I feel it in my fingertips
when you tell me how you worry.
I feel it most in my ring finger—
Isn’t that strange?
The sea in my ribcage tosses,
and your Navy boat of which the name I forget rocks upon it.
You are unsure if you’ll be coming home on time.

I watch the waves from the opposite coast,
making note of how tall they are,
how dark,
and suddenly I am in them
as they are within me.
They beat against the undersides of my skin,
so hard that I pray
for the first time in ten years,
asking God to watch over us,
to bless this gorgeous thing we have.

just as you leave me
new people come to my life
i am not losing

man is not the word
i would use to describe you
i realize that now

sometimes i wonder

what it would be like

if we were still together

and it feels like a dream

not a nightmare

there are three things i now know:

1. i know that moving makes me feel like i’m flying,
2. that being alone makes me feel like i'm on fire,
3. and that the hardest thing

is to accept

to let go.

perhaps, you were good for something.

there are nights
in which my body plays cage
the space we take up feels too much
everything numbs
and that feeling returns
the one i can only describe as burning
and we are merged
and we are divided
we are overly aware of our limbs
yet we cannot feel them at all
my body does not love me
she returns
making herself home in my belly and *******
there is something familiar about it
something comfortable
like sinking and floating at the same time
the cold and the dark and the deep
carrying me off to places unspeakable
embracing me
sealing me up as if i were a letter
and it an envelope
i am sent with no return address
and my heart sighs the song of my wonder
if this body will ever be mine

man in the bathroom
why are you staring at me
i’m meant to be here

i stuck the thought of you in a jewelry box
and threw it in the ocean
i didn’t even stay to watch it sink

i wanna be that
hit me hard
daredevil soul
feel his arms
trophy boy

i wanna be that
little taller
dream boat
punk rock
pretty boy

i wanna be that
inspiration
i know him
actor's heart
poet boy

i wanna be that
chin dusted
heart surgery
straight down
testosterone boy

i wanna be that boy
i wanna be me

but i can never be that boy
if it's true that boys don't cry

i miss the sadness
i miss the home that never was
the beautiful you never thought you were

where has your pretty gone
who’s wearing your flowered dress now
whose lips are your boyfriends kissing
who could’ve known this was to come

i miss your father’s pride
when you gave him a reason to be sober
now all you are is disappointment
another unlucky occurrence for him to sleep with on the couch
his favourite drinking buddy

i miss church
i miss the red the pastor turned you
the blood running to your holy cheeks
when the congregation applauded
at the fact that you would burn for this
that this secret would be the end of you
the ***** that came up in that bathroom
the god that frowned upon the smell

i miss the way boys used to look at you
when you were something to be desired
when you made others feel more than just confused
when you weren’t an inconvenience to love
you’d rather your innocence be stolen for being beautiful
than for being unwanted
i suppose you pick your poison

i miss the way you looked
every night you cried
the colour mascara makes when it meets blood
like drugstore lipstick
at least there was something gorgeous
something romantic about it
the way the moonlight made your bones stick out
it was something boys could fall in love with

pretty girl
why would you ruin yourself like this
happy girl
how couldn’t you see it for yourself
you were a trophy
your future said husband
it said children
it said the life we want for you
forget your own

you were not happy
but how can you learn to be now
that place that played safe haven
at least, was warm

you are not sure if you miss the sadness
you simply know
this world wants you to