"She was as
slender as
a weeping willow"
maybe that's because
she was a rain
forest
every much as in
danger
and
covered in
dew drops
as the
***** of
Brazil
and the
basin of
my ******
delta

"I want to climb
mountains someday"

so I led him uphill
to a field of tangerine tulips
strung against cupid's bow

he left his backpack
for the Appalachian trail

too heavy to carry
as he claimed the top of me
for his own land

it doesn't make sense
how 160 lbs
still leaves me feeling empty

Connecting the dots
A to B
became an interstellar travel cost
burnt iris to inky pupil
take a dip
south for the winter

tantric spiderwebs
threads of creation, silver lining
no train of thought
off the rails
envious of the golden fleece
yellow felt
painted with sad sunshine
sweating from torn tear duct
weeping with every poor pore

Pour me
glass for one
liquids keep you in place
all the mobility of the seven seas
for one cylindrical cathedral of
plastic and dishwasher age

between my teeth (no cigarette)
down my back (nails on a chalkboard)
back to bed
I'll clean up the blood in the morning

Names of affection and endearment tenderize couples with their prophecy of a life so sweet  oozes crystals of sucrose. I hope you've all brought the quintessential insulin for this ****** malady.
Baby girl, sweetheart. Who can say that to you, honeydew? He lies next to you and into your ears at night, whispers spoken in the silence of thoughts in the gradient dark.
I was given a name. It's on a certificate. I can show you. "Babe, it's okay."
"Why didn't you answer me?"
"... Huh? What? Sorry, Mom, I haven't really heard that name lately."
I had to write every day. 12 years. More. Circumventing the pale blue dashes of thin elementary parchment.
My goal at the end of first grade was to "not have loops in my d's."
And how can that be, Dear?
Avoidance is the opposite of absence, in which the avoidness is attentive and absence not able to produce a **** to give, the tattered red rag persisting to grow fonder.
An 'S is the downfall of all. mine. Yours.
"I'm so glad your mine <3"
Why am I indentured to you, only when I walk through the kitchen, can't standing to be barefoot because then only one last peg of the possessed woman chain is needed.
Not that there aren't more levels. Danti mentors. Heat lightning, electrocution- are you feeling the chemistry?
I was given skin.
Porcelain. A marble counter top. Albino creatures suffer for their melanlin-less beauty.
Is pain.
Why are purple flowers blossoming on my body that was once a temple in a garden?
My body is Detroit. Spray paint in the form of a Kaleidescapic, mountainous macabre- knuckle
avalanche going down the 90 degree angle that just isn't right but I can't call it obtuse.
I have gang signs littered across the human vessel, spotty and an embarrased brown covered by a collar, and green, yellow and maroon covered by sunglasses.
Love is not possession in the way abuse is not love.
Both own you. Sailing, he's steering. my cruise is on the Slave Trade Triangle route.
You never asked me to get your name tattooed on the past 18 years of dermis cut, shaved, kissed, caressed, burnt and brown.
That didn't stop you from placing yourself all over me, every blooming tulip as a penny for my thoughts stored on your test's word bank.
"Good" is only "not good enough"
mint condition only makes me green.

Embrace differs from suffocation
as love differs from hate
in the sense that
your passion of Christ
swings one way
but your compass rose
blooms in both yards

I’d never plant flowers by you.
Comparisons of beauty
pul-chrit-ud-i-n-ous
soil the soil
mark the territory
dog **** couldn’t save you

Bound by situation
a sad plight
out of my hands
not large enough to
cup a sufficient sip
water from the well
I couldn’t fall down

I’ll break the mug
shattered until shards
replace the linoleum floor
walking on eggshells
has never been so easy

I’ve grown far too large for the other half
of our once-shared trundle bed
the drawer, open every night
has been shut
a store bought out by big money
and even bigger boys

If I look hard enough,
I can still spy the specks of glitter you left on my windowsill
one here, two a couple months later
not enough to lift me off the ground
not enough to call you back through my curtains

I didn’t want to go, it wasn’t me
I wasn’t the one who thought this would work
You said
You said you’d come back
“spring cleaning”
only emptied me

I cringe with every tick of the clock
and you’d throw it out the glass door just to watch time fly
but what they never told you was
time doesn’t have wonderful thoughts to think
it only has seconds to take, minutes to die

You’ve grown far too small to have your eyes look in mine
too often rimmed red, purple, gray
you stayed the same while the world changed
you stopped time
you couldn’t stop me

I want my arms to reach you
my heart couldn’t take it
if you cried and thrashed away,
how I know you would

so here my arms are
holding myself
as I fall apart
on a bed far too small
for a girl
for too broken
to be much more than
a clock with a cracked face
and shaking hands