hands that sizzle against skin
fingernail markings
and angry pink marks on my neck

a thumb pushed harshly against my lips
but only slightly

fingers, not tracing ,but hungry
following familiar paths on strange
bodies and the urge to just shut me up

or argue on a different plane

the look of victory on both sides
neither willing to compromise but
aware that the sheets are the white flags
not so much swaying but rather tangled
and pushed aside for peace talks

lingering looks over half filled glasses
whispering when you don't need to but
just to know how it feels to have your face
on their neck and letting them know
you're thinking of it

pulling back at the last second,
let the moment before the kiss last
as long as it can possibly go on for

watch your arm break out in anticipation,
******* hard against soft fabric and
wondering if you're also thinking of
my clever mouth against your skin or
your face between my legs

staring at you fingers, i wonder if they'd
slip in smoothly on the first attempt and
i watch you fidget with your belt

and wonder if you're thinking you'd like
me to be there to carefully and attentively
undo it while i tell your foreign policy
seems to be lacking

your drunk, nibbling on something sweet
and your hands move in circles
i wonder what you're thinking of
as i nibble on a pencil

seven hours and i wonder if
conversation would last that long
were we sitting in the same room

we talk culture clashes and imperialism
you say i'm a perfectionist and
i say you don't think things through

and the morality of *** lingers on our tongues

i live in fear of
all things left unlived but
i do not fear you.

i fear fear itself and the end
which always comes but i can hear
it coming for me

always

i was made to stand lonely
but you see my pain and tell me
it makes you whole

this could be it, sunshine

i was frustratingly
madly
deeply
recklessly
in love.

all on my own.
and you promised me stars
while you covered my eyes
and lied when i asked if that
was the sound of you leaving.

look at it and weep
i say, setting the bait and
you rise to the occasion

french pours out of your tongue
the way english does from mine
and it melts together into keats

we enter the realm of quick fingers
and one minute to think of a clever reply

and you call me la belle dame sans merci
leaving me wondering
if you do think i'm beautiful

my heart bleeds poetry
it spills from every corner.

a heart that beats -
stubborn, against all remedies.

reason balms my ache;
sweet rationality says
‘just not meant to be’.

but it beats on and spills still
moon after moon,
it lives only to ache.

my heart bleeds poetry
only for you and I ask only
that it be still.

that is my tragedy.

I will change the table
Someone so kindly hid under my desk
I will change it tomorrow
There's a trapdoor of sockets
And my chair keeps getting stuck

Tomorrow I will smile wider and
Not fiddle with my hands
I will not nod again and again
Like a bubble head on speed
When someone is speaking
I will not fear moving too loudly

When tomorrow comes I will
Be sure of how to wear my hair
And what to say when someone
Asks me if I've brought lunch

I will try to eat with company
Not hide in the restaurant that
You only know if you've been
There before

I will not cry at the thought of doing
This forever, for the rest of my life
During lunch, chainsmoking
My feelings even if my lungs can't take it anymore

Tomorrow I will not feel words
Dying in my throat

‘ground rules are important’, i say as i

twist my hand around knees and pinch

the skin inside to keep myself, functional.

the rules are as follows,



number one

we can’t sit together at dinner parties

it makes me itch when our arms touch



number two

i can’t look for you in the crowd

just to make sure you haven’t left

or that you’re looking for me as well



number three

you can’t not talk to me, it makes the room

dull and lights too bright

you give me headaches that cripples



number four

you can’t talk to me, it makes the room

feel alive and it consumes me from the

edges, making me fade little by little

it is all made of butterflies and tiny heartbreaks



number five

we can’t walk together,

i don’t think we’ll learn to stop



number six

we can’t kiss

once it started i couldn’t stop



number seven

we have to kiss without touching

your eyes must trace the space between my

eyes and mouth

they way mine do



number eight

this has to stop but

like you said

how do you become friends

with someone

you don’t want to be friends with

if you

i. call

i will use the phone
like the proverbial apple and
see how it stands against
gravity, seven floors and concrete

