I SHOULD NOT
FEEL GUILTY
FOR SNAPPING
TWIGS
WITH HESITATION
WHILE YOU
CRUSH BONES
WITH EASE

My life will end
as a blank canvas
on an empty wall
in an empty house
in a street that no one remembers
I will fade into the endless black
drowned amongst
the many nameless
forgotten by all
who once swore
to remember me
I will lie dying
in a potter's field
with a wilting flower
and a first name only
I will never publish my words
and I will never show my art
And I will forget to leave this town
fading like every other here
who had big, but fragile dreams
I will always exist
but forget to live.

ground zero
i become aware of boundaries
i am a dog chasing cars
i sing your voicemail to sleep
there are no surgeon general warnings
to tell me that
the objects in the mirror
are more depressed than they appear
so how do i tell you
that there are parts of my life
that move slower
without you in them?
or that i look for you every day
in emails & unanswered calls
in the sunrises
i didn't choose to be awake to watch
that i sometimes still stare at doorways hoping you would walk through them
   *stage 1 you tell your new lover you've got a splinter and they pull the sound of your body falling asleep on mine out of your fingertip
   stage 2 your new lover says something at dinner that makes you choke so they call 911 & the paramedics do the hymleich not knowing you would ***** our promises all over the the restaurant
   stage 3 your new lover surprises you by cleaning the house & washes the shirt you kept next to the bed, not knowing it was the last thing you had that smelled like me
after
people always ask
what was loving her like?
after a really long silence
i just say
"it must be nice"
but i never say
it's watching paint dry
i never say
it's a window seat in hell
i don't tell anyone
about the dreams
where i am reading you
bedtime stories
each one is a different way you die
& every time i can never save you
dreams where what i think
are angels in my bedroom
are just homeless versions
of myself you never loved
i have dreams
where i pay someone to shoot me
just to see if you would cry
just to see
if you would cradle my body
i don't tell people
that loving you is like
playing piano
for someone who can't hear
that it's hitting repeat
on my favorite song
& forgetting the words
every time it starts over
that it's finding out
there's no milk after you already
poured yourself a bowl of cereal
it's getting locked in the dark
& being told to
look on the bright side
that loving you is like
being reminded of what it felt like
the first time
you accidentally let go
of a balloon as a child
it's drowning without the water
it's the feeling you get
when you start to dance
& the song ends

I don't need anyone to pretend to care about my apathy.
I want to smoke cigarettes and skip meals and nights of sleep.
I want to cry to Elliott Smith and for the clouds to hide the moon because I need the darkness for a while.
The moon is shy, leave her be.
She's either shy or wants to hide.
The lunarity of my own skin shares the same feeling tonight.
I want to hide.
I want people to stop expecting me to be present, available, ready to listen
just because I have to be.
Just because I'm forced to be here.
Because I'm not being held to the earth by anything except gravity.
I don't really have to be here.
I'm choosing to be.
But gravity doesn't exist on the moon and I'm indecisive like she is;
I go through phases.
Right now, I want to be new.