If we could be
Anything

I'd hope that
One day

We would become
Like a pane of glass
held between

The waves of the ocean
And the clouds of the sky

You could taste the salt
And I could
Drown in the rain

We could be
As indefinable
As our translucency
As the sun set

And be as proud
As the night sky
Being able to say goodbye
To the blue
Blue
And spilling
Dark watercolors

Between the patches
Of green
With the underside of brown

There are two sides
To everyone
Every story
Every us
That makes us one

Let me see
The tide and the moon's reflection
Across the roaring ink
And I swear
To let you
Caress the lightning
Behind you

if i could choose to be guilty
of one thing
it would be
that i will love you
forever

but i'm innocent
and so sorry

unless forever
ended now

he plays a song for me
on his guitar
his fingers
and hands
moving
smoothly
effortlessly

sad eyes
a liar's
eyes

i look away
tear out the page
he wrote
'love until
death'
i should never
have given you
a pen

he thought
that starting over
would be
as easy as poetry

he lay awake
staring at the ceiling
for hours
and days
until the night
melted into the sun
igniting
the thousand
full
pages beside him

he still
felt the same

he wrote words that quarreled
with everyone else's

he wrote words
that were more than poetry
more than the falling sky

he wrote words
that were more
than anything
the All had read
or written

until he
himself
could think no more
until he couldn't read
or dream or breathe
smile or live
he couldn't even die

so he just wrote
and wept
at the saddest sun
until the sky
eventually broke
and all the grayness
it contained fell

and he was swept
away
by a billion incorrect defintions

You're weeping
As you play the music
You wrote
Beside the lake
In the dirt

Streams of water
Like rivers
Fall across your skin
Leaving fading scars
Like the notes
In the air

I can't decide
If you are heartbreaking
Or if it the music

I want to be awoken
By a dream
At two in the morning
And miss him
So hard
That my entire
Body aches

I want to see him
In the street
Plagued by illusions
Over and over
Until I start to lose my mind

I want to write him love letters
That I send
Or keep in a box
Always ending in
‘I love you’

I want to cry
At the sound of his voice
When he can’t stand being apart from me
And I want to cry again
When he hangs up
(He can’t bare to hear
The sound of my voice)

I want to ponder life
With
And without him
At the edge of a cliff
As I walk into the tide

I want to love him
Forever
And jump
When you touch me
In a way he used to

I want to write poems about him
And read all the letters he sent me
When we were happy
And when we were sad
And when he was angry
And try find the secret
That was screamed
At the both of us
That made everything
Not enough

I want to feel his feelings
Across a room
And leave because it hurts too much to stay

I want to learn
About him
And people
But mostly about me
When he’s gone

I want my heart to be broken
By a love
That really matters

if i could say goodbye again
i would
do it differently

i would
bow down in front of you
because now i know
so much
because of the heartbreak
you caused

i would kiss your hand
as the sun set
and the moon rose
and i would slip away
before you woke
(even though i was drawn to you
when you were asleep)

i would
still write you
that letter
you got after you swore
never to want me again
but i would have
written
'goodbye'
at the end
instead of letting the word
die on my lips
too weak to make it
onto the page

so that we could have never
said hello
again
so soon

warm fingers
tracing
the constellations
across my skin

hesitation
hangs in the space
between us

i stop
the words
from falling
while you stop
your hands
from pinning
my wrists above me

He sits, staring at the wall for hours at a time.
The paint is white, grey, cream, pink, green; peeling. Peeling in pieces, in chunks of time’s scrapings.
The way it peels reminds him of the time he scraped his knee against the raw pavement in the winter when he was seven. It reminds him of the scent of her fingers, held against his nose in the summer, after peeling the onions for their terrible dinners; she could never cook.
There is a cobweb, fine, dusty with greyness at the corner of the rain stained window, and he can see the muted silver moving from the wind the crack lets through. The sky is empty and full, slowly falling. The raindrops are letters; the raindrops are tears, making a sound against the windowpane, a sound against the roof- the sound he longs to hear, but cannot. There is only shuffling above him, the sound of water falling from the ceiling and into a metal bowl.
Tap, tap, tap.
The stirring of the ground above him would make him jealous, and if he could still feel jealousy, it would have been the reason for his insanity.
But he cannot.
And so he drowns in the darkness
Created by his mind
Created by his being.
He sits.
Staring at the wall.
Peeling.