i will pretend it's your head
and aim for the stars

ii. text

i can write words so wicked
and i can recite poetry so vile
you'll wonder if there was ever a day
in which you indeed called me
your friend

remember, my memory is far better
and my cruelty is far more constant
than yours ever was

iii. visit

i believe in paying kindness with kindness
and the philosophy applies to every other
act of self appeasement
i know your home address
i might not climb but the pavement
by your windows are full of loose stones

i also believe my aim is righteous
when my heart is true

iv. speak

your tongue, so lean and practiced
your eyes, coveting what is not yours
your hands, wondering loosely

i would have them all and use them
to remind you that the kingdom
was never yours

v. persist

hell hath no fury
like a vindictive woman

it is the pinning
the sweet anticipation
one more word will solve the
silence that grows between us

i am sure you think of me during
these hours, at least as little as i try
to think of you in your absence

it is the pinning
that pushes me away, every word
i reply with some impatience
(disdain)

and i wonder if you feel the same
for me as i feel for him

when his words fall on my lap
and i wonder why him
and not you

I stumble through my words
And I tell you my fictionalized truth

I meant it all but I mean nothing of the sort
I never do.

It was -

The way my chest felt compressed and full
It boiled and ached when you
Kiss me on the cheek.

It didn't feel right, I didn't feel okay.

I didn't know what to do,
So I verbalized my mistakes.

I counted them
Again and again to push you away
Hoping you'd be scared but you
Kept steady, you stayed and stayed.

And all I wanted was for you to leave.
I love better at a distance.

do you understand the emptiness
of love unlived and promise unfulfilled?

it is the emptiness of silence that could be filled
but isn't and words hang on by a thread

it is the casual indifference of never to be resolved
and the jolt of recognizing where you stand

no men's land on your own, waving a flag for quiet

i suffer through a lens
as i make my grief acceptable
and lets the pieces fall in pretty patterns

you drag your feet through the desert
and tell me i've left too much sand on the carpet.

how long must you bleed before you drown in hatred?

Longest standing –
Missing the train,
The car, the chances.
The security of sterile hopes,
The breaking of the blood molds.
We are made of flawed glass,
Of cringed sand and timeless
Brass.

iii.

you cross my mind often enough
that regrets swallows me whole

and there will always be a part of me
that curses the former self for being
lost in the corners of a mind
thought to be misunderstood

i had no words, none left at all
i stumbled and never got back up

i had no words to explain
there was nothing but the sense of
vastness

and i was lost
and lost i stayed

i bury the hatchet and
my heart that bleeds and still
has grave dirt on the corners i can't reach
tells me that this time it is enough

how much longer must i pay
for the sins of women i don't remember

barely washed, strings in careless
lumps at the top of your head,
like a crown of grease and wax

you sit nervously, you play with your
shoes and you look at me as if the
sun rises on my mouth and sets
on my *** and oh boy i sigh

you gave all so carelessly and i took it

only to give it back, words that lit up
the night sky of early summer like
fairy lights and perhaps that is all i am

your body is frail
your eyes wide and
round
and i do not care

it pains me not to answer but
mostly that i should
we said friends but i meant
the type that never writes and never calls

i want no responsibility
i've already broken your silly heart

i.

in the spirit of renewal,
i begin the journey

and find myself stuck

all these memories come alive
and i do not know how to tell you

i never forgot

you are so very far and
so very lost in time
and i often wonder if we've crossed
paths before

have i seen you with glossed over eyes
were you a face in a crowd i did not want
to see?

never do you mind.

i hear that it helps to write down,
so that it goes into the world
you'll follow that red thread to me.

or is it the other way around?

you will -

make me laugh, that way that
hurts the back of my head after a while
the sweet pain of hilarity.

and you will hold me when all
i want is to crumble and despair
you won't make it alright.

but you will make it better.

i don't mind if you don't talk
(too much)
i talk and walk and rave enough
for a crowd
let alone for two of us.

it really doesn't matter if you're
not tall or a little short, or
just my height.
all it matters is that you have eyes
i can lose myself in and a sweet smile

or is that too much to ask?

i don't ask that you understand
how deep the waters run
only that when they crash against me
you know enough not to crack me further.

