two years ago my body was anything but. i built bridges
into my heart and burnt them down
just so all the memories couldn’t pass

this is an apology for all the good things i left stranded,
for the massacre inside me,
for the worst parts that survived the war

i never intended to grow outward instead of up –
just wanted to be a part of the needed,
of the appreciated and loved

i stopped playing the piano when i was nine years old
because i hated the emptiness that filled the air
in between each note

one night my dad slammed the door so hard my mother
shook for days, i made her coffee in the mornings
because she couldn't bear to sleep in a half empty bed

those were the first nights i spent writing
rather than sleeping. this an acknowledgement for the words
that never made their way onto paper

to all the bridged dreams and deserted soldiers -
i am coming back for you, all of you,
and i will tell your story

riverboy swears he’s got bees in his throat,
says the cure’s in his bottles
so he’s been tossing back anything that might drown them
and copious amounts of pills he can’t pronounce
just waiting for the buzz to stop

he’s been pacing around the bus stops just thinking of a place to go
smiles softly at anyone who asks
says, “i’m just waiting for a thought to come”
he’s just holding on to the time
trying not to let the bees hum inside him

and riverboy’s eyes could make the rain jealous
even god stops just to hear him laugh
though that’s rare these days
riverboy says his voice’s just
too scratchy

too angry, too demanding
too much of the world living inside him
but riverboy swears he knows the cure
so he breaks himself a little more
as the bees hum inside him

one day you might show up laughing
and i’ll let you in the front door
and we’ll sit and talk about the way time passes
faster for me since the day
you walked out the threshold

some day i’ll have to dig up the promises
we have buried in these backyards

once when i was nine i popped a red balloon
and out came my seven-year-old self’s seventh birthday wish
wrapped in unsigned birthday cards
(the ninety-nine cent kind)
and two-ply kleenexes

i had trouble blowing out the candles and that’s when I heard,
“hey, dandelion mouth
you know wishes are better left alone”

i cried so much that year
2009, the rolling snowball
i, dandelion mouth, became the blockade
i became to stoppage

and sometimes i had trouble running so every now and again someone said,
“you ought to just let the sky hit you and call it a day because
we’re all made of rain anyway”

from then on I realized
i’m not the softest girl you’ll ever get to touch
but we both knew that from the get go

i’m just hoping to treat you gentle enough to make you want to stay
for a while
sit down
have some coffee
cream & sugar
we aren’t all made of rose petals and hallmark cards
you know that better than i
the concept of perfection isn’t an entirely insane idea
but it’s sure close

you might meet the rain the same way you do me
with open arms and a cold shoulder
try to catch the words on your tongue
it won’t always be sunny
sometimes the rain will rust the things you treasure most
but it’s okay
we’re all made of it anyway

one day you might show up laughing
and i’ll remind myself not to let the leaks show through
because after all
it’s just time slipping through the cracks
a reminder of all the blown out candles
of all the unsigned hallmark cards

it’s just the rain
and besides
we’re all made of it anyway

we are flickering lights,
passing thoughts.
we are not boundless.

we are finite beings,
centered now only
by the laws of gravity.

there is no magic here.
however,
if you stay still long enough
you may mistake the silence
as something close.

this is no apology.
this is no redemption,
for we are already made of stardust,
among other fallen things.

the universe may move within us
but we do not move within it.

this life is only as wonderful
as we force ourselves to believe.
my dear,
you cannot cheat fate.

try as you might,
there is no breaking the fourth wall.
not here, not now.

but all of this is no excuse
not to love.
without it,
we are mere wanderers
and occupied space.

this is the secret to life:
only let go
if holding on hurts worse.

time places limits upon us.
take advantage of the moment
while you are still in it.

we are only flickering lights,
passing thoughts.
we are not boundless.

so let love move you.
let it draw your boundaries
with the most permanent of inks.

love makes us vulnerable.
the secret of life is to let it.

december: each night something inside me shatters the same way a plate does in my parents' kitchen. i remind myself it's a time to give & so i give the rest of my body to a boy who never bothered to say thank you.

january: this is not the time to be reborn. everything new dies when the frost comes. if i stay still long enough i can feel the clouds rolling in. my friends cry tears that freeze before anyone can acknowledge them. this is not the time to be reborn.

february: since when did the music stop? my mother sleeps alone on the living room couch while my dad splits both shares of their bed. i can feel their first dance in my ribcage. something trips inside me.

march: he paints my arms the same blackened blue as the leaking sky and dares to call me a sunset. i wait for the light to break through before calling home.

april: i think i can feel the rain inside me. he still asks me to breathe more life into his body as if i decide whether or not he will grow into a man. i tell him this is not a time to be reborn.

may: god, there's so much to see. everything has grown up, yet it seems i've only grown out. of love or lies. he tells me to cover up my body as if all ninety-five pounds of me occupies too much of his share of the sun.

june: i keep indoors most days because i can't handle the way everyone looks in the light. they are all golden brown and my skin is still frequently painted black and blue. this time, the skies don't match my complexion. i feel undeserving of the sun and refuse to let it touch me.

july: he does. without permission or warning. my body becomes a strangled flower and he decides to withhold any water until he rips another petal. one by one. i fall apart without a sound. he loves me. he loves me not.

august: this time it's different. pieces of the sky fall down each night i spend alone. i picture myself cradling the moon in my hands and rocking it back to sleep. my god, this is not the time to be reborn.

september: i still shake sometimes but is not often. my body becomes mine again. i can finally feel the sun & i welcome the coming of the rain. there is no shame in loving both the light and the shade.

october: time flies. i throw out the cards and the rest of the apologies along with all my other memories. that is all he becomes. a memory. i paint my walls everything but the color blue.

november: i am seventeen now and want to remember this feeling. i spend some nights piecing myself back together & dance alone frequently. my dear, this is a time to be reborn.

it’s a long way down
from here.
sometimes nothing is gentle,
sometimes everything burns,
and sometimes
you just have to let it.
watch the fire as it consumes you
and everything else.
it’s okay.
sometimes the burns remind you
that you’re alive.
if you feel the heat, don’t let it go -
try to catch the sunlight in your mouth
and feel the world move within you.

it’s a long way down from here
so remember to enjoy the view.
if you do fall, remember
to dive headfirst.
dive headfirst into everything
and don’t be afraid
of hitting the ground.
let the adrenaline remind you
that you’re breathing.
it’s not always easy to stay steady,
so let the wind shake you.
it’s alright.
no one is as strong as they believe.
so fall away into the world,
feel everything you can
at your own expense.

it’s a long way down from here
so take in this moment
and let it push you over the edge.

this must be the way light bends –
around you & all
your Gravity

the concept of momentum eludes me
until our lips meet
in the silence created by it all

//

and in that nothingness I say

“say something that holds weight

say love or lack thereof
say anything as long as you’re smiling”

say you’ll stay

//

this time i can feel the words
leaving my hands

what if you caught the sky
as it was falling
and ended up holding me
instead

//

facedown on the carpet
covered in Gravity
i can feel the sunlight
on your lips

say you’ll stay

//