And feeling the adrenaline of an anxiety attack
like swimming through a ball pit
or watching a crack race across a windshield
or waiting for caterpillars to turn into butterflies.
Repeating, we just keep going left.

It's like waking up without make up
from dreams of an ex-lover,
your brother's best friend.
Remembering when you broke his heart.
His eyes turned red like the sunset,
looking around for an Emergency Exit Only sign.

                                  No one believes you,
                     When you say it doesn't make sense anymore.

Like when you stand in between rows of book,
looking for him like it's a game.
With memories of weekends in bed
flashing like lights between elevator doors,
and his dimpled smile.
Sickening you like a sweets overload.

And like him telling you he still wants to be together,
that he loves you like the moon loves the earth.
It's awkward, like holding eye contact with a stranger,
or when the only thing you hear is clicking keyboards
like crunching chips, and all your clothes are *****.

There is no extinction to his love for you.
He will always come back to you like a boomerang.
Forever holding onto your feet,
like a 10-foot shadow monster.

                  And sometimes, when you're in the middle of everything.
                        The only thing you can do is lock all the doors,
                turn up the bass vibrations to hide from the purple lightening,
                        swing from the interrogation light, assault rifle in hand.

Last night you asked if I wanted you to stay with me.
I didn’t answer because when you’re around
mud sparkles and the wind sings.
Almost like a Disney movie, but more vibrant.

You draped your arm over my waist
and nuzzled into my shoulder.
I forced my eyes open long after you fell asleep,
so I could memorize the way it felt to be in your arms.
And in the morning, we shared a groggy kiss
before you went to class.

I’m sitting across the table from you.
You’re studying chemistry,
and I’m studying your skin tone.
We’re both honor students, at the top of the class.
You’re writing vigorously on printer paper
that’s covered in equations and chemical structures.
Never even a glance in my direction.
Sleep deprived, the only thing keeping my eyes open
is the feeling of my heart being twisted and torn
from the way every time I walk past you during the day
we make eye contact, I smile, you look away
and keep walking.

You finish for the night and I still have a list of homework.
You pack your books, paper, and pencils into your bag.
A short whispered goodbye to me over your shoulder,
and you walk away, tugging at my stomach,
like you have one side of a rubber band,
the other side wrapped around my intestines
stretching and pulling as you fade into the distance.
A sharp snap when you never look back.

The night we first met, you barely looked at me.
Your brother and mine, your friends and mine.
We got rowdy. We drank and played games.
You said I was cute, so I gave you my number.
We talked on the phone every night.
You sang to me as you walked your town.
Then you moved to mine.

I was taking a class, and you were taking a break
from the drugs and the *****, from your old life.
I'd daydream of coming home to you every day,
of your curly, blond hair and the way you looked at me
through your muddy eyes.
You held me in bed and I'd sleep in your arms, unlike any other.
You said it was crazy that I didn't think I was beautiful.
Than you talked to her.

I learned that she still loved you, why wouldn't she, I thought,
and you would go back to her, even though you said you didn't love her.
I said you used that word too much, love,
you should only say it when you really mean it, to not take it lightly.
Shrugging, you said you loved every girl you'd slept with, except me.
Then I ran.

I tried to date others, but always compared them to you.
His eyes are too dark. His hands aren't skinny enough.
He is too tall and his hair isn't curly enough.
I tried to be friends with you, hating her.
I heard that you got in a fight with her and she left, for good.
Then you messaged me.

You were done with her and you were lonely.
I went to you. We drank and watched sitcoms.
Having to adjust the antenna every few minutes.
I took your clothes off, then you took off mine,
and we reverted to how we were before.
Then you hugged me.

Weeks later, I'd given up on you.
I was wearing pajamas fit for three of me, hair on top of my head,
and no make up, when you knocked on my door. I invited you in.
Sitting on my bed, you fought for my attention.
Trying to leave the room, you pulled me into your lap. I finally gave in.
I gave you what was left of me, and you barely looked at me.

The end of a man is a woman.

He wears a ring on a chain
laced gently around his neck.
Never to be forgotten.
Never to be dismissed.

He keeps a crinkled photograph in his wallet,
hidden for his eyes alone.
A smile so perfect across full lips
given by an unwavering, honey-eyed girl.

He doesn't sleep anymore.
Nightmares of what should have been
change who he really is.
No one really knows who that is anymore.

Memories begin to fade,
but awake by faint laughter,
by crooked smiles,
by the smell of apples and lilacs.

He maintains a lie to the curious.
A broken heart kept secret,
along with his fear of love and dreams.
Left in loneliness by the dead.

The end of a man is a woman.

They held you at a distance,
locked in a tarnished cage.
Afraid of what you had become
after living in the ice for so long.

And did you even think of me
when you visited that deep, dark sea?
Was it beautiful like you
when your fire upon ice took you away from me?

We used to be together
Always and Forever.
Though my beginning was not yours
and your ending shall not be mine.

Now you sit in a circle, and they ask you "why?"
Do you tell them that it made you a queen,
even more, do you tell them about me?
Or about leaving ice storm memories of you, no we.

Tell me where you have been and
will we be the same again?
We used to be together.
Always and Forever.

Always saying I love you, baby.
But they’ve only been together a day.
Captivated by the way the
Darkness of each other’s pupils grow
Every time they touch.
Forcing the kind of relationships, but more of the
Groping, that they saw in the movies.
Heated make out sessions in the church youth room, with
Intensity that could make strippers blush.
Juxtaposing every inch of their bodies.
Knowing what to do only because of what they
Learned in health class. Trying to
Master the art of *** and what they call love,
Not caring who knows. Living off each
Other’s breaths. Fabricating
Plans and stories for their parents when they’re caught
Quietly sneaking back into their
Rooms at four in the morning,
Shutting their doors and their eyelids,
Tracing remnant goose bumps.
Until the sun shines into their windows,
Violating their dreams of Cinderella and Prince Charming,
Washing the night from their skin, and shoving their
******* memories to the back and hiding them in a drawer.
Yearning to be touched again, by whom ever the next
Zephyr can blow into their neighborhood.