Do you think that there are others
Who've also met lifetimes ago
who continue to find each other
over
and over
and over again
Throughout the courses of their lives

Teach and grow and mold and flow
Piecing fleeting moments together
In order to create a reality
That is altogether ours entirely

Existentialism and bourbon on Saturday
Pancakes and prayer filled Sunday mornings
We'll hold church between my thighs and remember what it's like
To believe in something other than God.

I want to press myself into your skin. I want to wedge my words between your fingers.
Let me see the dirt underneath your nails that have etched your face behind my eyes.
My chest is on fire, my soul is about to burst.
Stretchmarks lay across my chest; I think I might be making room for this.
But I'm so afraid to rip at the seams that run along these sides.
And I'll watch your lips for days, memorize the shape that they make when you say my name.
You've made a home in me, and with each word spoken I've helped to move you in.
We're nothing more than roommates in this soul of mine, but I'm biding my time so that I can keep on this rhyme.
My stomach is queasy, I think I better take this easy.
And I'm sorry that I embarrass you with each and every sip.
So afraid to make a slip.
Running away from you with every shot and chasing him down to make it worth every dress I've ever bought.

Keeping myself awake until I'm too tired to think of you.
Because when I'm thinking, I'm not dreaming.
And all I've wanted to do lately is join as two.
There's this ache behind my rib cage, and a burning behind my eyes.
These sheets don't smell like you anymore, and I'm sleeping on your side.
This bed is my own again, but I can't seem to forget the way your feet cradled mine, telling me that everything would be alright.
They told me that skin regenerates every twenty eight days.
I still have twenty seven until I'm new, proving to be much more difficult, being without you.

Tell me to go home again, tell me that I look tired one more time. Maybe that will be the push I need. Ask me what’s wrong again. Maybe this time I’ll tell you that I’m tired of the sun rising in the northwest instead of the east. This time I’ll tell you that I so badly want to detox from the drug that is your name. Because every time I hear it, smell it, and taste it I fall deeper down the rabbit hole. Spinning and swirling down the spiral to get to your home. How can you be friends with someone when all you crave is the sound of your name on their lips. When all you want is their hands on your hips and in your hair one more time. Drink in my thoughts the same way you sip that cheap beer. Tired of those eyes that watch you like the preview of their favorite movie only to decide to save it for another rainy day. Pause, rewind, play. Repeat.

Mistakes made, but what good are promises kept if your bed is the only other one on which I've slept? Bearing the scars on our hearts which we wear like the gold time pieces which we are. All the while making up excuses, although they are much more of delusions; explanations of poor behavior. And I'm waking up with bead head, thoughts of you in these tangles. But there's the lingering one that I can't seem to remove. My name flows through the arteries of your chest. Your name ingrained onto my spine, that way I carry you wherever I go. Longing for the way your lips sound out my name, it's burning that spot right behind my rib cage. Maybe I'll take an antacid, but it doesn't seem to pass and, I think I've begun to accept that I will hear your name in every word heard. I've begun to accept that Ill breathe in your scent with every cigarette I smoke. Your taste on my tongue with every word spoken. I'm sorry I'm such a lush, but your name's got me just as drunk and I can't seem to remember what it's like to be touched by another's hand but yours.

I don't understand how my body can be in one place.
But pieces of me reside in you.
And somehow there's still left over bits of me left underneath his fingernails.
And when I hear your voice, all I can hear is the way you sound when you say "I love you, Sarah."
Love me. Love all of me.
Because there is not a single day where you don't cross my mind at least thirty times.
And there is not a single week, where your voice doesn't show up in my head.
I don't understand how the sky allows these thunderstorms to enter her.
Or how the shore lets the ocean continuously kiss her, even as he erodes away her edges.
And yet, I allow you to do the same.
My hands don't feel the same as yours.
They're not as rough, but I'm learning to love them all the same.

Late night conversations lead to early morning revelations. And there's the familiar ache of trying to erase a past that just won't take. Reminders of who I used to be when I look at you; but all I see is who I want to be when you look back at me. Lovers in past lives, maybe this time we'll finally get it right. Torn between a guarantee and a possibility, but please listen to me when I say that I'm sorry that you have to repeat yourself continuously. Its only because I'm trying to memorize the sound of your voice give me directions, when I get lost in the color of your eyes. Won't you just tell me how to get to where we need to be.

