i too wish i could pirouette
on the flames of fire;
dive straight into an ocean
without knowing how to float;
shoot into space
and breathe my own oxygen

but purple flowers grow in my lungs
and i cannot stop the weeds that come with them
oh, it drains and it hurts -
the blue leaks out of me
like a nosebleed stream
and i swallow them back in past my lips.

then i face the corners of my walls
for forty-two days,
for forty-two days without a party
where the world still whirls in wavelike motion
and i stand in a pool of blue

almost like sorcery
after forty-two days
the pads of my feet tread blue
all up my capillaries, up my veins
into the arteries they go -
and back to the red flowers

they are purple again

Please do not ask me
about why I cannot give,
or in what ways I feel unable
to start over.

I've told you before,
I've told you so many countless times,
that I cannot feel anymore,
and when I do,
it rests in a porous place in my head,
not my soul,
and I refuse
to pretend I could love another
fully,
so please,
do not ask me again.

I've told you before,
I cannot bring my heart to a pulse,
much less trust
anyone, not even myself,
with that responsibility.

I know better than to pretend
I am capable of romance,
and no sorts of pressures
will allow me to breathe easy at night;
I already have so much trouble
letting things go.

Truth is..
I miss who we used to be
From the way we used to talk
To the way you challenged me

Truth is..
I still miss you
I try to tell myself I'm over you
But we know that's not true...

y o u


y for yearning

seeing your face and waiting for you to turn
the warm air before your lips reach mine
the feeling which went to my head like old wine

the taste of mint and bitter-sweetness
like the smell of you wafting over me
the pressure of your body on top of me

once it was comforting
it made me strong
then suddenly suffocating

like breath to a flame
you built me higher
then blew me out

yearning

the burning heat in my chest
the feeling of two bodies
inches apart
the strain to eliminate any distance
till you're so close
like atoms colliding
molecules combining

how long until we became an element of our own

unstable and erratic
incredible in concept
but unattainable in context


o for open road

paths that keep winding
sun streams that come in blinding

signs we keep ignoring
pretending not to mind the final destination

just keep making right turns
until our favorite song ends

we couldn't see what was creeping up behind us

i guess that's why they call it a blind-spot


open road

driving so fast it feels like we're racing the sun

driving home
listening to our song alone

learning new ways to get past that old spot
paying attention to every sign
ignoring that song, when it finally comes on

  

u for undoing

unwinding the memories
unreeling the spool of time
the ball of yarn we built up
layers of knotty yellow and red
untying the tether
that kept my heart hanging
when you broke the chain
connecting whats yours to mine