i ask only that you know how to weave peace
rather than riots and war

i have a battle raging eternal
i have enough fire to keep us warm.

there's a car not drifting by, there's a voice
not being heard.
there are steps not being taken
outside on the dark street,
but then again that might just be me.
as the silence fills in, i try to inaugurate new ways
to neglect that it has even been here,
has ever loomed over my soul
(i pretend
and fail to accomplish, but the mission is just too
difficult for my childish hands).
and i read over all the things i have already read
tonight, as if the answer for my prayers could be found
in the words of mortals, because if they are, i have
yet to find
proof

that one day, oh maybe for one fleeting second
you ever thought i might just be
the answer to your calls and quests, the ideal
of something that no one can ever quite match,
the epitome of the longing imaginarium that you
carry inside, like the rest of us, just flesh and blood
mortals, the one vision, incubus of ambiguous substance
that your heart can't deny itself.
call it noble, call it gallant, but love has never
interest me.
the songs it sings, the blood is rushes, the
the hearts it steals, the dreams it envisions
are just a new form of  destroying whatever
rationally brings.
must we forever suffer this burning *****,
with such bittersweet ache?

it leaves the taste of wrath
on my tongue, careless words
poignant with lust

for someone else

i have only moments
- minute portions or points in time
to remember you by and
what i remember are plaid
shirts and lingering eyes

but in the claustrophobic heat
you stare across a screen and there's
a lover's trail and you watch me
watch you

one day i woke up
and i couldn't remember
what it was like before you

It’s the dark marks you left after you bit me.
I’m not doubting your soul, I’m just wondering
About its location, and
I’m warning myself
To once again, to once more
Not throw myself
To the dogs
To not jump the shark, hit the ground.

You always liked pop culture references, love.
Can I swear? Can I hate you when your fingers
Are touching me and when your skin flirts with mine?
Can I break down on my knees
(I bet you’d like that)
And start screaming, with all the rage and all the ******
Love I still, always, feel for you, as it rubs off all my
Confidence, as it rips apart, ****** inch by ****** inch,
Every part of my stomach, and every part of my not
Yet fully mended soul, as your fingers follow the trail of
Sin and pleasure, up and down, in a deaf rhythm, my limbs.

Can I, fully aware, relish in your touch, as your fingers
Trace every scar and every memory that your presence
Has left through the years on my skin?

Do you know how all the teeth marks on my shoulders
Remind me of a night? Not just any night. A night where
I counted stars, literally and in the abstract, as I sat down
And forgot how to use words and the sinking feeling of knowing
That not even beloved poetry could really give the feeling
Of how beastly I feel nearly you.
Oh limbs, that cry for touch and strength.
How can I make justice
From you?
How can I possibly honor the feeling of hungry need?
As it beats, craves, screams it’s eerily war cries.

Despair is my nom du guerre.
Oh, how reason has deserted me.

The summer air leaves me shaking
And with only constellations for company,
I sit and I navigate through my
Red threads, tracing back

Mathematical simplicity,
I add and subtract emotions
Leading the wreck into cold waters
To give myself time to breathe

My toes tremble under water
I've forgotten how to swim,
Clinging to the sides of my own body
I wonder if there's life beyond these walls

Poetry seems to have deserted me
All words have been read before
Do not lead me into shallow waters
With promises of winds

The sky is full and I want to drown

You enter uninvited and
Leave me at the door

You're all I've ever feared
Why can't I tell you I like your smile?

oh won't you look at that?