he thinks that i have found you
when my eyes meet his

he thinks i have fallen in love with you
when i tell him
i'm falling

he thinks he meets your eyes
when he looks at himself
in the mirror
smiling
looking over his shoulder at me
pretending to be sleeping

he thinks i hold your hand
when i am holding his
and that you kiss it
in the moment he presses his lips
to my skin

how do i tell him
that he isn't you
the one with ink staining his fingertips
holding me
his books
torn
underlined paragraphs
falling apart
on my lap

how do i tell him
that the butterflies i have
when i see him
are for him
but not for you

how do i tell him
that his love
beautiful
is not mine
and the heart
he thinks
i hold
is the one i slipped back into his chest
while he was sleeping..

I want to capture
The sound of your voice
In my palms
And hold it to my ear
Whenever I feel alone

I want to hear you
The way I used to long
For the voice of the sea

I feel
As if i could bow down
At your feet

once upon a time
there was an I
who believed

that writers
wrote poems
and that words
were poetry

the I
would write
and write
and the words would drop
from the I's pen
onto crumbling paper
that was torn
for effect

and create lines
and lines
of empty poetry
that the I
would snort
when the I
was alone

one day
before the moon left
and the sun rose
and the I's eyes closed

the I discovered
that the real poem
was the person
across
the room

there were lights
hanging over the horizon
they were on a hill
but i couldn't see the hill
because of the mist
and the smoke
from a thousand cigarettes

it looked like the lights
were floating
and the idea
that they were
made me terrified

i am afraid
of the things
that hang in the air
like your words

i am waiting for you
and the cracks
between your fingers

at night
when i fall asleep
and dream
about anyone
but you

i feel your absence
and i feel my mind
moving to the space
you hold
over and over

i am waiting
for you

i found your voice
in a song
and you wrapped me
around your wrist

you place kisses
in the sky
and watch the ocean drown
the rest of the world
with its
salty love

rain down
on an entirety
and float away
on a cloud
and glimmer
on the dust
coating the chair
i can't bring myself
to sit on

Everyone
Used to say
That it was
More difficult
To forgive
Than forget

But
I have forgiven you
And now
I can’t forget you

You look at me
With eyes melting
The colour of dry grass
Golden
Pale
In the winter

Questions
Form
Evaporate like mist
From your lips

I see them moving
In hope
And sorrow
Coinciding with your soul
But I can’t
Say anything

i can't tell you
why i am afraid
only that i am

i can't tell you
why i miss you
only that i do

i can't tell you
how many times
i've awoken
crying
from dreams of you
only that i have

i can't tell you
of all of the wishes
i have made
i only that i always used to

i can't tell you
how much i love you
because if i do
then you should feel it too

I am a contradiction
But I am not

I am shadowed
By a cloud of mystery
My intentions
Are as clear as glass

My soul
Is captured and dark
My soul
Is pale and free

I believe in the things
That don't make sense
I don't believe in the things
That do

I find my heart
A tide of feelings
And then empty
At the next heart beat

I believe in love
And being ruined by its power
I doubt its existence
And demand happiness and freedom
In its stead

I want all the words
Rhyming with reason
The meanings
Echoed in my favourite words
Defy logic
Exclusively

I savour
The feeling of a shattered heart
Held against a stilling chest
The knowledge it brings
I demand
With avid recklessness
The happiness I remember
Before
After
It comes
Longing for the knowledge
Of my tear's absence

