Even in my dreams
We just run around
Being stupidly clever
And when you leave
I still turn around
Wearing a stupid grin
As if to say
To no one in particular,
So that's him -
Isn't he amazing?

Why is it always
the days when I miss you the most
that I return to find you
in the foulest of mads?
(I try to fix it,
Because of course I do,
Until I remember all the power songs
Telling me not to bother.)
This is how I learned to be alone.

Break the stale night -
You twinkle in and out of my life
Tasting like San Francisco.

I have learned to love the quiet moments
When it's just me,
Dragging my toes across the fitted sheet,
Petting one long, silky leg with the other,
Fingernails tracing familiar paths
Down naked roads
Longing to quench their thirst for life
And the things they can't touch.
With skin taut and tingly,
And core soft and warm like butter,
I am squirming with secrets unspilt,
Deeds undone,
And havoc unwrought,
Waiting for a magic word or touch
To come undone.

I recognize loneliness
in myself
as an indicator light:
something is in need of change.

By myself,
it means that I have things to learn,
and more time alone
is the only way to tease them out.
I am never lonely too long
by myself.

With others,
it is so much harder to diagnose.
It is deeper, darker, and lonelier
with others.

My ribcage:
Full, then hollow,
Snatches of memory,
then fear,
Press, snag, then release,
Like Breathing.
Heavy, ponderous breathing.