(don'tlookdon'tlookdon'tlook)

another sting that hurts in that place
i've already tried to convince myself that
doesn't hurt because it shouldn't hurt, it
wouldn't hurt if i wasn't such a liar.

fingers hover over keys and
i am, as usual, lost for words.
i cannot write about thing things
that really matter.

but i think to myself
' i need healing,
and peace
and quiet '

but you will no give me any
even if you do not know it.

i read somewhere
' if you want to let go of someone
do these things' it said

write a list of the things you dislike about them

so here it is:

you're always late even when you're early.
in fact
i don't think i've ever seen you be early
what the hell do you do?
how can you consistently be late to
everything the same way i'm always early?

that's effort to be that unpunctual.

you never finish sentences
because you're bored or you forget
what you were saying

you refuse to remember to do something
out of laziness and carelessness
and you said
' my parents tried '
not hard enough.

you keep thought hidden and
you lie out of convenience.
saying you like it when people
aren't politically correct.

i think you're just too scared
to say some things yourself.

scared?
lazy?
or just weak?

i'm not sure. but i don't like it.

you only help me when i'm sinking
and you don't like the way it looks.

you only seek me out when you
haven't seen me in too long
and you stumble on your words.

you never mentioned her in months
until you did and never again.

you never say her name.
why don't you ever say her name?
if it hadn't come up, would you have ever said
' i have a girlfriend'

i know how your voice sounds
when you speak about your sister
and your mother
and your father.

i know you eat together as a family
and your sister hasn't been visiting that often.
i could see the resentment on your face
when you told me about it.

you don't like sweets or chocolate
you always order coffee the same as mine
you thought it was strange that i didn't like bread
but you didn't seem to mind.

you said
' she's going to sit there '
and
' you looked worried, so i followed '
and
' we can talk about this at lunch '
and backtracked when i asked
how were we going to talk at lunch?
you had it twice in the common area
and left.

you don't like to be touched or touch
but you touch my arm and i've touched you
you didn't flinch.

you follow me around the room and
whenever i show up to talk to him
somehow you always end up by his desk

i walk in and you get up, walk around the room
either avoiding me or running from me

checking to see if i'm coming out to smoke
(yes i saw)

i dislike that you're doing this.
i dislike that i don't mind it at all.

it felt like coldness, a january night
the feeling of certainty leaving my body

when the numbness passed,
and my chest was made of raw nerves
and the tightness in my throat
made my eyes swell
i am sinking.

with empitness, you assured me
you might have never loved me.

The stars ooze from my chest;
You’ve taken roots and
This love call my bones home.

like pebbles

we make the mountain crash in slow motion

every time we decide that we should step further

it just drags us closer

Words unsaid, songs unsung
These poems slip through my fingers
Like stubborn sand that I can't bottle, I stare into eyes the colour of the sun
And I'm frozen

What words do I have left?

it was not the ****** that woke my conscience
but the way you kissed the soft side of my thighs
that gave rise to a smile in the dim light of summer

it is the comfort of youth to lay beside you
and know that if time leads us wrong
it will be a good memory

Dear you,

This is not my first love letter.
You will know I've written dozens -
Something no one knew before you

The first page was filled with the thoughtless wonders
Of my sixteen year old mind.
How romantic it was to consider that perhaps one day
The man I love would read them?

I threw them out with the rest of the things
I didn't think I would ever live fully.

So, dear you, how did we get here?

i carry the burden of my hatred close
to the memories of my love.

i carry the cruel words said in careless tones
how you never apologize for anything you've done.

i carry the weight of words from others
to whom i have never asked anything of, not once
for their words are never to help, only to tear something out.

you are so viciously wrapped in your own vitriol
that it spills out, and you hold my hands and say
'why are you never enough?'

Hands trembling
and I don't know how

To s
      p
       e
        a
         k
anymore

Watch me tumble, feed me ravens and nonsense

I know not what these feelings are
And the dance has stopped in my head, couples left standing
How to explain when the song ends?

What are these words for if
They don't help?

With all of the things that I have learned,
I intend to not use them until I am old.

I will try to let experience not run me down, try
And make misery stay underground, by the roots
That I am trying to escape, through memories that
My heart conceals so I am never too late to see,
To touch, to catch all the breezes, the opportunities I
Would miss if I wasn’t so silly.

So, I write it all down, in hopes that they’ll leave,
Aspiring to never let the ruin bring all the melancholy
Back home, back to me.

Tribulations and curses that we all mask as omens,
Trying to tell ourselves that no fate is ever written
In stone, and alas, we keep swaying around in the room,
Where we all simply imagine who we’d like to be.

