the geese are leaving minnesota

they are gathering food for their long flight across the country
and i wonder where they will go

i hope, that

they might make it to you
down south
or wherever you are

and maybe you will meet the geese
that i pass on my way to work

the geese that i give a part of my bagel to
in the mornings where the ground is too hot for them to find food


maybe you will give them
some friendly love

like i always try to


maybe you will wave hello to them
if you see them

when they migrate to where you are
the way i wish i could have
six months ago

When you achieve perfection
                      in your own
sense of self

           you will never again
   need      to
                         seek it out


in other people.

Every gorgeous living day
I feel alive
          When I wake up.
I look around when I walk
I don't stare at my shoes.
There are pigeons that coo
           from the roof of the
library,        purring happily
                            from the height
I look up at them with
                       a smile on my face
fully knowing
         knowing fully
                           that people
are "staring" at me
         because I'm smiling
into the sky with my
head thrown back.

And I pass lovely people
who are fully unaware

that they are unique.
that they are truly worth
     something.

But other days, I pass 20
different people
        and I feel as though
I have just passed

             the same person
                      20 times.

This town is a bubble.
         I hate that I'm
the only ******* person
that loves those pigeons.

I need someone
         anyone

to show me that they're alive

:that they're not too
           BUSY

to appreciate the fact that
the air they're breathing
        is clear like a wine class
                      and that the sky is a gorgeous
metallic shiny brand new blue

I need someone who
         will

prove it to me.

                  Prove to me that they deserve to
walk around
on this ground.

While they
don't write poetry
don't feel much
don't contribute

                               because they're
                                    too BUSY.

**** BUSY people.

I want to meet people

that appreciate that
they're alive.
I want to meet people

        that scream
                 laugh
                           cry
                      love

People who pick up trash on the street

People who spend time reading books to kids

People who sew their own clothes

People who clap at the end of a great movie and stay until all the credits have rolled

People who will look up
                   when they hear
                           the library pigeons.

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.

when I get the opportunity
   I dig you out of the ground
like gold
      I dig my fingers into
your crevices, spreading your
   skin across my palms

Your fingertips -
                                     as if covered in black ink
                                                                          or mud -
   have left markings on my hips

                     where you pushed your
                                      hands into me,

your lips left love on my skin


and the places you would plunge into me

             and I would dive into you, too

is a place
       that aches as I write this

is a place of forgiveness
                                        of giving

and your fingertips pressed into my
                   skin
                            and weaved through
                                      my hair

my scalp only gave
                                      and we pulled
                            each other and pushed
                             even harder until
I rose to the top -
                  then you.

naked after a shower


i sit, my knee
pulled my chest


my chin resting there

then, my lips kiss the little mountain peak i have created

brushing against
my soft skin

i reach up, feel the back of my neck

fragile in my fingertips

                      with my other hand
                 i touch the dark red curls

in between my warm legs, covered in soft blonde hair


i am so in love with my body

and my own yogurt
                                scent

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.

I'm glad you're moving on
I hope you find someone perfect for you,
more perfect than I could have ever been
Maybe you'll marry her
and you'll have beautiful little
baby girls together and you'll
pick them up and carry
them on your shoulders to the
park and kiss their heads
and tuck them in and
kiss your wife good night
and fall asleep

      and you won't think of me
anymore.

my bed has become
a nest of nightmares and tears.
What once brought me
peace is now a
dreaded place
I receive no rest.
no relaxation, no rejuvenation

I lay awake, eyes open
staring at the ceiling

whenever they close, I
can only see your face in
full accurate detail.
I know it by heart

my heart aches
our last conversation
runs through my head
on repeat. every word.
the sound of your voice in my mind
makes me cry

I tried to sleep naked
but it only made my
skin long for your
touch. Sometimes

I      swear

        I can feel your
beautiful hands on
                my waist

    until
               I open my eyes
  again
            and reality kicks in


you are gone.
       lost; not wanting to be found.

when I think about even the simplest things

like placing my palm on your warm cheek
or running my fingers through your soft hair

