We are covered by the dark
Blanketed by the milky way
Moonlight kisses your skin
I wish it were my lips

Between us are a row of strings
Begging to be plucked
We'd make a symphony
Soothe the city to sleep
Instead they draw you closer to me

Drawn to you
Stars to the midnight sky
A musician to a new instrument
Can't help but wonder
*What does it take to make you sing?

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

My palms split open on my broken heart
My blood paints the roses red
The lying rabbit runs away
taking a few shards
of my shattered looking glass heart
to adorn her shallow watch
Grasping slivers I tumble down
tears and blood
mingling with a salted tang
screams rip my throat
nightmares choke my mind
Her watch ticks on...
Bitter cold gives way to golden afternoon
my no longer white Rose lies with Tweedle Dum
wrapped in rapture
loving, living, in the sun
Shy Violet hovers at the edge
twinkling in and out
Cheshire cat wears a different face
luring me with a flashy grin
I reach out in friendship, shiver away in fear
moving through the Red Queen's maze
The Carpenter walks beside me
confessing love I do not have
The Hatter appears before me
reaching out, sea colored eyes bright
His touch so bittersweet I sigh
He'll leave again when the gold fades...
As the momeraths scamper and play
the flowers whisper "You'll be okay"
While doctors force pills down my throat
and strap me to a bed
the Jabberwock lurks inside
clawing. shrieking.
OFF WITH YOUR HEAD

Its 1am and Im searching for you in the bottom of every bottle.
He's asking me about my poetry but how am I supposed to tell him that my poems are for you and I wont stop writing until Im tangled in your bed sheets for the rest of my life?
He is sweet and polite but he doesnt wrap his hands around my neck and the way you do.
There's something so tragically beautiful in the honesty slipping from my finger tips, because while he's tracing my spine I am consumed with the taste of your skin on my lips and the feeling of your hands against my hip bones.
Its 1am and im wondering if you're searching for me in the unfamiliarity of others, hoping you might smell my scent on her collarbones or feel my skin under her dress.
Out of all the boys ive kissed, you were my favourite by the way you looked me in the eyes with those hands clasped around my neck, no fear of squeezing too hard.
Its 1am and he's holding my hand but you're strangling my heart and these words are seeping out of my skin. No one makes me bleed like you
only you, always
you



alanna