I'm coming down from my high
I spent all day getting
                         drunk off of
my own loneliness

            so I sit here

sobering up   ,
                               eyes blurred
                                             vision

people pass me
            
                     I pull up my
socks
               straighten my skirt

and avert my gaze

careful not to make eye contact

lest someone see

                       how ****** up
         gorgeous I am.

Everything reminds you of him.

Everything.

I stepped out of my bed and looked at my bare feet, the nailpolish on my toes chipping away from prom night.

I get into the shower and I wash my hair, feeling its curliness and remembering his fingers running through it.

Fingers, and then

My hands, dangling them behind me in long hallway, wishing you would latch on.

My dad, and the times I biked to your house to drown out the hurtful words he screamed in my ears, and knowing that you would kiss the bruises on my thighs until they disappeared.

My ankles and the times you laughed at the patch of hair I missed while shaving

My backpack and the how you lent me three dollars and 48 cents so I could buy it.

And my cheeks, and all those ****** days when you refused to kiss them, but kissed my lips instead


Thinking about God, remembering thanking Him everyday that I’m alive every time I pass the part of 94 E where I got into my car accident, on the way home from your house on that icy night.

I can’t function in a normal way without pangs of hurt
Popping into my head like bee bee gun pellets.

I can’t think of bee bee guns without thinking about that night we hung out with your stupid friends and they shot a phone book with it, putting holes three inches deep.

I can’t think of that night without getting angry at your parents.

I can’t think of your parents without thinking about the day your mom caught me putting my shirt back on after an hour and a half of happiness
and how she sat us down

And said that you needed to think about your future, you future wife.
Was I really worth it?
Were you wasting your time?
I guess that was always up to you.

I can’t think of Christmas, because you gave me a ring that morning
And we fought a lot that winter.

I can’t think about Halloween because we used to go to Erin’s party every year
Except this year because she cancelled it
At least
I think she did.

I can’t think about valentine’s day because the day before it is our anniversary, the day you asked me to be yours
Over a text message.

And I said yes.
Over a text message.

I can’t think of easter because that was the day I kidnapped you
And took you far away from your mom
Where we couldn’t hear her tell us we were wrong about each other.

We went to a bridge
And you made me feel so beautiful even though my shoes were so ugly.

And we kissed on top of every sculpture
And we tried to kiss at the very top of the world, but it was closed
Because of easter.


And I can’t think about the day after easter
Because that was when I ended it.

And I’m not ever gonna get over this.

So
I guess
I will stop here
to avoid redundancy

i warned you.

i told you i would hurt you.

i told you i was ****** up.

i told you that my soul has always been in pieces
and that any attempt to put the shards back together
will only end in bloodied fingers.

i said, "i'm the girl that will break your heart".


and you were stupid for not believing me

but
i didn't want to believe it either.

I've been standing outside
this ****** house


for a few weeks now.
Snow is killing the flowers
that you planted for me


The weather is cold

like needles on my fingers

The frostbite will soon arrive


and maybe
when my fingers turn black

maybe when the pain
breaks me
maybe then

I will appreciate being warm.

some mornings are worse than others.

some days, i wake up
my lips chapped, nose running
my eyes bloodshot and red,
i stare at the blue paint on the walls
and the blue sheets on my bed

and it's impossible
to pick my tired head off the pillow

it's weighed down from dreams about you
and nightmares
where you're so angry that you grab me by my hair and throw me out of the moving car

my head is too heavy
to get out of bed


pull the covers over me
and cry
cry


cry


         cry until it goes away


sleeping next to you used to bring me comfort; now the blankets can't even keep me warm.

like that dream you have when you're falling
and you wake up with a jolt
                and heart is bump bumping
    loving you is exciting

like when you're eating a meal cooked by your mom
and you just can't believe how good it tastes
warm and full of comfort
loving you is home

like when your sister is in the hospital
and you can't stop wondering if she's going to be okay
loving you is devastating

like when you hear that song that brings you right back to high school
heart swells with good memories
       loving you is nostalgic

like when you spend all your money on a new camera you've been saving up for
and you're just so excited to make new moments beautiful

loving you is brand new

my mind


is ten different shades of ****** up


confusion and hurt run through my veins and take over my life


i'm not keeping track of time anymore.
I have no idea when this started or if I have the will to end it


i want to be near you
but my heart is going back to being numb

and i'm going back to being okay with it.


