when I fall
I fall hard

and fast
deep and
heavy

my heart eroding
            in the acid of its newest
discovery

            I hate

that
it only pumps when
            its blood is draining and
its fibers are being eaten
            
            alive

when I fall
I fall hard

rib cage swelling
            hinges nearly snapping
                        cracking
                       ­ breaking
as it unfolds
             and remolds
to fit

            you

when I fall
I fall hard

in my mind's echo chambers
my own voice dissolves into air and whispers
            its unconditional surrender

            I only hear yours
                        in eerie
            reverberating eternities

when I try to breathe

my lungs only
have room
for

y
            o                        u
              ­          y                        o                        u
   ­         y            o            u
y                           ­                         o                                       u
            y            o            u
                       ­ y                        o                        u
            ­o                        u
y
             o             u

i washed and folded my dreams
            my threadbare memories
everything i had and i
carried them with me

it was all so much
            lighter than i remember
there was so much more

i was
wearing nothing
but my name
            i never needed anything else
it
            used to keep me
            so much warmer
than it does
now
i never knew how cold
            we are

i remember
looking down at my concave palms
            the ones i knew were mine and
            they opened so deep i could gaze
                        into the blazing eyes of galaxies
                                    –my galaxies–
            every star charted and named
                        nurtured and
                        loved
                               ­     so loved
now i
im not even sure my hands are mine
i know my eyes arent
            i know they
            cannot be so hollow

            they cannot be so hollow

when i went to unpack
every color drained into the ground
and
everything was
ashes

i
touched
my cheekbones and under
the faint shadows of my paper fingertips
my body crumbled
to

d
            u
                        s
          ­                          t

how can you tell me you love me?
you know i know you don't mean it
            i know you don't mean it

just like i knew you didnt know–
            couldnt read the lovesick poetry
                        etched onto the curvature of my pupils
            when you laughed and said "you love me"
because–
            no ones in the business of truth here right?
                        i know whats going on
            we're just pushing jokes real close to the boundary
                        but still no one could trammel up enough evidence
                        to make a case for one or the other

but god if
if you meant it

if you really do love me
then
            i dont think i know who i am
i dont think any of me is left
i think
            i am all evaporated tears by now
            and spent ink

please i hope
i hope you dont mean it

because

this doesnt feel like love ...

id have to forget about you
forget that i ever believed id have it someday
tear down my hope banners and polaroid fantasies
            lists and plans and dreams
because

you told me that i
already have

what i thought i wanted

i guess i had hoped you
wouldnt give it away so easily
            even though i used to wish you would

i hoped id feel enveloped in it
thought id never have to bandage up another frostbitten finger
but i

god
why am i still so
cold?

can i ask you–
            my last request
            ill ever ask of
                        anyone
will you
            **** everything i was
            leave no molecule of ink or
                        inkling of madness

burn all my poetry
            and swallow the pathetic pride
                        escaping in the fumes
scrub my skin
            boil down all the feathered hope you can find
                        it is the only half-decent detergent for tear-stains
            scrape until i glow
wash out my throat
            bleach the mold with indifferent silence
                        if you lay it thick enough
                        the words should lose their sticky grip on the walls
            and drown my lungs in perfume
use forks and trowels fashioned from steel apathy
            to pick out the overgrown weeds rooted deep
                        in every crevice of my brain
            dig out the parasitic seedlings of poetry never written
                        plans never executed
                        fantasies never realized
                        words never understood                        
                        storie­s never told

            **** them all
superglue the shards of whatever is left
            so she
                        will never know enough
                        to care
and bury me
            in the clothes she touched
                        when she told me
                        she loved me

”yet the fervent flame that fuels her will flatten her to bodilessness” — bodiless by Christina Weiler

her blades like
shiny silver roots
            dug into
cold white soil

shaped thighs and calves
ankles forged from steel
firm and strong
            s    t    r    o    n    g
know their frictionless home
            better than the restrictive
                        ground for mortals
she learned to
            skate
                        before she could
crawl

the chill that
            penetrates
her
does not freeze–
it
            charges her body
                        fizzles in her blood
fills her lungs with
            red hot molten
                        fury

each powerful
            gut-wrenching
            scratch
          ­              scrape
            sharp            edge
carves
   ­         echoing prayers into
the heart of her
            unforgiving god

ordered
            by a world that doesn't
            understand where she came from
                        (whether heaven or hell no one really knows or cares)
to shatter
            the ice dreams that saved (or cursed) her
to obey
            the ground
to pretend that she will find that thrill—
            find herself— in
            something else

but through the aches she knows
she will never
forget