I don't want to: see my reflection,
talk in riddles: see your reflection.
feel your eyes on me like tired boys
look at hot water and coffee grounds,
wishing they'd connect on their own.


I hate myself : I love myself.
All parallel and in between.

"let me get a good look at those lips,"
hands compete with tongues for beauty,
and feeling.

Like oil in water I'll pull you apart:
Together.

The bruises, the thoughts and the feelings:
I can't explain.

The reasons:
your fingers through my shirt
beneath my skin,
inside my brain
wrapped around my mind.

The thought of not seeing you,
the sights that appeal to you,
all the things that disolve in you.

A bubble bath:
you and a stranger
both your hands
under water:

Something soft:
you're after,
nothing new
just skin.

I feel you trying
so much harder than I do
and it makes me smile

we both need something
in between these parts of us
so that we can fit

power in numbers
our eyes reach a conclusion:
one plus one is one

I don't know how to react anymore
and I don't want to see or read
or feel these words anymore.

I'm back to:
numb
too far past cold to:
feel
too close to warm to:
go back.

I'm noticing pieces of me
that are pieces of you,
and pieces of him,
all bundled together in little buckets
and big buckets and zip-loc bags
and old mint tin cans,
see them spilling from your open spaces,
and hear them ringing in all of mine.
Mostly from the half of you that cares
or the half of you the matters because of it:
the deeply-colored-yet-rarely-touched,
the wide-spread-and-beggingly-waiting.
the almost-loving-but-definitely-can't.

everything.

procrastination
is not being able to
love you right away

religion is dead
but the taste of butterscotch still lingers in my mouth.

I know it's freezing outside.
that's why I want you to hold me so bad,
it doesn't matter if it's you, it could be anyone,
but I know you need it just as much as I do.

I want to read you something
a little more meaningful than
a grocery list, and I want you to
smile more, but I want nothing to do with it.

I'm more situational than you seem to notice,
and I like how we can sit quiet and listen to nothing,
but I'd much rather hear your voice through the
haze of tension that seems to follow us, rather than
watch you sit alone on a welcome mat for depression.

I love you is a funny way of saying I love you,
but none of us really know what it means until
we know what it means, and I know how bad it
hurts when we lose what it means, but I'm sure
we'll find it again. Even if we have to be patient,
and scream a little, and **** someone worthless.

For what it's worth or how much you care,
I want you to know that I care, even if it's
only enough to dodge questions and push
boundaries and cross some t's or some lines.

You give me cold feet and hot cheeks,
but in the friendliest of ways.

the sounds you made,
matched with the eyes you made
are nothing compared to
her red nails, and  the single you saw.

she thinks of riddles before she falls asleep
and every time she rolls over in the night
she hears the same lyrics that she'd like to hear you sing.

promises of bra straps peeking through shirts
and leaves tacked to the walls you'll bounce off.

he talks of color
and losing himself in upside down words.

Not sure which way he'd fall, even now,
with his hand sleeping between my thighs.