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?

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 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

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

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.

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

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?

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 follow red threads
back and forth, i am hungry for a map.

as the walls seem to grow further and further away,
i follow the line.

i am ever walking towards something
timid or bold,
the pit is inevitable.

The perpetual surprise
It stings, it stings, stings.

Built only to break.

i find the beating nerve on my chest,
soothe it with words of indifference -

do not get attached to what is not yours;
do not hang your hopes upon the mantel of his presence.

i repeat them often; my mantra.
always unsure, as i call, jawbone queasy, if it is self-love or self-doubt that drives my anxious heart

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?

I begin to forget how I loved you
When filling up the space you left

And I watch you,
As you fade
To become only a ghost in my memories

‘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

like pebbles

we make the mountain crash in slow motion

every time we decide that we should step further

it just drags us closer

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

i.

it starts with a note on my forehead
meant to humble my roots.

and when i smile at you,
you regret the foot i have on the other side.

you will say
that i was a puzzle to fix.

ii.

there is a shadow lingering in your words

my stomach knots but i let doubt sink deeper
knowing that it will fester

but eyes so earnest could not have been resisted

iii.

the wood beneath my back spins
i hold your hand for safety
and you break open the walls
with no intention of ever finding a door.

iv.

i called you a brick wall
i hardly knew how right i was
until i shivered and pleaded
for some rhyme or reason
for the things you chose to break.

in that moment I understood
the words of jealous men -

I wanted your body
To be cleanse from the touch
Of other women

And I understood holy rage

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.

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

protected by doors with no
keyholes

i am a fort, doe eyes
bad lies and a certain flair

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

for someone else

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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?

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.

How am I to walk this path?
I do not know myself,
Lesser still where I thread.

I am but uncertainty,
Darling, I know nothing
Not even myself.

How I fear -
I have said no lie.
I did not doubt a single word; then.

How can I express it,
It consumes my thoughts.

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.

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

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

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

my darling, i begin at the end
with leaps taken and the shreds for evidence.

you asked and i gave and such
is life.

i feel the drain upon my body
my heart already slowly broken and
my prophecies fulfilled.

i trace my stars of cassandra
and i wonder if i brought this ruin.

my love engulfed you and tore you apart
i am my own ruin.

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

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

there is an odd storm in my chest
filled with missed steps and
there is always you somewhere

the unavoidable emptiness of half hearts
always lingering where we should not,
and the variety of cynicism born
out of a desire to be proven wrong.

pressing up against your eyes, i see it too.
i see the reasoning slipping, my friend
you want it all too.

so recklessly we throw ourselves against the tides.

'prove me wrong, prove me wrong'
as the song comes out in a whisper that
perhaps nothing will ever be as good as it was.

all the memories of my past selves have claws
from the fingers i pried off of them

i try to let it all sink beneath my feet but
you throw them back like plastic,
saying 'they're drowning the turtles'.

your hatred is relentless and
i don't remember what i did to be on the receiving end

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.