I feel like I’m dying

I feel like I have cancer, it’s infecting my heart and rapidly multiplying

and like a person who knows that they’re dying

all I can do is watch tv

and stare at my phone

and cry in the ******* shower
and cry in the bathroom at work
and cry on the sofa at 1 in the morning

but I can’t eat
and I can’t sleep


because you made those things so much more than simple human needs
you took these mundane every day activities like shoveling food into our mouths

and you made them into these magical moments

where I was truly, and completely

content

I wrote poem after poem after poem for you

when all was said and done
you had a stack of my words and carefully thought out phrases to your name

words that did nothing but express
how much I loved being near you

i loved your musky scent and
the way your hands felt wrapped around my neck

I loved that you never turned me down,
like i was a dog forever begging for your attention

i was the puppy

and you were the disaster

we were both engraved in each others' lives,
living as though tomorrow would never exist

and when tomorrow finally showed its ugly head,
we told it to go **** itself

and we would stay in bed all day
then drive to the coffee shop
and smoke cigars while the maple leaves fell to the ground.


I remember how,
I remember your skin

your skin is my fondest memory
i used to live there,
in your wondrous skin


the tips of your fingers
were soft and forgiving

while the skin on your back was
indescribable

i would trace my name onto your hips with my tongue

and i would run my fingers over your flesh

the softness of it would make a person believe in heaven,
although we would tell heaven to go **** itself.

when you got excited

you would press against me
something long and hard
resting against my belly button

because you were so tall.



and there were moments
when we would be in the very thick of it,
me on top of you
moaning into your ear,
not caring that the sheets were ***** or that you had a paper to write

we would plunge into each other
and i would pull out,

mid-gasp

to look into your gorgeous eyes

and lie to you

Listening to you breathe, your head tilted back
The pillow a blueish tint in the light from the window
It is unclear if the light comes from the moon or from some street light
But it does not matter
The light is blue
And it shines onto the skin of your face, with little stubbles on your chin and the space on your cheeks near your ears

You on your back, my hand draped over your chest
You shift to face me, you slide your leg over mine, and our toes search for empty spaces in the other, then lock into the gap. I lock myself to you.

You are gone.
In a place of nothing, darkness, and light
You do not understand what is happening as I kiss you awake
Your eyebrow my target, I feel the tiny hairs against my lip as your lids flutter open
Like wings on the back of a bird that never lands

You stare at me in awe
Love in your eyes

Outside the cars go by on the highway
Wasting gas
They should turn around, go home to the ones they love.
Loudly they vvvvmmmm past us,
While we,
Sweet and slow moving like molasses
Move our hands up each other from legs to hips to mouth

Then down, and feel for textures
You call me smooth, my skin like a cool stone in a river

You are like a grass covered hill,
Mossy and full of earth

We move together, the light blue from the window shifting from you to me,
And then back to you
The light on your shoulders to the light on my hips

Everything is blue
The love
Your shy smile
My flowing hair
everything is blue.

even
My hands
Moving across you

Like a little sailboat
In the middle of the ocean

The way I felt when you came up to me
on the second day of school,
and I thought you were being nice,
but you only did it because the teacher told you to.

The way the sound of your laugh is deep and heartwarming
and how I hear it in my head when I take the dew covered back roads home
on my bicycle before 8 p.m.
because my mom will yell at me if I get home at 9,
and when she does yell
I just think of your laugh
and your face
and it’s better.

The way your cat tries to chase the light
reflected off of the face of your broken watch
and how you always put it on the ceiling
and drive him crazy.

The way I took a shower that night with all of my clothes on
and I couldn’t explain why

The way the water reaches out from under the wheels of your car
while the rain beats down on the hood, and I smell the dead worms from my window, wondering where you are going

The way I can’t sleep without noise in the background
because I used to live in the city
and you would always turn on a whirring whispering fan
so I could fall into dreaming with you next to me,
smelling the mildew and flour in the air
my mother calling and calling
but we would never answer the phone
because the ringing just made it easier to sleep

The way your hands knew exactly what to do
in the night
parting lips and hips and breath
when my mother went to her book club
and I snuck you through the back door
praying my neighbors wouldn’t tell

The way you looked at that building
in the middle of the dark damp city
and brick didn’t come to your mind.
But instead, you saw the single soul that designed that structure
that you could live in one day,
if the world blew up.

