good boy

you'll know
that the love i've got in my heart for you

never
left

It is such an enormous privilege
to have access to fresh, wholesome, healthy food
at my fingertips,
the garden I built at full bloom in
my backyard

fresh spinach basil kale lettuce onions

much like your love is on the tip of my tongue

to eat and drink in the presence of You
is to experience pure pleasure -
                                           pure joy

a bowl of fresh strawberries
         a warm omelette bursting with sweet and spicy aroma

they tell me I should open a restaurant
        they tell me that my cooking is like a meal dipped in gold

but the food never tastes as good
      without you smiling at me

without you holding me in a soft sway
                to the music
                                           in our mouths

     without you
                                     life is bland

so while the other boys
tug at my skirt,

           buy me beer,

write me songs

           I still mostly
      forget about them
                   when I go
          home at 1 in
                              morning.

But you,
            for some reason

get my hopes up
                in the worst way.


When the rain falls
                and thunder strikes
                    my tired
                               red head


I still wait for

                       the mail to come.


No letters from
                     You yet,


but I can't tear
    my eyes away
          from the mailbox


      Because,

                      I guess that
              would mean



                            giving up hope

                                                 all over again.

And
            
I don't think I
                could do it twice.


I don't think I could let you break me

                         a second time

there is nothing between my
*******,
              only skin
that's the way it will stay
until the day when i become
attached
                 then, I will keep my problems
there. I will keep hatred and
the harsh words between my
plump fleshy hills
I will keep them there until
you strip me down and
wipe them away with your
rough fingertips and lift my
body and soul up to a better
place, more accessible to you.
                the bra is burned
                my body is alive
                my body is ash
                now.

so wipe them away
              wipe away my burdens
and connect us now
         crawl inside my cocoon
       and turn me into a butterfly

one day
i felt so connected to something i thought i had lost


i lost myself
in your hair


in your lips ******* away at my skin
until it fell off in your mouth

and i crumbled

to the floor

as all my innards fell out
of my skull


that was broken
down

by your soft
words

and hips

and kiss


and i could exhale


but i chose to breathe
you in

instead

read some bukowksi today.
he's an amazing poet.
He really is.
but he's a ****** up old man.

and i'm so terrified of turning into him.

i'm so scared of turning into a mean old pervert
that never falls in love.
instead,

just ******* people until their soul falls out

because they think that they've fallen for someone talented and deep


but bukowski

his poems used to make me chuckle.


not anymore.
now,
i read his poems of
******* to little girls
and killing the people across the street
and being alone in a room full of people
and wanting to get so ****** up that the walls become the floor


and i can relate

my head is filled to the brim

with other **** i have to do

like job applications
going to class
reading ******* textbooks
dress rehearsals laundry
writing papers that won't make any sense
drinking too much coffee




when all i want to do
is lay shirtless on your floor with you

and write poetry about the palms of your hands

when i think about


love


it is a lost concept

Today

I saw a dead yellow
        finch
                    its body crushed
on the cold black pavement
    of the parking lot

I remember our
conversation from 3 days
ago.

What would you be
                      if you could be
                              anything?

(i took a few seconds
to think.

a bird.
a bird that should never be caged.
a yellow finch, tiny and powerful and proud)

"a yellow finch."





I'd like to change my answer

                    to something less
                                           sad.

One
        dead yellow finch is enough

for me to interpret it
as a message
                        that my freedom
is dead.
               Hollow bones
   so easy to break
by larger things

                               And I just
all of a sudden
became very frightened of the
things around me

            Fluorescent lights humming-wheezing
Long Hallways With No Windows-
                                                        ­      anywhere



signs that lead me to
believe that there is
                no escape, if I
                              needed to.

Maybe the finches were a
sign that I can't fly
anymore. Maybe you have
clipped my wings






****.

                         I told myself

that I wouldn't write about
you

                            today.

I sit at this desk
silent room
                    12:25 a.m
the world; asleep-ing

And I stare and pray
that you call me
I need you to call me
call me call me call
me please
           As I write the
words, I hope you hear
them, the pen scratching
like an alarm that
wakes you from your
hot sweaty slumber

It's so *******
anger-making, frustrating
that I can't call you
it's like some sick
game we play

And right now we
are both losing
I could call

But then I would win

And I can't bear

to make you the

loser


        tonight

two days ago

      I was looking at old pictures
on my camera

             and I found one of Us
you, puckered up ready to kiss

and me, smiling and happy.

I pressed delete


"This photo cannot be deleted."

My camera doesn't want to
     get rid of you.

and I'm not sure I
want to either.

I want to hear you
whistling yourself through
my door

I want to wrap my
legs in your legs

I know that I'm
only sad
        it will get better

but right now

           it feels like

this pain
                 might

    *drown me

**** up
***** up
make up
make up stories
make up lies
lie down
lie with you
you're still mad
i can tell

i have rugburn
on my face
and on my heart
from you

dragging me around
this old
               putrid
house

my best inspiration
is you
           i look into your deep eyes (always greyblueblack)
and i know

that the red carnations
you gifted to me
                 meant much more
than i love you

because you've already told me this
                                             countless times.
The red carnations

didn't mean I love you.

The red carnations

meant



You are so beautiful

                                      because
                                        I don't always

                                        hear it
                                                             enough.