I'd do anything to take up space
in her notebook.
Almost anything.
Close to anything.
Most positively not that, but close to that.
A wobbly fall or ignoring a crowd of people.
walking through a double door you’d normally
have no problem walking though.
Most definitely the kind of mistake
that leaves you paralyzed.
Unable to move, taste, or breathe freely.
Paralyzed & left between the pages
she comes back & visits often.
Pages I have to relive every time I see her face.
If she turns her notebook sideways the blue lines
become a jail cell.
If she turns her notebook long ways the blue lines
become a pair of blinds & I fall.
Shifting through the pages until I hit the bottom.
I'd do anything to take up space
in her notebook.
Almost anything.
Close to anything.
Most positively not that, but close to that.
Unless she adds caution tape to the elevator shaft
Of the next skyscraper she draws.
Or maybe I'll just take the stairs

To the lush daisy gardens, I go
The farthest place from you that I know
My freedom was what I chose
Shortly after, your heart froze
My fault for not giving you a clearer sign
But all my displays to you were benign
So, alone I searched for the beams of my mind
But its collapsed architecture was all I could find
Immense guilt because of a simple truth
The sense of our doomed future I ignored in my youth
But life and love are meant to be lived
Freed my sense to be gone with the wind
My annoyance and displeasure would spew
Every waking second and whenever you'd call
Because long before you ever boarded, I knew
That we wouldn't make it anywhere at all

I fit most comfortably
in your hand
Yet you drop me & bounce
me around.
When I fall I have every
intention of landing back
in your hand
But when I bounce back up
I fly in every direction
Except there.
I bounce & I bounce
Until I have no choice
But to lay motionless on the ground.
Still full of life
Still full of excitement.
Until you decide you'd like to play
with me again.
I fit most comfortably
in your hand
Yet you drop me & never pick me
back up

i remember all the dates, of when i starting liking you, when i loved you, when i was in love with you, the day you kissed me, the day you grabbed my hand, the day you surprised me

i guess i should start to remember the days i fell out of love, the days i wished youd kiss me and you didnt, the days all i needed was your hand and mine and you refused, the weeks you couldnt spare a moment of your time for me

i am not sure the love will fade, but i know it no longer envelopes me, you no longer make me feel safe, wanted, and cared for

how could i continue to be in love with you when i am not even sure you care about me, or want to talk to me, you make no effort for me

i guess there is no problem staying after falling out of love, as you were never in love anyway

nothing i do will you bring back;

not the shoebox of purple hyacinths
watered by the i love you's
i still wanted to say.

not the prose poetries i wrote you
whilst caught in a mania
in the restrooms of dying gas stations.

not the caving in of the see-through walls
mixed with static humming of the payphone calls.

not the pillow telegrams that smell like
bourbon and my mother's cigarettes;
darling, my bed has become a post office
of the letters i never had the chance to write
and of the things i never
had the chance to say.

and nothing i say will bring you back —
not even this poem, and i know that now;
i just don't know
how to live with that.

still, nothing will ever bring you back
and darling, watching you fall out of love
feels like the only thing i can do right now.

cigarettes still taste a little like our last kiss — like it's 5 am again and we were stuck in rusty rooftops, waiting for the break of dawn, or for the other to initiate the kiss. that being said, i always wished that 5 am's lasted longer, and that cigarettes burned longer, and that we kissed longer. but before we knew it, the sun had risen and there we were, ashing our cigarettes on the floor, kissing our last kiss. but here i am, darling — yours for the breaking; my cigarettes, yours for the taking — so kiss me again. break me again. leave me again.

say goodbye to me, darling. say goodbye, just once again.

And I think I’ve finally fallen out of love
But what’s interesting is
I still love him but
I am no longer in love with him