you are
too busy
to live
yet
too idle
to die

I guess you could call it poetic how by the age of 12 I had no recollection of what happiness tasted like on my tongue. Some would say it was tragically beautiful.
But it was not poetic, nor was it beautiful,  but it was tragic. It was so very, very sad, and that sadness is only doubled now that people see sorrow as glorious.  It is not glorious. It is not strength. It is a lump of iron in your chest and stomach and it eats you from the inside, out and you have no right to think that blood stained wrists are anything other than tragic. So very,  very tragic.

Every morning, when I rise from my bed
I let your ghost
Settle in me.
I touch the necklace I wear every day
The necklace I plan to die wearing
And whisper,
"I love you."
Because I've tried hate-
It tastes
Like bile.
I've tried hard at hate
And I just love you
Too **** much.

When I leave my house and lock the door,
I turn away and look to the sky
And I whisper,
"I love you."
Every time you cross my mind,
I say it like a prayer
Because you are gone
And I cannot pretend I don't feel it
Anyway.
I look forward and...
Life is flat, like a comic book page.
Greyscale, like a cheap newspaper.
But I will color it with your name,
With my memories of you.
I will make things grow.
I will make them solid.
I will make them mean something
By loving you.

When I leave this town,
I will touch that necklace,
And say,
"I love you."
When I leave this state,
I will stop to think of you,
Take it off and watch it glitter in the sun,
Turning, turning,
Throwing shards of silver on the dashboard of the car
And I'll think your name,
Say to it,
"I love you."

When I leave this country,
I will take a deep, steadying breath before I step onto the plane,
Look back at a ground I've never truly learned to uproot myself from
And clutch that pendant,
That charm that reminds me
That I am always yours
And a part of you
Belongs to me,
And I will say,
"I love you."
Before I go
Even if I know you will not hear it.
I will say it,
But I
Will still go,
Missing you with every step I take.
And someday, when I leave this life,
Even if I have grown old and grey never having touched you
Again,
I will leave this life
Saying
"I love you."
And you can leave me.
And you can forget me.
And you can blame me.
But you cannot
Stop me
Loving you
And you cannot keep it from my breath
From the rhythm of my steps
From the beating of my heart
From everything my fingers ever touch and create
From every morning and evening of my life.
When I think of you,
I will touch that necklace
And whisper
"I love you."
Because I know
Finally I know
It is no use not saying it
When I feel it.

If I can ignore you,
then
I don't need you?

The fall of any man is
hid
in forbidden things.

I cut myself on the future
I thought of kissing your picture
I detached myself from
lullabies and sorry eyes
only to realize:

I want to make love to you in November,
just before the empty of December.
Where snow blankets
and suffocating leaf-beds
aren't the only dreams
to fall asleep in our heads.

I could hear your voice trip
as my hands started to drip
around your hips and thighs-
You could tranquilize
with your lips and byes.

You look so sleepy-headed
Many words I have threaded
to weave a dream
desperately
but you prefer my
reality.