.
                    Time,
                    space
           ­         and everything in between.

                    Heartaches,
                    tea­rs
                    and secrets that don't come clean.

                    Gambols,
                    laughter­
                    and smiles beaming keen.

                    Deep thoughts,
                    aloneness
                    and the dark places we've been.

                    Handholding,
                    carel­ess hugs
                    and ready shoulders to lean.

                    Reckless stabs,
                    impulsive jabs
                    and caustic words we don't mean.

                    Contentment,
                    count­ing blessings
                    and hope we can glean.

                    You,
                    me
        ­            and everything in between.

.

the way your skin
matches the earth
makes me fall in love
with both
just a little more

it's just a t-shirt but
there's something comforting
about how it carries
the smell of your worn out sheets

you were my entire world,
and while i accept blame and responsibility
for making a universe out of a mere mortal,
that doesn’t change the fact that
the sky suddenly seemed empty
when you left.
the stars shone a bit dimmer,
the light in my eyes went out.

eventually other people came along.
they carried torches and used their flames
to rekindle the ones i had lost.
the stars started glowing again.

i learned how to remove you.
dug you out from under my skin,
erased you from my brain.
you became mere mortal, once more.

and i was okay.
and then you came along again,
telling me you were sorry.

i don’t want an “i’m sorry”
i want you to tell me you miss me
i want you to tell me there’s a hole shaped like me
somewhere in your heart,
and you want me to fill it again.

i want you to tell me i changed you,
that you also can’t listen to
the songs that we used to sing to each other,
have memorized by heart,
because that would mean having to acknowledge me,
remember what we had,
and that would hurt too much.

i want you to ask if you cross my mind,
because i cross yours all the time, and it’s as if
a piece of me has been etched into your brain and ears and eyes,
so that no matter what,
there are certain things that you can’t
watch or read or hear
without thinking of me.

tell me you love me.

because no matter how far away i try to throw you,
you always seem to find your way back to me,
back under my skin,
back into my heart.

i haven’t stopped loving you.
i don’t know how to.

but i want to.
so save your i’m sorry’s,
save your nostalgia and frustration and sadness
for the next girl whose heart you break.

there’s no room for it here.

We're from two different worlds,
You and I.
I desire to reach out,
To touch you -
But my hand is swallowed
In the galaxies between us.
Your eyes are cobalt planets -
Deep emerald waves
Crashing upon their shores.
The smoke curling from your lips
Is dark, dreary:
The forsaken Milky Way.
I watch you,
And I know -
I will never close that space.
There is too much in the way,
Too much noise,
Too many opinions,
Too many disapproving, shaking heads,
And furrowed brows.
Our asymmetries are miles deep,
Coursing through
Your bloodstream,
Coursing through mine.

She couldn't decide who she wanted to be,
so she was everyone.

She couldn't decide what she wanted to do,
so she did everything.

This
was better than being no one;

This
was better than doing nothing,

as many are, and many do...

She
was not them.

She
was different.

Maybe some day we will dance
Holding hands in disbelief
As tears of joy
flow from our eyes
While the field of flowers
will cheer in salute
Maybe our eternity
will come to an end
And our day will come
to begin . . . just maybe

Just maybe I hope
beyond my dreams

Somewhere, amongst the debris
of cigarettes after ***,
chemicals to induce sleep,
I forgot what it means to love.

I forgot what it means to breathe,
to sit still, and just be.

Somewhere, beneath these hooded seams
of solitude and well-versed grief,
beats a heart less cynical,
less tamed by vague distraction.

My nervous ticks and bad habits,
line of best fit for a near-hit
of satisfaction:

This is not enough, I know.
This is not nearly enough
to cool the bray of life
that still rattles meaning in my bones.

I forgot what it means to love,
what separates a house from a home.

Somewhere beyond this thirst
for brand-new words
is a gratitude for all that has been.
Every cliché holds a truth.

Every sentiment, a cocoon,
that I should lie so still inside

until I am wholesome,
until I am new.