Sometimes
She felt his skull could crack under the passion in her fingertips 
And wouldn't that be beautiful
To end here, in the immediacy of desire
And wouldn't that be kinder?
Than the drawing out of this pain of inevitability 
The guttural ache
Before the final crack
The splintering, not of bone
But of two hearts 
Prised apart by the fingernails of realisation 
That their shattered fragments can never make each other whole.

Tall trees and grass everywhere
Howling wind and grasping branches
No one to be seen or found
All, all alone in the darkness

Light far away in the horizon
Stretching out to grab it
For every breath, a step closer
A flame inside called hope

Someone dragging me back
I am fighting back
So tired and exhausted
But the longing for you is strong

For a moment, just a second
Giving up sounds fine
I close my eyes as I hear
You whisper to me

I decide to try one more time
So I set my eyes on you
Determinedly I find you
And finally I am home again

She was the kind of woman
who would light
candles
only to blow them out
because she knew that the
wafting smoke
made her look mysterious
and I
a fool
who likes concepts
more than dealing with people
allowed myself to be enveloped
until the secondhand smoke
made it hard to breathe
and I couldn't see anything
anymore
and all I could hear
was the flick flick
of a lighter that
had run out of fuel.

‘ground rules are important’, i say as i

twist my hand around knees and pinch

the skin inside to keep myself, functional.

the rules are as follows,



number one

we can’t sit together at dinner parties

it makes me itch when our arms touch



number two

i can’t look for you in the crowd

just to make sure you haven’t left

or that you’re looking for me as well



number three

you can’t not talk to me, it makes the room

dull and lights too bright

you give me headaches that cripples



number four

you can’t talk to me, it makes the room

feel alive and it consumes me from the

edges, making me fade little by little

it is all made of butterflies and tiny heartbreaks



number five

we can’t walk together,

i don’t think we’ll learn to stop



number six

we can’t kiss

once it started i couldn’t stop



number seven

we have to kiss without touching

your eyes must trace the space between my

eyes and mouth

they way mine do



number eight

this has to stop but

like you said

how do you become friends

with someone

you don’t want to be friends with

it leaves the taste of wrath
on my tongue, careless words
poignant with lust

for someone else

it is the pinning
the sweet anticipation
one more word will solve the
silence that grows between us

i am sure you think of me during
these hours, at least as little as i try
to think of you in your absence

it is the pinning
that pushes me away, every word
i reply with some impatience
(disdain)

and i wonder if you feel the same
for me as i feel for him

when his words fall on my lap
and i wonder why him
and not you

you tell yourself to
get out, just go
buy a beer, walk
around, but these
people still look
lifeless and you
end up having to
chaperone a field
trip to the local
dance bar,
corralling drunk
adults into corners
realizing that these
people have no
agenda other than
to touch you or
fight, what a
silly notion
to believe that
it would be any other
way--worst of all,
April is there,
probably March,
June and July, too.

it rests on your eyes, like glass
they follow me around or sit
on the table and there's this
heart wrenching silence in your words

please, don't