but i've got two weeks
to be weak


and then i can start to get over you
and i can begin again

i can begin my journey to strength
but i know
i know what that will look like

it looks like an act
i put on a show
and pretend that i'm happy
that i'm ******* **great
but i have no idea how to be happy



no idea at all




i just know how to fix these temporary problems by getting drunk off my ***
calling you

and then throwing up.

and then waking up the next morning next to you
naked

wondering what the **** happened and
why i did that

right when i thought i was strong again


i gotta be stronger

and i don't know where to start
because my soul
is missing a lot of its pieces
and it's too hard to go chasing after them

so i'll just let them go
and pretend that i'm okay


because if i pretend long enough,
maybe i'll start to believe it

You stand up there
with the most gorgeous curly black hair
you look out into the darkness,
the light shining on you
                                  and out of you.

I can hear your heart pounding from across the stage.

the world stops.
I stop.

           I can’t breathe.
I feel like I’m in a dream.
I look at you, you gorgeous thing.
                              and I feel you.
and I’m not used to feeling things.

And then,
               and then,
                               you open your mouth
                                                    to speak

you speak.
You speak with eloquence
you speak with passion.
you speak with a voice like velvet.

you speak
and the words chosen,
so carefully put together,
wrap around my throat

choke me

Slavery.
****.
******.
Prison.
*******.

All with a forked tongue.

Without thinking
I sink in my chair.

It will not be until later, when I am riding home in my car,
listening to the radio with the windows down,

that I realize
I am ashamed to be white.

I hate it.
I hate it that you woke up one morning angry
at people like me.

White, symbolically representing innocence
but you know **** well that we are ******* guilty
of everything.

White, symbolically representing purity
but our past is as ***** as the floor underneath the rug,
where we have swept all of our genocide and pain.

I hate it.
I hate them.

I can’t seem to understand how,
with this privilege that I was given at birth,
that I am more likely to be America’s standard of “successful”
although you are obviously more talented.

I can’t seem to understand how
White Middle Class
is better than
black gorgeous badass.

It’s ******* criminal.
I want to tear my hair out.
I want to **** the men
that have hurt you and your family.
I want to cry.

but instead,
(weak as I am)

I sit in my seat,
listening to your voice.
It causes me to shake.

I hate it.

The words etched into your black skin
Mean so much more to me
because they were cut and burned into you
with White words
White knives
White cigarettes
White privilege.

Like mine.

I hate it.

But, I have no way to escape it

Like you are unable to escape the pain
the pain that people like me
people with skin like mine
have inflicted upon you.

So, I sit there
like a naughty child

and I think about what I have done

I should write,
                 I keep writing about
Men
                  In my life
and they tear me apart

I want to write about
my ****
                    and my feet

and my knuckles
                                because those

          are the things that matter;;

                                                                 today.
I should write.
                    I can't write
about anything that doesn't involve body
parts or some sort of
        soul connection

and, like gonorrhea becomes
resistant to antibiotics
                                        over time


you, are
slowly


becoming resistant to
                   my *******.

Dear [god]
                       my weeks of
un ending       numb
   nothing numb

and now.          A
               kind of hurt
that
I needed so
      badly,
                  forcing me
to     feel
                  the things

I couldn't
                  when I
had someone

                     I have no one

And I wonder how that makes you feel

         But I'll probably never know,


now

my eyelashes keep sticking together
this dress is too short
this dress doesn't go with my shoes
this dress isn't comfortable enough to dance in

my hair looks stupid down.
my hair looks stupid up.
i should have just straightened it.
i should have done laundry
i should just throw away all of my clothes.
or burn them.

this tank top makes me look fat
**** it, i am fat

i should have gone on a diet.
i shouldn't have eaten that cookie dough

i should buy one of those bras that will make my ***** look smaller

i should buy sexier *******
that will make me feel better.

should i put on more make up?
now i look like a *****.

just **** it.

this is what i look like. face it.