I am broken
I am not
I disagree with my soul

what chases us
so quickly
with hesitance
the way we tumble
recklessly
blindly
after our feather
dreams
it makes my heart ache
even more
watching your stormy eyes
watching me
partly closed
peering through the veil
of the smoke that tears our lungs
taking a sip
from the clear poison
manipulating
your mind
slurring your words
i don't understand what you are saying
even when you are silent

i don't talk about you
or ask about you

i don't want to hear
someone else saying your name
with a smile
or a frown

i don't want to hear
someone else telling me
what i only i
used to know

i don't want to hear
from someone else
that you're happy
though i hope you are

i don't want to hear
from someone else
that you're sad
though i hope you are
a little bit
too

i don't want to hear
your name
coming from my lips
or tumbling from my mind
but i still hear
my voice
after dreaming of you
and your eyes
whispering your name

if i had loved you
the way i was supposed to
would you have never ceased
to love me back?
asks the man
with tired eyes
with sad eyes
cracking at the sides
to the star
laden
falling
sky

if i had loved you
the way i was supposed to
would you have broken my heart
the way you were meant to?
asks the old lady
dry rose petals
falling from her eyes

he reaches to close the window
to the breeze
of the darkness
she reaches to close the window
against the night
and they never
find out

If I were to
Write about you
Every night
For one hundred and thirty three
Dark stained
Skies

Would all the stars align
(we can pretend
that we're fatalists
when the moon
reaches our fingertips)
and our eyes
To each others'
Simultaneously?

If I were to write about you
And your eyes and the way
Your smile forms
Would it stay that way
Forever?

If I were to write
Now
And Tomorrow
About the pattern
The sound of your voice
Makes
In my heart
Would I be able to stay alive
Indefinitely
(still)?

And if I were to write about you
Again and again
Until my fingertips
Were laden
And saturated
Black and blue
From bruises
And ink
Would you still
Want to kiss them?

ignite me
with your actions
apart
from me
watch me kneel
on the grayness

feel the heat
radiate off of me
i won't utter
one cry

is this bravery
will you forget me
in my silence
will you forget me
in my strength
passed off
as a man
with no voice

it isn't cowardice
that keeps me
silent
and still
it isn't the lack of bravery
to not return
the punch
from your fist
the slap from you palm
or the bullet
from your gun

so feel the heat
from the fire
feel the heat of my protest
smell the scent
of my burning flesh
it will taint the inside of your nose
the back of your throat
for your own eternity

feel my shadow
black
an ash
follow you
for the rest of your
falling life
don't think
that you will forget me

How many times
Do I have to tell you?

Angry
His eyes black
Like the ocean
Turned into ink

Words
Low
And measured
The type of tone
That makes me want to run

You are mine

You are wrong

Pale blue
Like the rain
In spring

Words
Soft
And low
Shakespeare
Says
It's an excellent thing
In a woman

I wish
Everyday
That he wasn't wrong
But he is
And so are you

I love you too much
To be yours

I lie on the green grass
Soft
Curling
Against my skin

Golden sunlight
Filtering
From the blue
Blue sky

Music
Mixing with the sound
Of a bird
Of an insect
Buzzing
Humming
I hear the echo
Of your hello
Of your goodbye
In my head
Still

I feel
The warmth
Of the sun
But if you forced my head
To the East
Forever
I would swear
That it had
Never existed
The way I can swear
That our love
Is an illision

Incessant
Thoughts of sorrow
Of longing
Buzzing
Through the grayness
Of my subconscious
I'm tired
Of starting to go
Crazy

what is it
he said to me
eyes plagued
by pale happiness
against an impending storm
a storm I couldn't let him see

I smiled
and held silence in my palm
a finger pressed to my lips
and watched him sadly
the way he would try to save me
from thoughts
no one could answer

I wonder where the wind took him
if he can still see me
ink pressed into my fingers
staining tears on full pages

what is it
he said to me
eyes plagued
by pale happiness
against an impending storm
a storm I couldn't let him see

I smiled
and held silence in my palm
a finger pressed to my lips
and watched him sadly
the way he would try to save me
from thoughts
no one could answer

I wonder where the wind took him
if he can still see me
ink pressed into my fingers
staining tears on full pages

there was a man
whose heart broke
as an echo of thunder
that fell across the sky

it was carried across the ocean
by a moving wind
racing to the warmth
of the sun
where she heard it
and fell in love with the sea
instead of the tears
he had wept