I’ll run my hands through your hair and gather the thoughts that make their home in your mind. Grip my thighs hard enough to leave the bruises on my skin shaped like misconceptions and sin. And I swear that I’ll wear down that opposition the same way you wear down my patience. But patience is a virtue and momma always taught me to wear white. Oh, these words are getting stale as they sit on my lips, struggling to break free while I tell you this. That I don’t need, but want. That I don’t like, but love. That I don’t feel, but crave, and ache, and want, and need, and love all at once. A walking contradiction dressed in makeup and curls. Run away with me, I scream from the top of my lungs while I stand on the pier. Telling my secrets to no one but hoping everyone will listen. I’ll whisper my secrets in that bottle you gave me and toss it in the ocean hoping that it will get to you standing five feet from me. But I’m content with friendship, and I’ll live with the laughs and the look in your eyes when you say my name. I’ll store them away for another rainy day.

She asked me what color your eyes were today. I told her that they remind me of the sky and the ocean. I smell you in everything around me. Electrifying my skin but torching my heart. Scar tissue is building with every piece of ash that falls from above, as if these words you tell me light fire to the sky. I was content with adoring you from afar, but it seems that time has a different plan than I. He decided to bring the truth to my doorstep, while she’s trying to help me keep my footing. Your mask is so clever, guarding your head and heart. Protecting you from my words wrapped in lace and satin, in an attempt to soothe your venom filled mouth. And I think its time that I take a step back. I’ve tried to pull you alongside me for so long that my arms and lungs are getting tired. I’ll use these scars you’ve left on my mind as a map to keep from falling behind. And I’ll leave the satin and lace, as a peace offering and incentive to follow. Meet me by the water, where we can wash away these sins. Occupy each others minds in a different sense, but your scent still gets me every time.

And I'm learning to love myself all the same. Without your taste between my teeth. I want it all, and I want nothing. Blue eyes, with pupils the size of dimes. Come here my darling, let me be your novocaine. I'll numb the pain in your lungs when you breathe. Take my breath away as I whisper his name. Three layers peeled, half past three; what a coincidence that might be. Hold me once more, and tell me you're proud of who I am again. Let me be the pillow you sob into at night, while you lament your life. Cradle yourself in my chest, I'll share my breath. But you're under lock and key, and I've misplaced mine. Skin as smooth as your words, and fingertips as cold as your heart. Aching, and a wetness around my eyes. Sorrow not for you, but for my inability to take away your discontent. Sink your misery in my fingertips, I'll promise I'll burn them away with this next cigarette.

Lay on your back show me your scars. Think about how she made you feel, about the things you want to do with her and can’t. Think about all the things I want to do with him but won’t. Show me the road map to that war torn city inside. The war between your head and your heart have created casualties across the battlefield. There’s pieces of you everywhere. I’m trying to brace this storm. I forgot my armor along the way. Unbutton your shirt and introduce me to these soldiers defending your pride, they must be good at their job. I’ve tried to get them on my side, but I can’t seem to win them over. I come bearing no gift, no peace offering except these open hands of mine. Take off your belt and inhale, breathe in my good intentions. Shudder at my mistakes. Run your hands along my misconceptions, grab a handful of my fear and take it in. I’ll touch those scars around your chest and your hipbones, they’re taking me to her.  For I’ve come to meet the queen, the one who holds the key to the kingdom of your soul that I’ve yet to see.

I'm content with my discontent.
Because at least now I know that we're linked.
By what I don't know.
I'm still achy.
But no longer used up.
This is where we're supposed to be.
This is what I'm supposed to say.
Lessons learned, inch by inch.
Afraid to fall, but I forgot my parachute on purpose.
I'd follow you for a thousand miles and leave the map at home.
Waiting for headlights and glances filled with secret romances.

And in that moment there was an understanding, becoming a witness to the pieces of me falling away as I leave the terminal. Two parties miles apart but tied together by these light posts which illuminate the darkness between us.

Wedging myself between the two as if to say it's me, not you. No longer will you take residence in a place that is not your own. No longer will you be allowed to swim in the membranes of his chest. For I flow through these arteries. I stake claim in the unknown. An unknown home that has been robbed of it's most valuable possessions. Take what you will and leave. For I am tired of allowing strangers in my souls resting place.