In the beginning all I wanted to be was a dancer
An astronaut
A genius  
A teacher
After that an architect

I remember being young and wanting to be a firefighter
Then scientist
Then a football player
And after a while I wanted to be a novelist,
Later a musician
And for a bit I even thought I might want to be a senator
Then a vagabond
Wandering the ***** streets and paved highways
Then a poet
And here I am


Writing these words,
pretending that they mean something,
and of course, they don’t
and they won’t until I

become
beautiful
a model
a mom
a *******
and these words won’t mean anything until I have lived them

YOU
Know that these words don’t mean a **** thing
But I gotta write them anyway
Because otherwise my thoughts will drown in my head,
Kicking and screaming for their lives,
while this blue ocean falls and crashes over them
And I want to be a fighter pilot.
I wanted to be a star
That shines brightly in the bathed black night sky
I wanted to be a hero.
I wanted to save and be saved
From the ground that keeps falling on me
After my fair share of dreaming
I soon became an artist
I became silent for a while
Developing thoughts
And movements
Developing myself behind closed doors
Empty spaces
Screened windows
In the end all of us become what were supposed to be
Not matter how hard we try that’s the best we can do
In the end, that’s all we ask for

And in the end, I was a friend.
I was needed.
I was there.
I am here.
And I can’t keep wishing that I was something, because this is what I am.
And this is how my life is
Every day, brushing my teeth like it’s the most important task I have ever been given.
And I
AM
Nothing important.
that's alright with me

I want to be a place
   a safe haven
                    for you

a place
                 where you are warm

       I want to be a home,
          consistent
                               sturdy
                                              dependable
I want to be your bed


         you can come here

   strip off the clothes of the day

            sleep
                  as peaceful as
           a sunset lake

                   in me.

perhaps it's selfish of me
to assume that i am your
priority

sometimes
                   and time again
    
I am forgetful.

      I forget that you are
your own person.
i'm not you.

                    
And maybe I love you too much.

i miss you so much when you're gone,
so when you come back

I try to push our bodies together
and make us one

so that i can understand what it's like to be someone else
other than me.
maybe i live through you

and maybe you need space.

i find that i avoid comprehending
the complexity
of the idea of
            
                        other people.

but maybe I AM selfish

                yeah
                           i am.

I'm needy and god

i love burying my face
in the forest of soft
hair on your chest.

I'm selfish
                    ask me to
                     give you s  p  a  c  e


and i will promise to try

but the distance will
always be too far

until the day I
                sleep in your
                   skin

loneliness
grips me by the heart
and squeezes me into a pulpy mass
of tissue and blood

dripping

because you're miles and miles away from here

and i am scared
of spending time with other people
in case you finally decide to call

so i stay in,
watching the rain make the grass greener
sipping some coffee
watching some tv
writing some poetry

watching that pulpy mass grow mold
                                    it is in the corner of my house,
                              i'm trying not to look at it.

i'm trying to ignore the loneliness


but i'm hurting.
my throat is choked
and i haven't worn make-up in days (what's the point
it just comes off when i cry)

but you,
you have the sweetness
and the kindness
when you wrap yourself around me,
i feel like home

but
you're
miles

and miles

away.

I write to remember
I write to hear the rain fall over and over in my head

I am writing to hear his voice softly in my ear,
feel his lips and breath next to my face

I have written to cry
i write to make others cry
because that’s how I know they feel something

that’s how I know the difference between us
and them

I write to remember the mud under in between over up top of my toes
And the glorious cold sweetness of it
How I remember it musty and home-like

And I write to remember her eyelashes
And her crinkly smile

I always write to make myself feel something
And to make others feel me
Feel my soul
Reaching out like
I reached out to him
After I drove away

I write to remember
The people I have lost

And I hope that when people read what I have written
They will change their minds about killing themselves
Because it will remind them
That life is beautiful

Waking up next to you
                    is a reminder of what it
                                         means to live

I grow simply from the scent of your skin.

Waking up next to you
        is as if the Titanic never sank

       and all those people
           just got to where they were going.

Waking up next to you is like
               swimming naked in the ocean

your blue sheets
                  wet from perspiration
and my own milk
                                  the smell like
                                    the barn on my uncle's
                                   24 acre plot of land in Iowa.