The way the sky is the ocean when I’m with you.
The way the ocean is the ground when I’m with you.
The way the ground is the sky when I’m with you.

The way we both knew that I wouldn’t know what to do here if you ever left,
and now I’m lost

The way I feel while I send you this letter.
The way the envelope tastes bittersweet
And the way I know you will never get it
because you live somewhere else now,
in a sad place where you can’t hear me anymore,
although I sing as loud as I can.

The way I think about you
while standing up on the roof of my house
shivering in the sleet
on a sad Thursday evening
my mother looking for me all over the house

The way you feel when you hear Bob Dylan,
and I just don’t get it.

The way I feel when I hear a baby crying,
and you just don’t get it.

The way sometimes I think maybe we’re not supposed to “get it”
but *******, I want to try like hell anyway.
And we can both understand that.

you made love to me under the moon

the wisps of your hair sticking
to your forehead

and our muffled lovemoans
just barely reaching past our lips

the grass was so soft.


you made love to my body under the moon

the wooden chimes on your porch clocking against each other,
a crisp hollow sound


you were just a little bit tipsy
from 6 beers
and buzzed from the nicotine
our breath

matching and climbing

our tongues
tasted like smoke

i love this memory

because it was the most spontaneous,
wonderful thing i could have ever dreamed up.

nervous, yet the world was so calm around us

while the owls in the trees
and the moon

watched,

you made love to me
that summer night

in your backyard

don't have *** with somebody you're not in a relationship with,
they all say.


            it gets messy.

hearts get torn apart
                                 when the pumping
leads to a sense of attachment
          and a feeling
                      of being used.

Don't have *** unless you're in love.

I thought it
didn't apply to me.

because i'm supposed to be
the heart-breaker

        Never let anyone too close.

or they'll run away when
they figure out who
I really am

but the ***
  

when the skin
is wet with perspiration
                 and hair is in your
mouth, licking moist
thighs, so excited

and afterward
you want to tell them
                                             your secrets.


but your secrets hold so much power



and they run away
faster than you can say

                                  

                              thanks for the ****

when you held me last
there was a grey tension

the two of us, held in suspension
the air thick with questions

a grey tension, a fog placing the slightest pressure on my lungs
wondering when the air will clear

wondering if you will be here
when you are gone


those questions- small bricks
my clothes catch on them, they come out of nowhere
seemingly to fall from the buildings we have constructed together

a brick falls here
and there

empty spaces next to the window
missing


they have fallen on me,
luckily missing my head


these questions
were a grey fog
keeping my lungs from their full potential

these questions
were heavy bricks from our house
falling on top of me


and today
i could breathe
when i remembered that the fog is temporary

my bruises disappeared
when i remembered
that our house can always be repaired


so if you will take my hand

let's move to the lands where the air is crisp and clean
and rebuild our house
together

Well we woke up in this relationship
And now i find that I'm talking ****
About myself and the things i feel
Because i don't know what's right or what's real
I only run sprints, not marathons
And you keep saying, "girl, what are you ON"
Because i never get tired of hanging with you
But I'm always so scared that you'll see that I'm too
Too crazy too weird too much to handle
One bad day and I'm off the handle
But hey i dont care if you believe me or not
Cuz I think you're cute and i like you a lot.

sometimes i wish you did out of this world
nice things for me. Like send me flowers.
Surprise me by calling me on the phone, because
you never do. Write me letters about
your day. Make the effort to come see
me on a Thursday.
               When you think I look especially
beautiful, don't say it. Instead, grab me
by the waist and slow dance with me.
       Read me poems just because.
Touch my hair. Rub my neck or back.
When you listen to a song that reminds you
of me, write down the title so
you can play it for me when we
see each other. Make things for me,
like ceramics or pictures.
                              kiss my nose, forehead,
                                                and cheeks.
kiss me everywhere. Kiss every single one
of my fingers.