I don't remember what it's like to be touched by another's hand but yours. I don't remember what it's like to taste lips that aren't soaked with secrets with a hint of sweetness. And the thought of being robbed permeates my pores, poisoning my veins. I'm sitting here screaming, waiting for you to turn around.

You know, when the breeze blows just right, I can feel the way it felt with my head buried in your chest. And the way you smelled of coconuts and lime. So I'll close my eyes and wait, until I'm back in your arms. Reminding myself that I know how to breathe, because every time I think of you I can't remember what its like to have  air in my lungs.

I'll keep these bruises on my heart as a reminder of who you are- of the beauty which encompasses your whole being and radiates light from every sweet word spoken from those rose colored lips that taste like honey. My bones ache everyday, and I'd rather it stay that way then forget your face.

I don’t think I have ever had such a crush on someone and simultaneously been so unbelievably infuriatingly frustrated with them. Thinking of you makes me feel like my chest is on fire. Maybe it’ll help if you kiss me in the cold, or maybe  I’ll just put my heart on ice. Lovers want what they can’t have, and I’m in wanting again. You’re like wishing for rain in a desert. The lion chases the lamb but the lamb is just a little too fast this time around. I’m speaking in metaphors, but honey, we’re a walking cliche.

I feel you in my bones most when I wake up and on the drive home.
You’re gripping my sternum while I hold my breath. Afraid to breathe, if I do this may all just fall away. Trust your intuition but my intuition can’t get past the taste of your *** soaked lips. My intuition can’t get past the way your hands held mine and the way you smile when I start to spill my secrets. I feel like I can’t breathe. I’m spinning in circles trying to get to the center of your world. Your voice is stuck in my head. A broken record on repeat.

I’ve seen the beast within, he only comes out after a few drinks and sin. I’ve heard stories and met him face to face, but wasn’t aware that he showed up in such a beautiful disgrace. A beautiful man with a mouth of fire, and eyes of ice, capable of setting a town ablaze all the while freezing their hearts. I’m no lamb, but my devils learned to talk a walk so long ago. Your issues are not mine, and I will not carry them as my own. But while the crowd is looking to lynch you, I’m looking to make you a home. Let out your demons, make them feel at peace. Trust me, it can all be so much easier than this. There can be peace, and your demons can live in a place without the muddy weight of hate bringing you down. And I want to say I’m sorry for the things that have happened to you, you’re so much better than the evil that resides in the poison that fills your veins. You’re so much better than the hate filled fire spewed from your mouth every time someone presses too ******* your skin and into your space. You can be so much more than the vacant void in those quiet eyes every time someone tells you that you are the world. Come make a home, and let your demons loose. They told me that they’re tired of being pent up, and would like to have a chat with you…

You’re like all the nice parts of everyone I’ve ever dated.
Except there’s none of the parts I hated. 

I wanna make you breakfast every morning, nap with you every afternoon. 

Wake up to dessert on the kitchen table. 

You bring out all the parts that hide from me 

A trigger filled landmine

You’re my landline but ******* I’m lying if I say I’m fine 

Because I’m ****** up and the truth *****
That I want nothing more than your touch 

Say it again, run away with me

We’ll sit in the sand 

Take my hand

And we’ll wash away our sins like the day we were baptized that one Sunday 

But we don’t believe anymore 

And you don’t call me like you used to 

Trying to forget the mess you made 

Telling myself that it will be okay

Though you’re in my head fifty times a day 

Of course I’ll pick apart every word you ever said 

Turning them over between my fingers

And I remember 

The way your hair smells like honeysuckle 

And your laugh feels like velvet
Your skin, like silk. 

Or my favorite **** rug, depending on the day.
Except you’re not turquoise, but I would nap on you every **** day. 

Coming up with words to fight this tugging in chest.

And I’m trying so hard to forget the imprint you left on me. 

But I can’t seem to get my **** together.
Fighting a one sided battle, within this skull of mine.

Arguing with reality, for its lacking credibility.
Had a date with the reaper.
Handed me the shovel, I told him I needed to wait. 

