1
you were what Adam called poetry those first days in the garden; there were no words to encompass You so he used all of them

2
I have heard voices at the bottoms of bottles, always emptier

3
I am angry at my hands for being too weak to turn house keys, maybe you would've let me in if I was strong enough

4
it's all my fault, I know it. the day my father loaded his fear into the back of a pickup truck and drove away was the day I learned that leaving is just coming back, falling out of bed when I thought I felt your warmth beside me

5
show me a word that doesn't look like loss when you hold it to the light too long; there isn't one

6
maybe if I didn't cry so often I would feel fuller; if I was fuller I would have more to pour out to you

7
love me with a depth and severity that would make hurricanes green with envy

8
we want so much and we desire so deeply, it is no fault of our own that we always feel so disconnected; empty of a thing of which we have never felt full

9
playing foul piano chords to an audience of my nauseating loneliness, roars of applause come from your side of the bed

10
it's okay that he only calls when the morning after has proven to come too early & too bright, you've always been the warm & familiar darkness