With night sky
there is usually
a moon there.
Usually.
But not always.
A pale surface
beaten into—
An expression,
as if saying,
"I am tired.
I have seen too much."

“I can’t wait to share lives with you, and go grocery shopping with you and have you offer to carry my books and go on picnics with you and go for two a.m. coffee hunts with you and to be able to kiss you whenever I want and to be able to hold you whenever I want and to be able to crawl into your arms after a long day and to have you hold me after I've had one of my breakdowns until I fall asleep. I can't wait to be able to see you every morning sitting on our couch with coffee and a smile. I can't wait to have you surprise me with flowers for no reason and to have you leave cute notes for me all over the house and to fill your thoughts every hour of the day, the way you fill mine. I can't wait to have you shower me with little kisses and surprise me with bear hugs and spoil me with your genuine love. I can't wait to be the part of your life you can't shut up about, I can't wait for you to show me off to your friends and to have you be proud of me. I can't wait for you to be in love with every part of me as I am with every part of you. I can't wait to wear your shirts and breathe you in after I've had one of my little fits. I can't wait to be the reason you are functioning and alive, the way you are mine. I can’t wait to massage your neck after a long day at work or have you tell me what you found interesting about physics class and spontaneously slow dance after an argument and spend a lazy afternoon in bed with you playing with my hair and me playing with your fingers. I can't wait to be the one you collapse against, after a challenging day of training. I can't wait to be the one kissing you and hugging you and supporting you after every basketball game and every race and every marathon. I can't wait to hug your sweaty body and grab your slippery face and kiss your lips so hard that you can ******* adoration and love for you. I can’t wait to start a family with you and to see you look at what we have and I can’t wait to grow old with you, even if I know you don’t love me back anymore.”

It's not going to be... From this point, it's over.

You hugged me as If I am your world
But then you pulled back from that hug to chase your universe.

HE'LL TRIP YOU UP AND YOU'LL FALL DOWN THE STAIRCASE AND WHEN YOU REACH THE BOTTOM HE'LL HUG YOU AND KISS YOUR BRUISES AND CALL AN AMBULANCE FOR YOU AND PRETEND THAT HURTING YOU WAS NEVER HIS INTENTION BUT IT'S HARD TO BELIEVE THAT WHEN HE HAS DONE THIS SO MANY TIMES BEFORE

The blustery winter sky sighs her name,
and my eyes pulse with the beat of the rain.
I can't help but ponder 'what if'
we hadn't been so **** selfish,
and I've grown so **** tired instead
from being so **** stuck in my head.

But my head
just ain't what it used to be,
then again
what's the point anyway.

and here i am again
at the intersection
of pedestrian language
& old wives tales
swallowing gum
like 7 year memories
opening umbrellas inside
cause i can't seem get away
from all of this rain
i ******* with my left hand
cause i was told
back in highschool that
"it feels like someone else is doing it"
it gets me wondering
about the difference between
losing you and finding out
that some one else found you
or my sleep
or lack thereof
its starting to tear me apart
i keep having this dream
where you are in
an unfamiliar body of water
trying to wash my poetry
off of your hands
or the one where
something happens in my chest
every time you sit
on someone else's bed
i'm tired of feeling like something you've misplaced
but don't have the heart
to look for anymore
tired of you saying my name
like you're trying to bury it
i'm tired of wondering
if you can tell the difference
between the absence
of my voice & silence
the other day
i almost started sobbing
at work when a woman
asked me about
our equipment
i was explaining how
things come apart
and almost mentioned your name
it made me think
of how you used to say
things like "what would you do
if i showed up on your doorstep
one day?" now, i haunt
the windows in my house
i don't leave for weeks at a time
i sit on the porch like the dog
you didn't shoot behind the shed
the one that refuses to die
until you come home again
i told somebody once, that
you didn't even know
what my voicemail sounded like
i wonder if they thought
it was because you
are so important that i never
let it ring that many times
before picking up
or if you dont know
what it sounds like
because you've never called
you can't be the ****** weapon
and the search party
i'm tired of all the seats
to the ferris wheel in my chest
being empty
tired of your voice
being the one i look for
in abandoned places
that one sound i beg
to bounce back
down vacant hallways
i just seem to stand there
in all of that quiet
like someone looking for a mistake
on an eviction notice
so i guess the hardest part
isn't letting go
it's forgetting
you ever had a grip
in the first place
and since you've been gone
i wonder if when
you pushed yourself away from me
you used your left hand
so it felt like someone else did it