                                        I wish i never had to
                                        ask you to do these things
                                        for me

always be surprised
be cautious of words
and how you affect others
love him
cry when you are sad
never lose your sense of faith
love and forgive when you are wronged
touch baby animals and live your life
remember that you were small once
be grateful for your life and the opportunities given to you
go to school
don’t lie
be mindful of yourself
stay healthy and exercise to make yourself happy, not for others
cry when you are angry
compliment strangers
give small gifts to those who deserve them for no other reason but that.
swearing is a waste of a language
spend your time sleeping and you will wake up full of dreams
belch and ****, quietly.
apologize to enemies, move on.
drink tea
enjoy simple pleasures
don’t watch tv or read the newspaper
except the Sunday funnies.
smile at people when you pass them in hallways, make firm eye contact
have children and love them for who they are, no matter what
make a difference in the lives of people around you
giving is a bigger joy than receiving
flowers need appreciation as much, if not more than people
write poetry and live your life
don’t let people insult you.
stay safe
drink merlot because it tastes good, not to get drunk
offer help when someone looks as if they need it
don’t pass up chances to meet new people

*cry when your heart hurts from being too full of love

listen up, *******.

The last time I saw you,
a year ago,
I was weak.

The sight of you
made me sick to my stomach.

Terrified of who you made me,
into some pathetic girl
that needed someone

that needed to

be loved by someone
anyone.

Terrified that I would become who you wanted me to be:

The girl that would rather let someone tear her soul apart
than be alone




But I am not that girl.

**** no,

I'm not.

Things have changed since you saw me last, *******.

I am too gorgeous
and too strong
too independent
too energized
too spiritual
too funny
*too loved

to let you mess with my head
or my heart
again.

last night
we were both half expecting something


and it never happened
maybe we were both tired from the fifteensixteen seventeen *******



we just laid on top of the covers
of my bed
six inches away from each other
my eyes pacing pages of my book

and you solving a rubik's cube,
the creaking of it making me smile.



and i listened to your soft nose breathing
raised my eyes toward my ceiling
clenched my toes
and thanked god
silently

that you found me

with hands and heart


he is thoughtful
compassionate

and wonderful

was all I could find
writing poems late at night
my cracking
popping
       joints are keeping me company in the screaming silent hissing of the heater
the snow melting against the windowsill.
words written in ****** red pen
mean much more or
much less
than they would in the daylight

hovering over a
puddle of you,
“are you okay”

I whisper

you have been asleep
a few moments too long

I worry.

they know passion
they take it too far
faces suspended high,
like skeletal art.

they are passion.
not high risk gossip.

i think i'm healing.

I  hope that is okay with him.

I hope he doesn't think of me and

cry

at the threads of thought

whisper
"she's moving



on"




and I hope he knows


that i could never
have known


what i needed

if he hadn't explained it


through talks of change
and change and change

i was scared


but i'm moving



on


slowly, i am moving
away

from what i used to



Be.

The pain of not knowing
this gnawing feeling
cramps in my sides
squeezing my blood dry
this bed is always too hot
or too cold
wake up freezing or sweating,
always thinking of you

spirals downward
into the hopelessness district
where souls crawl, missing
their other half
leaves fall, trees naked and bare
crawling to the sky like vericose veins
         and I
                       won't
                                      call


because knowing would be worse
knowing that you are gone

and never
             ever
                    coming back to me

late last night i got home
and the skin between my nose
and my upper lip

was raw
from your mustache
and i didn't put lotion on it,
which is something i would normally do

and i didn't brush my teeth
or put my retainer in
and dental hygiene is important to me.

i just walked in through my front door and sighed a deep happy sigh

like the sighs you sigh for me so often.


my hand smelled like your hair.


and i've been taking hourlong baths
lately
which is something i don't normally do


my room is getting more and more ***** every day
and i can't find motivation to do laundry
(this is so not like me)

and i find myself daydreaming about you
while at work
and my heart starts beating.

it's never had a beat before, i swear.

and it's fastfastfast and
hard

like the way we kiss
but then we slow way down

and we play little games
with our lips.
i love smiling into your mouth
because i can't help it.

there has been a lack of poetry in my life


so i concur,

i am exploding

with it now.

