i thought i saw her in my bed today. the left hand side where she curled up into me. rosie's rib cage against my knee. the soft hymns of her breath carrying me to peace. she looked at my skin and blushed. the stars were ours.


   rosie isn't who i thought she was. her mouth is a gun and she shoots right through me. she doesn't remember the night i kissed her. -my room breathing as if it had a heartbeat of its own. the house was on an astral plane of its own existence and my wings drifted me through. rosie doesn't have wings any more. she tore them off with her own hands. blood has been dried under her nails since.

  we used to sit on my roof listening to the moon. on cold nights, he was easier to hear. i wanted to tell her i loved her. deeply. i wanted to tell her how  i could feel her in my veins constantly. i knew she'd laugh. rosie always thought that was a good joke. so instead i told her about the night i puked pills into my ma's flower bushes. rosie was the only person i could tell words to that were hard to say.