i've read about it in books,
but would not like to tell about it in my life story.
it's something you cringe at,
but when you're staring at a TV screen.
this is real life,
how can i pretend?
smile my sweetest smile,
and talk my sweetest talk.
but when is it okay to stop?
to yell, to cry, to pound your fists.
bite your cheek, they always say.
but i can taste the blood,
and i need to get it out.

They say it's foolish to love you, my dear
I don't have the right to fall into you
I am sure this time, in my heart it is clear

And all I know is to love, I really do
We have differences, there's a gap between us
I don't have the right to fall into you

I know they would say, it wouldn't last
And all they see is trouble in this connection
We have differences, there's a gap between us

I know what they see is our imperfection
Though they criticize how I feel for you
And all they see is trouble in this connection

Please don't hear what they say, please don't go
No matter what happens, I am still the one
Though they criticize how I feel for you

I just want to love you the best that I can
They say it's foolish to love you, my dear
No matter what happens, I am still the one
I am sure this time, in my heart it is clear.

Lately I've been
Thinking about this little girl
That was in the room next to mine
At the state rehab
Facility when I
Was 13
She was always
Crying
And being
Told to wash her face
Use her coping skills
She was 6
And her parents told
Her they were going
Out for
ice cream
Then they dropped her
Off
And she hasn't seen
Them in two weeks
So she's crying
And she's scared
And she's telling this
To a drugged up
Hospital gowned (they took all my clothes at check in)
Preteen
She's scared
I've got scars up
And down my arms

She's scared
And she's crying
And this isn't the ice cream parlor
Down the street
From her suburban home
And this isn't her bed
These aren't her friends
And I don't know why
But I promised her that everything would be ok
And that it was fine to be scared
         her parents were coming back

Everything would be fine
And perhaps there would be pudding
With sprinkles at lunch
Which is pretty close to ice cream.

I wrapped my pinky around
Hers
Half the size
And I promised her all of these things
None of which I really knew
To be true
A nurse came barreling down the hallway
And screamed at me
For interacting with a younger
Girl in a different program
Then they moved her to a different room

I never saw her again
Heard her cry
And I forgot about her
Little blotchy
Swollen face
Crying to me
Throughout the years

Then a few weeks ago
I remembered that you had promised to me
You would always be here
Which you couldn't possibly know
And I thought of the girl
And the ice cream
All of the promises I made

I wondered if I had lied
To her
And I wondered
Why we so often
Make promises
We aren't entirely sure
Will be kept?

Neck bent a little far to the right
Impressions of sheets in skin wrapped too tightly around willing wrists
Makeshift bandages for cuts that have closed but still bleed.
You must be out for coffee
Or on a call that couldn't wait
But Sunday's are for rain and dreams you can't quite remember
And secrets tucked in a leg bent at the knee.
I can't tell the difference between lust and love making anymore though I'd like to still believe in the latter.
You return and I lose myself in the corner of your eye and I hang myself there on those lines
Allowing myself to kiss you there just once for fear of becoming too entangled
A sweet suicide that'd be
Gasping for air
Lost in your laughter

“Dearest Degas,” she scrawled
script tipped and tainted by blood,
a reward only the most skilled of movement makers receive,
one she gives away all too freely.
“It’s times like these that make me think
I used to be a lot closer to God
and to you,
but the lines are blurring now
between you two
and I am burning now with memories
of the arch of your back echoed by brows
crested by beads of sweet sweat
raised higher still with finger-lickin’ lies
and lowered by our goodbyes.
They say my knees got lazy,
but I pray en pointe daily
at that battered barre,
my altar
closer to God than they’ve ever been.
And it’s His name I speak,
spoke
over us as we rolled in our sin.
‘Turn to God!’ they screamed
but you were always a better comforter than He.
And without you to give me form,
I will dance no more.”