I tried

to smile today and
my bottom lip split

rewriting my life
                now that you're
not in it
  mostly my evenings are
        spent weeping quietly
So no one worries
           or asks questions
that I can't answer.

My days are spent replacing
your presence
              with the comfort
of other people and I find
myself
          weeping softly again
    to them all,
                at all times
When I see acorns
             When I drive alone
on certain roads (especially in Eagan, MN)

                  Whenever I hear
                      the word "home"

                                          -everytime.

blood drips drips drips into the sink

flows between my fingers


my forehead
throbbing

dripping sweat

hair plastered to my cheeks
and eyelids



then, in a streak of insanity

i settle deep into the floor
and pull the shower curtains off the rod,
over my head



falling deep
into the floor
past the tiles

past the pipes
past the old couple living in the apartment below mine

and they hold each other
and i watch


as he tries to put it in her

he can't.

they're both too squishy
and wrinkly

and tired

(he collapses on top,
rolls off of her

her ****
sagging towards her arms
******* with a diameter of my balled up fists
she sighs at him and gives a yellow toothed smile)




i want to feel something hard
and slippery
against my skin

i want to get ****** up

                                           i'll never forget
                                 that blood stained towel
                                      we placed under my hips

                                           to stop the blood
                                                           ­                    from staining the bedsheets.


                                              just like the one

balled up under my head
on the bathroom floor



eyes closed

I am sitting outside of our home

Hoping, sending messages telepathically
messages that you will never get

that you might meet me here

but those towers were knocked down today

and it was today that I
realized that you
are just as gone as they are.

What once was
                             is now a pile
of rubble and dust
never coming back

but, when i drive up that hill

i can still see them

and when i walk
down that hallway, i still
see you behind that desk
wearing the sweater i gave you.

Happy to see me.




but you're gone
                                  gone gone gone.

the ghost of you is
everywhere.

I can see
your face

hear your voice
feel your skin, your hair

and i miss you.

I try every ******* thing
I can possibly think of

to stop missing you

But I haven't found anything

that quite does the trick.

i met a new friend.
we get along pretty well.

one day, we were walking through ikea

and he called me a train-wreck
and laughed.

he probably thought that he had said it in a way
that was convincingly facetious
(joking.

but there was a note in his voice
that made me realize

he was, in fact, serious.

and i still don't know him well enough
to tell him

that no one has ever found a more accurate word
to describe me

when we ******

it was never

reassuring.

(i guess i wanted
[i realize now, i never needed reassurance. i only ever ached for love, which
you could never find

time for] us to say goodbye)

it never made
me happy
(okay, one time)


every time (except one)
it felt as though

you were sweeping the floor
completing a chore


so that your mother would stop screaming in your tiny ***** face


Never stopping to ask me

"is this okay"


"it's fine"
would have been my cold, numb answer
; thinking about how you used to sing
to all those other girls
but you never wrote your own songs

and how i could never be yours
because
you
never wanted me(you would never admit it,
your pride will **** you before i do)

but when you pulled out of me
and laid beside me, (your cold slime oozing out, disgusting me)
staring at the ceiling


**i hated you

he thinks about it minute by minute
month after month

and how sweetly he craves
ravenous for its wetness and **** taste

and sweat that will pour out of her
he wants that too

and he thinks “I would be gentle, tender, loving”

but he passes her--silently on the bus every morning
contemplating her ivory thighs
and sighs into a tissue when he gets home every night
and wishes for something more than his wife can give him

something new

but God made all vaginas alike

I opened my laptop
to write a poem about a windowsill

and I found one of your ***** hairs.
on the space bar
it was a happy moment.

