Dear future  boyfriend....
I will assume you will break my heart even before we speak.
And hold on to every word like it were the air that I breath.
I will ignore the good things that you do.
And search for every mistake meticulously.
I promise to never have faith in you and to always expect you to fail.
I promise to put you on a pedestal  that you'll fall off of
and to always go running to my friends the second you speak out agents me.
And when I do something wrong and you say something about it,
I promise to always find a way to blame it on you,
Dear future boyfriend I promise to drain you emotionally so that you cant ever find the strength to leave me,
And to always ,make you feel like you cant leave me alone.
Dear future boyfriend, I promise that when it ends ill make Facebook posts about it so that all my friends can see,
and so that they can all take part in a breakup that was largely to do with me ...
Dear future boyfriend, pleas.....don't be my future boyfriend

a folding table bearing Super-8’s
sits outside as we leave lunch

pressing viewfinder to your algaeic eye,
you aim it at the sky,

at the soles of your feet,

at the dishevelled seller

but never
at

me.

Your watermelon vine fingers
Caress my sunflower stalk spine.
We dig our trowel toes into the lome
Of my mattress,
Cover our shoulders in frost-evading fleece.
I hear your heart ripen under your skin.
I smell the heat inside your lungs
Growing and expanding in the August crisp.
You seed a whispered kiss on my lip.

You are planted inside me,
digging into me,
And I bind to your stem
With my peach flowered palm.
We bloom at the first ray of morning as
I weave deeper into your trellis arms.
Our breaths match the pull of the wind.
You touch your forehead to my breast,
Our stems heaving.

Here we grew our love.
Here we grew the foundation of our separation.

The grimy auto tech
bursts through the door
a quarter to six
straight to the fridge
opening the white door
pulling the yellow jug
out with force
the creamy liquid
clears grime from
the corner of his lips

Today it flows
golden locks
that shine as bright
as the golden sun
gently tucked behind my ear
softly blowing in the wind
it almost touches the small of my back
but only when my head leans gently behind me

It feels so good when you gently run your
fingers through the loose waves
falling apart as your fingers run through
trying to escape them

You give me
a small flower
to place behind my ear
just before you said goodbye

I saw two grown men cry this week.

heaving their bodies, weighted with wails

my father with guilt burrowed in his gut
live streams his tears asking anyone for
answers to fix his sick son

my lover wishing to be shattered into dust,
logging each passing thought in emails
parceled with regret

I carry them;
I bundle and swaddle and embrace

I light three matches for each of us,
the flame kissing my index finger

we are one

in the ember I hear

we have taken only one family vacation
I wanted to cut off my finger and send it to you
you promised to protect me

my father is martyred
my love is sleepless
these are my men

and although this week I have had
black thread weaved underneath my skin

and I have carved out my name in my stomach
with worry

and I have been swallowed whole by the memory of
my favourite small town in Long Island

he is black
he is in a drought
he is marred too

Concept: my body is made of gasoline. You're my spark my spark my spark. I am aflame and it feels so good to burn.

I love you in words
That don't quite understand
Its footing.

My love for you
Is just like loving
The parts of myself
That have forgotten the steps.

When love arrived,
I never appreciated the colour blue,
but now I only see the world
through blue eyes.

like he's an angel,
a majestic being who's flown down from the sky
to bring promises and good news.

She looks at him
with love in her eyes,
she can't take them off of him
because she's so in love with him.

She looks at him
begging to be noticed, to be loved, to be seen.
She looks at him,
but his eyes are on something else.

I want to fill your mouth with pennies

I’ll pull your intestines out with my teeth

your hands are cacti,
your eyes rolled backward
like your rolling papers over kush

I am a cricket,
you are a size 11 shoe

I am click bait for your insecurities:

“self-deprecating,
emotionally vulnerable Canadian
seeks love and fidelity”

am I enticing?

I sat at your window and waited
to see you come up the drive

I am fiction

at the lake where I spent my childhood
you pressed your cheek to the sand

as I held the hand of my 6-year-old self in the water

you left yourself in my mouth
and I am still picking out your remnants
from my teeth

I see no better solution

than to hack away at my joints

and mail them to you

with the note,

“I share this with you”