Is there a life elsewhere to be lived, distant
From all the things that we have never sinned against.

From all the things we hoped never to have, indeed, sinner.
A epoch of stillness, a generation of no wars to fight,
All the campaigns have gone, now we’re left with just light.
But light, what is light, it’s no absence of dark.

Today all the dusk is from within, so I struggle with
Phantom’s what could have been, and the most cruel
Wraith’s are the ones we create, with mixtures of guilt
And dreams, showing us what could never be, for now
Time for that journey has long came and gone, and
What ever is left, but the hope to move on?

So, I still preach that silliness is the path that remains,
The innocent ignorance to never think.
So, bring me forward those unblemished worlds, those
Unexplored promises, I shall use them as such,
For they will never have expectations, and thus never failed
Promises.

webs forming, nimble limbs
under the strain of convention,
there is a reaction that weighs the air
around us down.

and as hearts between again, practice
is forgotten and doesn't it always feel
like the first time?

again, we swear that we've never
felt quite like this before.

It’s the quiet, quiet  light that makes me despair
Interesting, your eyes they seem to stare.
And – no.
You don’t love me.

ii.

my eyes cross the line between time
and distance and all there is left
is the vague memory of bittersweetness

i missed you more than words can express
i should have been better then i was
but i didn't know how to be

all was lost inside and all the spark was gone

The perpetual surprise
It stings, it stings, stings.

Built only to break.

iv.

This is a letter to those friends,

The ones I lost, the ones that stayed
The ones that I took and left
The ones I misunderstood without regret.

It was.

It just was.

And I can't say I don't regret it.
Because it aches still, when I revisit.

I know the words now but I didn't then.
How did I know I should have asked for help?

And this is ****** poetry and I lie to save myself
But for the love of God
I was so young then.

I was bad, bad, bad.
I was anger and wrath and pain
I was solitude and couches I didn't leave
And I was not taking showers and sleeping
All hours, all day, all week.

I was emptiness and grand plans
And empty promises and broken oaths

I missed you more than you have ever known.
I miss you still.

I miss you always.

I'm so sorry.

the curve of your lips
softly turning against your skin
and the soft light of early summer
against gold eyes so translucent
they call me and

it makes me want to lose myself

memory of touches, the way my lips
throb by just the thought of your
fingers on them

your lips on mine is a thought that is
chemical, creates butterflies

your eyes have a gravitational pull
and here i am, barely holding on
**** of war without meaning to resist

your fingers trace my arm and
you say you left with my scent on you

falling seamless, it's the silence between us
that i don't notice and
never did silence linger so easily
i forget myself rather than you and
all i remember is the way you filled up
the room

i hold on to my words and i weigh them
on the scales of your design, i must measure
every sentiment least it be toss out
at the altar of your discontent.

and every cruel word is remembered
and i hate that a little love is chipped away every time.

i wrote always as a bystander
lives were words yet to be put down
a ****** of life and of the pain of others

the world was best experienced as tourist
never really there, just a stranger in a photo

'you'll barely remember me' i said
the sound of glass shattering beneath my heel

and i would wonder
'why are you so fragile?'

it was pain seen by a lens,
if i caused it, you'd understand
later rather than sooner
i need those tears to fuel my pit

how can i hurt if i'm not really there?
ghost of an idea you created
a fiction of smiles and words tailored

it was sweet when i was told
'you're softer than you look'
because how would you know?
i lie and i hide, i always warn but it's a
self fulfilling prophecy

i'd say i didn't mean
but i didn't care enough to think
so casually cruel, it was never me on the line.

i write this in confession of my crimes
because i've seen the result of what someone
more similar to me than i would like
did to you, my darling dearest

i'll mend you not to atone my sins
but to cleanse yours

it's care and concern that drip from these lips
and i make your pain ours, i make your frown
mine.

this is my love letter to you

it rests on your eyes, like glass
they follow me around or sit
on the table and there's this
heart wrenching silence in your words

please, don't

poetry written by fingers
have you ever tasted anything so sweet?

you kiss my skin once
and leave a trail of fingers on my body

this has all been written before by history
and each other.