burnt mouth taste
aching chest
legs tights and cramped

heavy head, not to be held up any longer
by the strings I have cut throughout my day

i want to be free from them
I want to hold myself up


but i always wait
wait for your strings
to be tied around my wrists

please tie my soul to my body

I fear it will fall away
and I will lose myself in the sadness I felt before I met you

and I will go back to being the sad person i was

you remember.
I used to write those sad poems

now my poems are only sad when you feel far away

I reach
            My arms are not long enough
my heart feels like a lake of clear
                                water, bursting through a dam


I explode with desire
                                  to hear your voice

to understand everything about you

               My feet are rooted to the ground
                        and yours have blisters from running

I do not understand
                           I wish to understand

to know how and when your heart beats
                when and why you feel pain

                         where you are
      
                                    where are you?


How can I get to the place to where you
                                            are going?

i always wake up with a sinking feeling in my stomach

but this morning, it felt much worse than usual.

everyone is going back,
to where we used to be in love.

and that place is empty without you

and as much as i tell our friends that i will come visit

i dread going back there.
because it only ever reminds me of you

i walk down streets and i keep hoping i will see your face


but you're gone

******* gone



and i can't figure out how to accept that

I'm turning this **** around right now.

Valentine's day is about love.
It's not about whether you've got someone to hug and kiss.

It's about making mix CDs.
It's about having someone smile at you in the hallway on your way to class.
It's about calling your grandma.
It's about giving a little extra when you've got enough to live on.


It's about spreading love;

not worrying that you didn't receive enough.



so get off your ***.
go love someone.

You only get this excuse once a year
to do something perfectly wonderful
for another human being.

My daughter will not crawl from crib to tanning bed.

She will learn
the terms “unnattainable beauty standards” before she learns the alphabet.

She will never compare herself
to anyone.

She will never compare herself to Britney, Christina, Selena.

She will never compare herself to Cinderella, Ariel, Belle,
Hell. No.

She will never aspire to be the sultry *** kitten taking seductive showers in shampoo commercials.
No.

My daughter will be named Venus.
The goddess of love, beauty, fertility,

The most beautiful woman I ever saw.
She is plump, fullfigured barebreasted wide hipped with curly hair covered mons

Goddess.

My daughter will grow up to be ******, poisonously beautiful

With long locks of goldenrodred hair, like her mother.
Greyblueblack eyes and shoulder freckles, like her father.

And if I can never become pregnant,
my sisters daughters will be my daughters
skin the color of cinnamon or chocolate, or vanilla ice cream
and just as sweet.

Men, women, boys, girls will pine over her, fall in love with her radiating skin
that will never look photoshopped, but always real.

As if the sun came down from the sky to give her the glow of all the light in the universe.

She will love her body the way that my mother taught me to love mine.
I will show her pictures of Whoopi Goldberg and America Ferrera and Margaret Cho and Marilyn Monroe

And she will know that beauty
is not a synonym
for skinny.

Beauty
is not a synonym for
****.

Beauty is not defined by size
or color
or texture, no.

It is defined by how she distributes
her love
and light
to everyone she meets.
no exceptions.



and she will never doubt that she is lovely.

i know i change my mind a lot

I like your hands
;slender beautiful/ fingers
.

(it's silly, probably
to think about hands so much) (  )

And your smile, unexplained, inescapable.

but i can trust you
to understand, take things slow, with me.

I wouldn't have it any other way, I swear

and i will never compare you
to all the people that came before you



and i won't sing about your hair

or write poems about your lips

( even though i will) want to


i just don't want you to think


that you're like everyone else
I'm not
worried
though
.

you know that you're different
( i am pretty sure... that)
we both know
that i think about you
a lot
and i'm going to miss you(r hands)

i'm taking this slow,
like a train ride into the horizon

we can take a few years getting there,
and i'll enjoy just taking the journey
*is this okay?

