I have kissed boys

Girls

People in between

But lately I have been kissing bottles

Their lips are colder than yours

But slowly I have realized that the pounding headache when I wake is less hurtful than the shattering in my chest

Yet as these toxins rush through my veins

I can't help but miss the tracing of your fingers along my skin

Miss the numbness of the world when you lie with me

But when I wake I remember that a headache is treated with an aspirin

While heartache

Well if you have a cure for Heartache let me know

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

She was the finest of vintages,
and of her love, I drank deeply-
-knowing that my drunkenness
would be worth any hangover,
for a sweeter wine
I have not tasted.

It was something small. In an effort to persuade me you said:
“I barely ever ask you for anything!”
Later you revealed that you felt bad, and that you didn’t mean it threateningly.
I chose my words carefully in my reply.
“I know you didn’t mean it that way.”
Because you didn’t. You never do. But it happens anyways. You are unaware of it, I think.
You’re unaware of how much you ask of me everyday.
Just by being you. Just by being us.
In every stinging word, you ask of me to ignore the hurt, because that’s easier than changing.
In asking me to bear the weight of who you are, and what you plan to do with yourself.
By asking me to be someone I’m not, to be someone that fits you.
“I barely ever ask you for anything.”
Not intentionally, lover, but in my life I’ve never felt so obligated.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.