            Waking up next to you
is a sunrise
                   with morning dew on my nose

This pen bleeds on this page.
I grow older every day I age
and I'm not sure I like the way

that he looks at me when
he's confused.
Boy, I don't have all the
answers.

I read books
      to figure out where I'm
  heading

  and i lack the capacity
to explain to you
                   where i've been.

So I'm sorry
that after we make love
in your room that smells like
a basement, I don't
want to talk about
all of my past boy-lovers
because- and this must
be hard for you to understand, --
they    *****     me.
So when we're lying naked
in your dorm room
mattress
(that we put on the floor,
somehow thinking that it
creates more space for
us), I'm sorry.
Don't feel like I don't
talk to you about anything
Maybe I can't tell you
because I have spent my
whole life trying to erase
it from my head

I tried to lose it
but i'm just
losing you.

I could tell you in a
poem. But i just
can't write anymore
because this ink
looks like black blood
and i'm so sick
of cutting myself open
for other people.
This page is bleeding
because
     ****.
I need to bleed
                      to feel.

        I remember when I was 14
and i watched the bathtub
water turn red- i would
smile at the crimson flowing
like some sort of sign from
God that I was alive
and now, I love it when
I get bruises.
or when I cry
because it means that I'm alive
and it's not socially acceptable
to remind myself anymore.
I have scars
      so i smoke cigars
  and i get high when
I inhale. and you're not
supposed to inhale. But i
always do because i
don't just want to taste
smoke in my mouth.
I want to float
    away.
I want to feel
    again.
I want to lay on
a cold bathroom floor
and feel safe and
   protected by the locked
      door
while I watch a small
red puddle
form
on the tiles.

These poems are all about girls like me
the type of girl
that makes you think you're the one, the absolute one
covering your weathered face with kisses
telling you
-you can stay as long as you like.

girls like me


we ******* over
in the end.

we begin by letting you fall for us
when we're not interested.

then we become a little bit attached
to you
enough that we feel guilty
when we leave you

and we're weak
without you
so we beg for forgiveness

and we keep you hanging around

until we find someone
good enough
to replace you.


if that isn't the most ****** up thing i've ever heard

your summers
of happiness and ***

remind me of mine.

long drives with boys i loved
cigarettes and sweat
and ***
literally every day, sometimes for hours.
Usually for hours.
Sometimes four hours.



;reminds me of my boy with greyblueblack eyes
and my boy with the hairy toes (two years of lovelovelove
and the boy that played me guitar, always letting me sing
to him

and
the boy that ****** me
and ****** me over
and kissed me
to keep from freezing
inside his cold life



and then of course
there's the boy



with those beautiful hands

that haunt me
now


trying to fall asleep
i imagine his arms around me

his hands
his glorious slender hands
in my hair
that he thinks is so pretty

(breathing into my neck)

that thought is enough to get me to sleep every night
now that sleeping has become difficult to do.


i love your little stories
of her back
-skin dancing in the sun
of windows
softly
creeping through the curtains




Man, the way you must have loved her

your heartache
your heartbreak
your -getting ****** over by some girl that thought she loved you
is so familiar
it's dangerous.




your stories
of hurting people
and calling the cops
and punching idiots waving their ***** around
make me scared of you
in the best way.


you get me

because we feel the world
through the same
(sc)a/rr\e/d skin.

so when the broken glass
gets too much to handle

and the fluorescent lights
are buzzing like ******* bees
crawling all over me
keeping me from sleep


i'll take your advice
and punch holes in the walls

of this ******* life

*I won't take it anymore.

There’s this beautiful girl at my school
And she smokes a pack a week

And she’s pregnant


She’s got beautiful eyes and that’s all I can see
Her baby will have beautiful eyes too.

And she moans out loud in the lunchroom, “man, I’m going to be so fat in a few months.”


And I swear to god that whenever I see her,
I want to lift up her shirt
and press my cheek against the life beating inside her
and hope that it soaks into my pores
So I can feel something as real as that.

But when I have a baby girl someday
I will love her
Like I love the taste of a grapefruit on hot summer days
I will love her like every ****** I have ever had
I will love her like every prayer I have ever whispered in my car
I will love her like how I miss my dad sometimes

And my baby girl will know that I love her because when I put her on one of those horses on the carousel, I will kiss her hand every time she comes back around to me
and I’ll miss her every second she’s away

And I’m going to teach her so much more than her daddy ever could.



