"Count", I whispered in his ear. "Count till there are no numbers left and your tongue hangs in the mid air to find something to speak. Count till your brain turns numb trying to search numbers to count. Count till you believe that there's no ending, no final destination to reach. Count till you lose yourself in the maze of the never ending numbers
Count because the last number that you'll count will be where you'll meet me."

Early morning coffee on the front balcony
Where the smoke dances with the fog
You never liked to get up this early
But something was different about today
The ideas lingered in the air
And you watched and waited for one useful
So you could grab hold of it and put it in a poem
See the words stack on top of one another
Like bricks of a castle you once dreamed about
Fragile but holding such strong will to shield its princess from harm
There was something about this Saturday morning
Something that set it apart from the rest
Maybe it was the smell of rain on the pavement
Or the dewdrops on your balcony railing
Maybe it was the way you simply couldn’t get comfortable in bed
Maybe it was because last night
You slept in it, alone

Sometimes,
the most honest
thing to do
is to lie

I'm cautious to a fault
I've never stared down
The barrel of a gun
I've never held
A blade to my wrists
But I've thought about it.

I was never a girl of extremes
I've never drunk
Poison until I passed out
I've never let my lips
Inhale ash
But I contemplated it.

I was never careless
After a few painful infatuations
And unrequited feelings
I fell in love
And this time, he loves me too
But somehow my heart is still fractured.

I cannot help but wonder
How someone so sensible
So careful
Can still be so messed up
When they have done nothing but
Tread without fault.

The thoughts and feelings
That I do my best to ignore
Stifle me, suffocate me
Even overwhelm me, sometimes
I'm cautious to a fault
And it terrifies me.

to my darling who feels she's not:
our separation is mere illusion.
truly, your pain strikes me as i write this;
your sensations of abandonment,
and the decisiveness they have caused,
bleed from my skin into the fibers of my clothes.
i am no longer clean.
i do not feel pure.

to my severed arm and shortened tendons:
destruction is merely another side of life.
out of disappearance comes all things-
without space, there would be nothing to contain us,
nothing to allow and enfold our beings' spirits,
and they would sputter and cease like my love's flame.
i am no longer yours.
i do not feel full.

to the farthest star that my eyes can see:
your light reaches me- i glimpse you!
in the perceived emptiness between us
there is no distance to be found;
around us exists the infinite potential for
further connection and deeper growth in closeness.
i am no longer alone.
i do not feel sorrow.

"You don't play fair."
"I know I don't.
Neither does life. Or death.
Or anything that's beyond it or was before it."