it has become less like poetry and
more like a confession,
more like if i dont get these words out
of my palms i will burn up under all
of my anger.
how do i talk about not loving you
in a way that contorts my words into
honesty?
how do i immortalize this pain
into writing to remove it from
my heart?
i come apart, i am
undone, there is nothing i can
say that will erase how you
felt,
starry eyed and drunk in the
drivers seat.
be careful, slow down, don't
stop
there is no pity.
i cannot force myself to forget.
all i do is remember.
all i do is not-forget.

you keep leaving,
chained to exit signs and
one foot out every half-open
grocery store door
chalk it up to curiosity,
to wanting new things,
to blooming in nature with no roots,
you keep leaving.
and i keep staying,
growing on the side of the childhood
home you told me you loved me in,
stable and wrapped around a tire swing
where you kissed me for the first time.
chalk it up to memories,
to sentimentality,
to the comfort that surrounds safety,
i keep staying.
and every summer, you leave and you
drag your feet through the dirt from
my porch to yours,
past every cricket-chirping dusty town
and i wait,
letters pinned to a mailbox and
welcome home mats on the floor,
i am taking my keys with me this time.
i will always stay here, i can't
imagine my body living any other way,
but i lock the doors at night.
you keep leaving,
you keep running away and i just
can't force myself to chase you anymore.

and i am sorry, oh
god i am so sorry that
i cannot apologize for the
things that have made my love
hard. i cannot take blame for
the way other fingertips have burned
my skin, i cannot atone for the bite-marks
on my wrists, or the start and
finish lines, the races that have been run
down my thighs and to my ankles.
i cannot pardon the graveyard of past
love that vandalizes my body like an oil portrait,
i have always looked like a museum exhibit
for the art of leaving. i am carved out by
the stained glass of all of my goodbyes
and it has taken my love by the throat,
it has rubbed my mouth raw, it has made
gasps of air between the breaks of kisses
hurt my teeth. i am sorry that i cannot
excuse the people that have
made me flinch, made me distrust, made me
carry myself gentler when it rains. all i can do is
give you a paintbrush and tell you that
i will still be art when you are finished with me.

i think that you are lost
your hands shake and you try to make yourself small
your hands shake and you try to make yourself very big,
like a bird that sticks out all of his feathers at once
you are desperate,
you are, "tell me you see me."
you are, "tell me i exist to you."
i think that you flinch when i touch you because
youre not sure where you stand
or which version of you must take place in my palms
when its dark outside and we sit in a miserable room to be happy together
your eyes wander like a lost kid in a grocery store
untouched terrain surrounds you
and you are terrified to take your first step.
your voice drops when you are honest,
your eyes get cloudy when you mention your parents
there are things i have written in a notebook of you
people i have seen you turn into to hide yourself
and you'll tell me,
"you are crazy,
for writing poetry about a boy who can't speak."
and i will tell you,
"i am crazy,
for falling in love with the words i hear in the silence that belongs to him."