My baby girl’s gonna learn that everybody’s going to die someday
So she should try to meet everyone as soon as possible.

And I’m gonna make sure she never has *** with a person she doesn’t love
But I’m gonna make sure she falls in love every day.


I’ll teach my baby girl to love the way I’ll love her
and then

I’ll love her more every day
until I die or
until I forget whose hands are attached to my wrists.
But I'm sure I’ll remember
when she holds them.

it's so stupid/dumb/ridiculous
that i persist
in the creation of

**** songs like this
but here i go again.

i have to scream and cry
because emotions
let me know i'm alive

but tell me boy
when i smile
do you know it's because

i'm thinking of times

when i was with you, boy

but now


things are different
things haven't been making sense
things aren't right
since you left

The perfect first kiss
we were nervous
         and I felt beautiful
and you had this look in your eyes
I had never seen in anyone
                                          else's.
You felt so warm, close to me
           And I felt beautiful

It was years of holding your hands
the air grew chilled
       around us.

The sky was a painting
               worth more than
a hundred diamond rings

And our hands were touching
            did you touch my face first?
Or did I touch your face?
            
we were both so nervous
drums beating, our breathing
was
soft and warm
                           The night wrapped
                              around us

You knew
                  everything about me
                                                 at that
    
                                                          moment

i want to call you

you're less than a minute away.

i want to tell you that i'm sorry that i can't hold it together

i cry whenever i think of you at all.

i want to cut myself

it's a stupid temporary solution

i want you to hold me

tell me that i'm not a ****** up person

i want you to tell me that everyone feels this way sometimes

come on baby, lie to me


don't tell me that "now's not a good time to talk"

don't tell me that i'll get through this

don't look me in the eyes

because i can't handle you
and all of your strength

when i am weak and on my knees

i don't know if I'm lonely
                     or hungry


either way, I have a hole in
my stomach


                  i want to grieve
I want to weep giant giraffe
     tears onto your toes
and then kiss them off.


He tried to shoot me through my shoulder
and missed


                                                             he hit me here instead.



can you see where I got blood on my
                                                scarf

If I could have one
wish and make it
   come true,

I'd make myself be
in love with you.

it would be so easy.
I wouldn't have to lie to
     you.
              I could hold you
and give you comfort

I wouldn't miss your
body all the time.

But I don't have any wishes.

I only know how to work hard


at being strong,

                           and work on
learning and loving myself.

communication is always a plus.

late at night when i finally tell you
that i don't know you.

and i want to.

and you respond in the perfect way;
you just talk to me





about the **** that matters, for once

not about our plans for the day or the monotonous "i miss you, do youmissme?"

but about the inside of your soul

you take it out of your bellybutton
turn it inside out
and show me,
everything

i needed this


to make sense of myself.

What do you want me to do?

**** all your ******* memories
   burn all these ******* poems


I'm walking on eggshells
       over here
terrified that one miss-step
will send us both
over the edge of that
            cliff

So what do you want me to tell you?

That I abused you
        that I ****** you
that I ruined you

You want me to lie to you
baby, I will.

And I'll tell you that
everything meant nothing

and that I
     just love playing sick
                                games.

I'm sure it's easier to
       believe that

                         than the truth


because the truth is

                                                        I loved you

                                                    to the best of my
          
                                                             ability.



it just wasn't enough

                             for either of us

it would be
   absolutely
             fantastic
if
       in five years

I could **** someone else

the pain subsiding
        into
         a dull ache
in the back of my
        throat
                 with a kick

the feeling
the rush
of your hot red blood
moving swiftly
pounding
inside of me

is not what i'm used to.

I'm not used to fingernails scratching
teeth biting flesh
deep hard fast pounding
pounding
pounding
on
in my head



I'm used to the sweet slowness
of *******
     with soft caresses
      and kissing
of eyelids

I'm sorry
I couldn't tell you
when you were still
in my bed

I’m so troubled

The way he kisses me is the same way you used to
And I don’t know

If I like it or not.

i had to shove my fat cat into a tiny kennel that was too small for her fat ***.
we took her to the vet.
she ****** in the kennel.
it wasn't her fault.

the visit cost 165 dollars, out of pocket.
so basically, we paid them to clean the **** out of the kennel.
and to clean the ******* of her tail.
and to tell us that she's fat.
(i already knew this.)


when we got home, i opened the door of the tiny kennel.
she stalked out,
looked around as if she didn't know where she was.
she squished her fat ***
BACK into the kennel
and peed.
and stood in there.

just looking at me.
this scares me,
does she need to go back to the vet?