Because while my lungs struggle for air

I’d rather feel this way

For it’s a sign that I’m alive

And that you’re in my life

If only when I sleep 

So, I’ll meet you in my dreams

Where we have no fear

I promise to court you every night

So that you wake up embraced by the beautiful light 

See you on the other side

You don't like who I am anymore. You see my true colors you say. If this is true then you must see the red burning my chest and the grey that's become my lungs from all the cigarettes I smoke to get you off my mind. If what you say is real then none of this ever happened, every word, every kiss, every touch completely invalidated by your words. Your words like venom sparked by the anger and jealousy that torments your mind, but you don't see the tears in my eyes because I've stayed up too late and now I'm watching the sun rise. You don't see the way my stomach clenches up when that **** breeze blows by and I breathe you in again. It gets me every time. You're stuck in between a rock and a hard place, but this time I'm just the hard place. I'm uncomfortable, making you ache like an anchor on your chest. A burden carried around in your pocket like a ton of bricks. Ones that weigh you down and yet keep you free.

Look at me again.
Tell me how you love the way my legs feel wrapped around your waist.
My mouth has memorized the way you taste.
But I know that it's hard to forget all the things you two have faced.
And the blame that you claim is no ones fault but your own.
All this screaming's got my heart beating while trying to keep me afloat.
I'm drowning in your words, trying to save myself while you look past me.
Distracted by the fireworks, like fire in the sky.
Broken down and used up.
Just like that bottle that sat on my floor for twenty four hours because it touched your lips.
Let me trace the lifelines of your palm onto my own.
Watching the clock as if it's hands will bring yours to mine.

I just want to be unzipped from head to toe, let my insides spill out so that you can see everything I’ve been carrying inside. Bend down, pick them up and examine each *****, each word, each emotion I’ve been holding onto. Dust them off and decide if they’re enough for you. If they’re worthy enough to be put back. Look at my heart on the floor, riddled with confusion. It doesn’t know where it is or where it should be, and doesn’t have a home right now. My lungs lie next to it, shriveled up because you took my breath away and i don’t know how to ask for it back. I want to run my hands through your hair and ask for help, help me pick these up off the floor. Kiss me and show me how to use my mouth again. I don’t want to have to speak anymore, use your mouth to pry these secrets from my soul, bring them up, take them in. I want to lay it all out for you, show you everything at once. An overwhelming tornado that is all of me. I’ll unzip myself, place the pieces side by side and wait.

It’s one in the morning, I’ll sit with my head in my hands replaying every word you’ve ever said. And you probably won’t remember, but I feel that I’ve only just scratched the surface of your skin. I feel like the sea, calm on the surface but a whirlwind underneath. I still remember the way your hands felt wrapped around my back. And the way your legs were intertwined with mine as if to calm my heartbeat that went so much faster than yours. I can still smell you on my pillow, and you still linger in my head. A stoic statue of a man who for 20 hours gave me a glimpse into the private showing of the film he created. And you’re right, for as many times as I’ve watched the day come and go I have no idea who you are when the sun comes up.

And I don’t think it’s fair that you get to ignore me and pretend that I don’t exist. When you were whispering my name the last time we kissed. And I don’t think it’s fair that you get to turn your back on me, while I’m left standing here to be. There’s these left over words still in my hands. They slip through my fingers the same way you slip right past me without saying goodbye. If the conditions of our existence depend on hurting each other then honey, you couldn’t be more alive. And I don’t think it’s fair that you get to act like we were never friends- as if keep away were still a popular sport. And I don’t think it’s fair that you cross my mind fifty times a day, while I merely sit in your palm as a pawn waiting to be moved night and day. I’m so tired of being told to sit and wait, it’s something I’ve begun to hate. But hates a strong word so I’ll say this instead, I’m done biding my time until I’m moved by your hand, and all the while you’re holding hers. Afraid of you staying behind and giving me more reasons to try to rhyme. Pushing and pulling and wanting to have my way, so I’ll sit here with nothing left to say.

I forgot it was your birthday today. But I still remember what it felt like, when you etched your initials into my mind.
Or the way it ached, as the touch of your palm made my chest shake.
Picking out pieces of me, but forgetting to put them back.
Oh, you always forgot to put them back.  
I find myself constantly muttering to myself nowadays, that I release the past I left behind.
Putting myself first and back together now that we're separated by 3,000 rhymes.
I am more than the absence of your voice.
Stitching together the parts that make me whole, but never forgetting the fire that you set to my soul.