Mark my words
Like you mark calendar,
With a bright red pen,
Because you'll be haunted by them
Like they are the date of your death.

A long whsispered monologue
Curling up in a ball
The fresh air of winter morning
Sleeping with the lights on
A first and final passionate kiss
Tip toeing down a hallway
Conversations at twilight
Eating chicken wings with nothing to clean your hands
Searching for lost treasure.
Waiting for the rain to come.
Watching a snowflake melt into water.
The first crop of the season.
When somebody hands your wallet in,
And the money still in it.
Reconnecting with old school friends.
Visiting foreign shore and ancient city's.
Building a business, building a brand.
A trip to the Tate national.
The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan and Neil Young,
For starters.
When the night won't seem to end.
The sound of your voice in the morning.
Breakfast in bed, fresh coffee
In a wide open space.
*For all those times I took you for granted.

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

when last have i had a 3am kind of conversation,
with my star like emotions scattered all over the darkest parts of me,
mimicking the sky,
my moon like persona that always returns back to hiding me away.  
when last have i felt safe enough to let somebody in,
to not have visions of my vulnerability being tied to the bed after he locks the door behind him,
his voice like some sort of broken record that keeps on repeating that
"it's gonna be okay."
when last have i had a shoulder to cry on that isn't my own,
for my neck to stop worrying that the tear filled sea on either side won't get waves big enough to drown me.  
when last okay,
when last has it felt good to be me.

my fingers
hovered
over the screen
ghosting over the letters
thinking of texting you
like it could somehow
let you know I was thinking of you

and I have fifteen
pictures of you on my phone
and I looked over them all
like seeing your face
in two dimensions
could make up for the fact that
I hadn't seen in it three
for two days

and then you were right behind me
and I don't think you noticed what I was doing
but god, it felt like happenstance
was on my side

because your voice
there's nothing too special about it
objectively
(as if I could ever be
objective
about you)
it's not deep
or husky
or dripping ***
like some people I know
and most of the time it's not quite soft
it's slightly slippery but
with sandpaper edges
but I love it
because it's yours

and  I love the face you make before you sing
off-key, usually
but you don't hold back and
I love you for that too

and you're not particularly tall (you're exactly average, actually)
(but I'm barely on the tall side of average and
she's even taller so
you seem smaller than you are)
or dark
or even handsome, by most standards
but you're like a breath of fresh air every time I see you
(swiftly taken away by your bone-crushing hug)

and I love the face you make
when you're skeptical
even though it looks nothing
like a skeptical expression should

I even don't hate
the things I should hate you for
because you have never
made me feel like I am
difficult to love
(even though
I think I am)

Although I'm a little annoyed with
how you made all my love poems
disturbingly heteronormative
for a while

I loved you
before you told me
explicitly
that you liked
being around me
and I loved you even more after that

good god,
I love you so

and it scares me because I shouldn't
and it scares me because I can't
and it scares me because one or both of us will end up hurt
but I'll take the pain
now and later
I'll always sacrifice
for the happiness of my friends
like I said
and you thought I was being so kind and
noble
but I think it's cowardice
and it has
never
felt like a choice

this summer was like
lucid dreaming an exorcism,
watching the little skeleton rise and scream and shatter
I bit into a mouthful of summer, expecting
sugar, and buttery love, but instead got a mouthful of
blood and broken teeth and shattered souls