I'm so worried that I'll
never find anyone
that is as good to me
as you    were.
I'm worried that all of
my future relationships will
all be for the wrong reasons.

I'm worried that I made
up all these things
that were wrong with
our relationship.

I'm worried that you were
perfect for me
           and I ****** everything up

Like I always do

                         with everything.

remember when we first met

how I was so ****** up
and the ways I chose to deal with things

like a child, angry and out of control
rash decisions
drinking
***
cutting

and over these past three years

you turned me inside out
my skin is on the inside
and my heart is on my sleeve

This is a feeling that
resonates within me

and makes me quiet.
I feel empty
and wanting.

so empty, yet so full
of wanting more.

I know how my life
looks, I know how
I want it to look

and I want you in it.

Maybe I'm just *******
scared of transition

Maybe I've realized
that i'm terrified of
being alone.

So I use people

like teddy bears. I
hold them close,
sleep with them every
night
         sigh into their
soft       fur

               and kiss their paws

But eventually, I throw my bear
                                           to the
garbage.

And I try to sleep
without it, but
the nights are cold
and scary
So I ask Teddy
to come back.
But Teddy's not the
same.

                 Teddy doesn't soothe.


So I get a new bear

never happy


It's this feeling

that resonates in me

that I'll always be here,

with or without a

******* teddy bear

and I should

teach    myself to

feel good,

even when I sleep
                     alone.



                   Is that it?
                          Am I just
                           scared of
                        alone-ness?

scared of the night?


But I feel it in my skin,
in the follicles of my hair,
and behind my teary
           wet eyes

That

          Oneday

I will walk down the
street at night.

Daring someone to
cross my path.

Wearing high heel shoes,


just waiting for someone

                            to fall in love
with my glowing smile

and my radiant hair,

just so I can say,

    "no thank you."

I used to run my fingers through the hair on your head
And it made me so happy
Because I think maybe I helped it grow

Maybe it was my love injected into your forehead
everytime I kissed you that made it so dark and thick

or maybe I was watering the roots of your hair with my tears and sweat and saliva when we made love

or everytime you kissed my pantylips
my lemon-and-dirt smell made it a whole inch longer

and when we held hands
it grew down to your knees

which is just where I like it.
So I can run up behind you and pull on it and spin you around to face me



But we’d cut it all off with a beautiful pair of scissors
So I could see your eyes

i'm gonna my life in happiness
i'll live with no regrets
and when they put me in the ground


let me be remembered as the one that never
fell in with the crowd.

let my friends say to my sister at my funeral

she was always a little different
but in a good way

dear lord
if i ever spray tan my ******,
let you strike me down with lightning

Don’t ever let me go on a diet
for anyone else but me


and if there is ever a moment
when you see me from your pillows
and i am allowing myself
to hurt others,
hurt me.

hurt me until i suffer.
hurt me so i feel the pain that i have spread
and i will learn.

and if there is a day
when i don't enjoy learning
or a day that i don't make someone smile
or a day that i don't ask a question
do not be afraid to take me off this earth.

because on that day
i will be worth
nothing

i used you to numb the pain of reality
to cushion the blow of the outside world
to muffle the loud sounds of gunshots outside the window


and now i'm sober

cold

scared as ****

**hand shaking for the bottle

these three words have
been repeated to human being
to human being in a billion and fifty
different languages and dialects but
never
never
never have they meant
what you make happen inside
of me. It radiates from
your smile

and kicks me in the chest.
your palms sweat with the
scent of it
your tears
                  taste like love



i can taste the love in your
tears.

it makes me feel like
a new person. newly
whole.

And when the sweating, crying, smiling
has ended,

you'll still be right here.

