And today,
I want to paint
dreams for you.
Dreams painted
between the gaps
of our fingers.
Sipid and Wild.

I didn’t ask to be assaulted with words
When you knew all too well that there was more than 15 bottles in my system
And my feet couldn’t find a way to walk a straight line.
“You only say ‘I love you’ when you’re drunk.”
I forced my drooping eyelids open to look at you
And I wanted to laugh.
It was past 2am on a Friday and I was lying down on my threadbare sofa
Your hands pushing a bucket towards me because you know me

You know me too well.
You know that on Thursdays the commute home was faster and the jeep would drop me off by the bar a street down from my cruddy apartment.
You know that I like this denim jacket you have because it has a pizza stitched onto it.
You know that my wallet is practically begging me to stop at the third shot but my heart won’t have any of it.
You know that no matter what, I will dance to Pussycat Dolls whenever they come on, even if I’m in the most contaminated restroom to exist.

But you don’t know
Of the way my head screams over the pounding of the music whenever you say her name.
Of the words that get stuck in my throat every single time you close the door behind you.
Of the times I wanted to know what it was like to have you near me when I wake up.
Of how I wanted to sing the cheesiest songs to you in the karaoke room.
Of how I closed my eyes in the presence of the night stars when I could hear how happy you were.

Sometimes my mind wanders to the thought of your lips on mine and your hands on my spine
But I remember that you said that she tasted like a fallen heaven
And I remember that I must taste like the loneliness of rain

You know that I fill in the gaps of my life with paint splatters in the colors of the sea
You know that there are tunes I will remember even when I’ve long forgotten the words
You know how my smile barely ever reaches my eyes
You know who I am.
Who am I anyways?
The sober girl who knows
That the only time I can hold your hand
Is when I get drunk enough to say “I love you”

So I say it again and again and again.
Because now you will laugh it off and say I’m drunk
Because you will forget about it the next day
Because when I’m sober
I can look at you with clear eyes and know
That you only say “I love you” when I’m drunk.

my words are capped. Over
with.
half-started sentences.
they just get cut
into somebody else.
they just get -
- -body else.

and i want to ------

Sometimes I wonder if you are actually just a text message away

Seven years ago, I knew you.

Present day, now I don't.

Gaps in time.

Never retrievable, unbelievable

nearly how much passes by.  


But here we are, so transfixed again.

Seven years later, and yet,

it doesn't seem to matter.

Feelings rise back like the sun rises in the east.

Simple, yet meaningful chatter.


We met in our youth,

whimsically and pure.

Two young souls, we lust;

in a splendidly serendipitous summer.


We met again without intention,

without mention of something greater: fate.

Memories of you wash over me, your name resurfaces.

Hypnotized by the pull, you reach out for me.


We truly met in adulthood,

filled with newfound awareness.

Two souls, we fell in love;

laughing about silly arbitrary things

like swiss miss hot chocolate,

bonobos, salad dressing and coated spinach. (I want whip)

Sharing stories of our crazy college days;

Together, getting caught with our clothes off,

to watching love birds in a courting ritual.

Recalling conversations - "what about a mastodon?"

through intense concentration.

Walking along the unsalted deep blue,

I wish we could have stood there forever,

side by side, hand in hand...


We couldn't of course, not pragmatic;

the bitter cold became problematic.

Gusts of frustrating winds, a hail of bullets.

Misty eyes and whirlwind romance.


I reached back too far, arched and overextended.

Agreements altered and amended.

Haunting words of imperfection,

and collection of unretrievable memories.


We met in our youth,

whimsically and pure.

Two souls, we lust;

Seven years, I'll see you later.

The dark spaces of the night sky
Leave gaps of light, yet I see
The darkness reach down
Between us, like a *****,
Leaving a hole
For entrance or escape.

There is this break in continuity,
Not a recess,
A lack of balance, a deficient area,
Like the hole in a hedge,
A military break,
A cavity in the denfense's alibi,
The distance between the lead runner
And the chasing pack.

I would like to believe
The opening is an intermission,
A respite from our intensity,
But the breach is a divide,
A rift of passage
Between two immoveable mountains
Where interludes move on
Between differences of attitude.