The worst thing to ever happen
Was you

When you kissed me that first time
I thought I was gonna have to pay you money for it

And when I first held your hand
I thought it was gonna feel like needles

The first time we had ***
I thought maybe
I would hate it
I thought it would scar me

I thought maybe you would be so bad for me

But the worst thing that happened
Was me

Being wrong
About you

I love water the way you love music

My life revolves around it, I drink it
                                     in through my lovepores
You have a neverending
string of notes and tempos
                always slipping right through your fingers

I grew up in bathtubs, pools, rivers
             ponds, lakes
I dipped my toes into the places
I felt most at home.


Maybe you grew up on MTV and cassette
tapes in car rides
                      and piano.


I'm sinking
                            in this

and at least we both know what
it feels like to be obsessed

don’t worry about decisions anymore.
I can think for you. Here,
buy this brand of tampons.
Watch me now. It’s more absorbent. Here, stick them in your ears. You’ll have
s   o  f   t  e  r
t   h  o  u  g  h  t  s.

Pillowy white fluuuufffyyythoughts.
    
You don’t need your brain anyway.
no more thinking,
I can think for you.
here, watch me now.
Look at these happy plastic
assless women
wearing delicate bras,
so beautiful.
Why don’t you buy one?

they’re uncomfortable

well you’re ugly,
unwanted,
but you wear what
you
want.
Wear this bra.
Maybe it will keep your heart from aching.

You don’t need your heart; I can feel.

I can feel for you.




So watch me. Hey, look here.
Buy these shoes. They make your legs look like celery stalks, but your husband will “do it” with you again. That’s what you want, right?

right.

Put them on. Please your man, make the food, wear the shoes. Don’t think.
Please your man, feed the kids, do the work. Wear the shoes. Don’t you dare think.

I can
Think For You.


Aptitude is overrated. Your biggest asset is
your body, bereft of a brain. Don’t think. I can think for you.
Wear this. Buy that.
Spend your husband’s money, make him happy.
Please your man,
make the food,
wear the shoes.
Now, for your anxiety,
take these pills.
Three little blue pills, one big orange pill, one little white pill.
This one makes you skinny.
This one makes your teeth white.
This one makes you dumb, this one makes you numb.
Don’t think. Don’t worry about where your husband is.
He’ll probably come home tonight.
There is no divorce on TV, so it must not exist.
Don’t think. Oh, you poor little ****** woman.
Tiny, powerless drone robot. Don’t think.
Robots don’t have brains.
Dolls don’t have brains.
****,
***,
*******,
legs,
don’t have brains.




Close your mouth.
Don’t speak.
I can speak for you.

That bra is uncomfortable?
Shut up.
You want me to wear a ******?
Shut up.

You want to be yourself, with the brain, with the ******, with the
*******, with the child. You can’t have all and be free. Choose.
Don’t choose. I will choose for you.


Please      your     man

Make      the      food

wear      the      shoes

There will be no discussion.
There will be no negotiation.
There is no **** on TV, so it must not exist.

No thinking
no thoughts
no brain,

just ****, ***, *****, legs.
wear the shoes, please your man, make the food.

Eat. Sleep. Breathe. Work.
Die.

Recognize the regulations,
recognize your place.
Your /place/ is in the shoes,

those   d e v i l      traps

eating your sweet feet.

all the time--wear them
They are
comfortable. They are ****.
don’t think
don’t cry
don’t moan
whisper
whimper
Shut up. Don’t speak.
I will
speak for you.
Clocks, computers, ****, ***.

You
Are
Nothing

pit in my stomach like a punch to the ****** the room fades away and things become blurry my eyes lose all focus and my feet lose all balance i gracefully sink into the floor

escaping myself

because you could never fathom the horrible things that run through my head
when i'm alone


i was thinking about how
you got me to
stop thinking so much
and just feel things for you
instead

the first step to all of this
is to convince you i'm not crazy

and the second step is to get you to kiss me

and the third is to make you happy.

fourth step, tell you that i love you

repeat

when love is black
and our fingers are intertwined

i look outside and see the white snow
and tremble with anger

but i hold my sustenance dear

when the walls have been broken down
and there is confusion in our voices

i look to the blood red sky and pray
pray, yes, I pray
that i will see it blue again
in  this lifetime