I trust you now. I was
so scared
of moving at the speed of
light

but the      moon
                  sun
                  stars
                               have never been
                               as bright as I
                               am
                                       when I'm  
                                       with you.

she gave me an empty book
in which to write poetry.

she told me she made it.

she told me she didn't use line paper because
lines only limit us.

without lines on the pages,
my poems would surely flow more freely

in all directions.


i couldn't tell her
that when my world is spinning out of control (which is often)


that lines are the only thing that can give me direction

yesterday i took a long drive
and i drove
looking for a place

that i had never been.

because all of my favorite places are now tainted,
tainted.

with memories.

i needed a new place
where i could create new memories
of peacefulness
and content happy feelings.


because the beach down the road from my house reminds me of the day i went skinny dipping
and the coffee shop down the street reminds me of just a few days ago
where i called you on the phone,
and tears made my tea salty.

and i didn't want to go to a store or something
because you can't sit peacefully and relax in a store.

it took a while


but i followed my heart.
i took a left on rice street.
i passed the beach.

drove all the way into St. Paul

I passed the Cathedral.
i thought about going in, but my soul just wasn't feeling it.
So i kept driving.

and all of a sudden, i decided to pull over

and i sat in my car.
and i cried
and i wrote you a sad song (that you will probably never hear)

and then i got out.

embracing the cold.
and i walked into a place

that didn't remind me of anyone.

i sat there
and i drew on my arms.
and i wrote poetry.
and when it was closing time, i helped a girl there move the furniture so she could vacuum.

and i felt alive.
creating a new memory

that hasn't been and will never be

tainted

black
navy blue with white laces
scuffed
ripped
            i have so many pairs of shoes
they have seen my pain
sipped my sweat
protecting my sweet feet
my hairy toes with thick toenails

those shoes
          little boats
i sail in them
                 letting them take me where
they think
     i should go.




why are they always right?

I gotta tell you
it ******* ***** to
be stuck in this
******* pattern
year after year,
relationship after
meaningless relationship

let me tell you
how much i hate
that i have this
ability
to convince myself
that i'm in love,
when really,
i'm just
not lonely
for once.

But i get somewhat attached

to you
              to your skin
to your smile
             to the sound of your laugh

to that magical scent
that makes me feel like home

and let me tell you
(pardon me while i contradict myself,
i am drunk after all)
how it is excruciatingly
painful
that i love you.

and i have no idea
how that ******* happened

because just a few
months ago
i was at a place
in life where if you
told me you didn't want to speak
to me anymore,

i would have been just fine.

But as the circumstances
stand( while i fall down)

My heart
                 is sliding
down a wall,
leaving a trail of
blood.

And i want
so badly
to slide a blade across this pathetic white little wrist

but i can't
because people would freak out.
so instead

i drink as much as i can
to stop feeling things

and i sob quietly
so as not
to disturb
the sleeping people

tell me about your girl

tell me about how her hair
was red as a sunset
blazing through a meadow for miles



tell me how her lips were stained with blood
from the fist of her pa'


tell me how you kissed her deep
as she collapsed into your
heart



tell me how she cried
into the nape of your sweet sweet soft neck


and how you patted her on the back
wishing she would shut the **** up

I sometimes forget what you look like


                      yes
your ****** expressions
                             and your teeth

And I feel so wrong

You are the one I shouldn't be able to
forget
                       you should be scarred into my mind by now,
                                                                        lover.

A deep crimson red, like
the deepest part of me you've
                                      seen

Put that down, before you hurt
                                           yourself.

You once said to
me      (in more or
                     less words)

that you were happy to share
the moon
         with someone you
care about.


I look at it now
and I talk to the man
up there
               I say
                       I love you

and ask him to pass along
the message.

dreams of dying

then what happens?

mine will go to the darkness, like hers did
and she will weep giant waterdropletsonmyface,
and i will drink them until my stomach is full of sadness

she will always be reaching for that small moment of peace

and i will always be searching for someone to love me

she has no heart, no *******,
no legs no belly no heat

now you are here

your clothes are vacant
i want to wear them for you
let's be together

climb into each other's shirts and skirts and socks until
we can't move anymore

and we'll lay over each other
resting and reading sleeping warmly
and you will never be tristful, here with me

and your lips will taste like sweet coffee
all the time

how nectarous