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this is a craigslist missed connection ad
because you were
beautiful and drunk
and i was
drunk
when you approached me
at the beer tent
said 'hi'
and something about my '...bare feet'
but all i heard was 'kiss me ******* the mouth'
we had so much chemistry,
neutrons and protons colliding
when our fingers touched as you
passed me your cigarette, exhaling
i watched as your hair began to stick
to a crest of sweat on your neck while
we chatted for forty seven minutes and
thirteen seconds, near as i can figure
never mentioning each other's names
or phone numbers but
if i ever see you smile again
i'll slip you my name like a prayer
pressed to your lips or a ring on your finger
even though you said you hate jewelry
your ears, so cute and small and not even pierced
solitary necklace adorning the angelic collarbone
now burrowed into your left breast
it's a cheap faux crystal trinket with a purple tint
that you got for $15 two years ago
but you love my earrings
saying you always had a thing for guys with tattoos
you're an environmental sciences major
and a wonderful butterfly
with eyes like an ocean
hair that just won't quit
and the most delicate navel
i've ever seen
you're perfect and
i might've dreamt
of your legs
for the last two nights
those devilish muscles that first
brought you close to me
then, quick as light,
stole you
away.
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
A bee with innards spilling
A lost tabby,
A blimp caught up in trees,
Tintern Abbey.

The gravestone of a lover,
A drowning ship,
An NHS delivery of
Fortisip.

A girl with alopecia and
Fungail nails,
A one legged pigeon,
Exploding whales.

Ivy choked churches,
Merlot tongues,
Parrots plucking feathers,
Marlboro lungs.

Girls locked up in attics,
*** toys.
Boys punching girls
And punching boys.

Babies crowning
Fussed about like kings.
Darlings,
You shall see such pretty things.
Don’t just take a walk in my shoes. Become my feet.
 Jun 2014 pushthepulldoor
Moe
I thought you made flowers grow in my lungs, but I finally realized that they are weeds.
So I smoke my cigarettes in hopes to **** all of those broken promises you put inside of me.
She brings out the worst in me.
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