I finally met her
She's every bated breath I hold when feeding friends
She's every gentle reminder amongst collegues
In the kindness I bring to myself
I've become her,
The woman you were supposed to be,

It was such
Fine stitching.
Beautiful scenes and
Vibrant colors and
Lovely textures and
Art.

Oh, art!

But then we just had to
Turn it around and see
Its tangled underbelly, its
Mistakes and messy messy messy
knots.
—YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO SEE THAT—
i’m sorry, please, i’m sorry.

Just-
just-
turn it over all we have to do is—
NO.

if i were to find my place in this world -
i’d rather it be on a mountain top,
or the bottom of the sea;
somewhere - where my silence is not a bother to me,
where the voices cannot travel to tell me i don’t belong -
or that i need a voice.
i’m not sure what i’ll do there, though.
but i think i know -
i’d bring a typewriter with me,
with no paper.
and i would punch away at its keys with my fingers -  
my poems, all my poems…
again,
and again,
and again…
for years, for ages
until the rhythms girdle into a symphony;
something only i could sing,
something only my heart would know,
something familiar.

and then i would cast it out into the darkness -  
where it belongs.

Sometimes I lack feeling
I see a memory in my head and say "sadness and I were never friends"
but the truth is
Sadness and I were lovers
Tangled in sheets together
Sadness and I had pillow talk and night time kisses
Sadness knew every inch of my body
Sadness knew how to stick around
Sadness had a way of saying my name so sweet
but Sadness doesn't really touch me now... or not how it used to... Sadness seems far away like an estranged lover leaving at the end of august
Sadness feels like it's behind a piece of glass either as painting held behind a museum display case
or
as the figure I see through the local coffee shop window
Sadness doesn't sink into bed with me anymore already undressed Sadness doesn't look deeply into my eyes and say "I'm yours forever anymore"
Sadness doesn't touch my skin and melt into me anymore
Sadness doesn't send me perfumed love letters with personalized stationary anymore
Sadness and I don't speak much anymore
So yes sadness and I were lovers
but were sadness and I ever really friends?

I am being drawn and quartered
By each expectation pulling away,
Tugging at my fragile sense
Of identity (if there ever was one)
Until suddenly, oh no! So suddenly
I am in pieces, and each person has only
A part of myself, that is all I can give—
I gave myself the death sentence, they’re
Only the horses that tear away my
Skin.

As they bolt away, I wonder
How far they will go until they
Realize
That I am no longer Whole.

I sit here sinking
Into the dirt,
Without feeling because I am on
The precipice of numbness,
A mere step away from screaming.

We're but two drunks laughing in the rain. Memphis is a city like any other.
The rain falls and slinks into the potholes. Whatever secrets that are hidden surface and shine with every drop that falls.

What's the fun of staying dry? The rain mixed with the sweat of our skin.
When you kiss me, I feel the beads of rain fall harder, my heart a puddle that catches every drop, caught in wet embrace. We may be drunk, me more so than you. Even if lightning slices through the clouds, and the rain begins to come down even harder.

What's the fun of staying dry? Every street leads somewhere, even if the sky tears itself open and the world becomes a blur. I am a drunk fool, laughing outside in the rain with you