it was the frustration.
the frustration caused by
your arbitrary outbursts of anger,
whilst vomiting words of resentment and regret.
words that melted into my veins,
tarnishing my blood
with the ink that fueled my writers hand.

the dependency and obligations that i had to be yours,
and yours only.
the suffocation entrapped me
              (((inside of a cage)))
                       so small.
once i finally remembered,
"i could spread my wings."
i realized your latch couldn't hold me captive.

the salty tears that endlessly
stained my cheeks,
swelled my eyes,
and shortened my breath.
the emotions, the motions,
my body was speaking to me.
i was finally able to listen.

the intensity of emotions
without regard for
                           emotional intelligence.
it never made for a successful relationship,
but it sure as hell made for a good story.

our love ended at the cost of many cons,
but it came with a recipe for beautiful prose.

i am someone's story. in one person's tale, i am the girl who plays the role of the comic relief. the one who makes people laugh and smile, as well as providing humor. in one another person’s storyline, i am the main lead, bringing to life all of those desired characteristics. in another's eyes, i may be the wise sage who gives guidance at critical stages in their lives. however, when i stop to think about it, i find that i am the antagonist in someone else's plot. the bad guy, to be precise. and no matter how hard i try to change my ways, the reality is that i am who i am to them, and in certain situations, there is nothing i can do to change it. in their book of life, i am the arrogant evil villain.

but then you came. everything changed when you walked into my life out of nowhere. you appeared in my life like a shooting star and filled my heart with bliss. and i've never felt safer or vibrant than i do when i'm around you. not once in my life have i felt so alive. it seemed as if you were unveiling new layers of greatness to me with each passing moment. i've never seen that much gentleness in a lone soul before. in the shadows, you were gently carving out a space for yourself in my heart without me even realizing it.

you embraced my grief as if it were your own and showed me love as no one else ever could. everytime i felt like i was on the verge of falling, you stayed with me. when i was weak, you were my pillar of support. when i needed someone to weep on, you were there for me. because of your smile, i was able to make my existence on this planet worthwhile. for a long time, it seemed impossible to feel so connected to someone. however, it is quite simple to feel intertwined with you. i can't tell you how good it makes me feel. i've began to realize that i had no idea what it felt like to be truly loved until i met you.

now i'm trying to look for someone who makes me feel like
i don't deserve them.
like it took the power of all the celestial objects
for you to want me.
i'm tired of thinking i deserve things,
it's good to be reminded of my faults.
want to feel like i am the one girl in the crowd
you chose to come on stage and be by your side.
i want to say "i don't deserve you" until my voice stops working.
i don't want to deserve you but i want you to love my anyway.

the time when you are just seven
the time when you just know odd and even
the time when you don't breakeven
missing that year seven
where we are not mistaken
where we are not longing for affection
where issues are not getting worsen
can we begin again

Cold sheets
Restless mind
and a heavy chest
What a painful trio
That sings to a moonless night
What kind of sorrow could be
caught up in a loveless night?

Wet eyes spilling
on pillow billings
Bed swallowing the body whole
What emotion would ever make an adult coo
Like a baby calling from their lonely cot
What glee to make us all fools

will my hands ever forget the habit of clawing my own wounds for warmth? i lay my vulnerably human skin on sun-dried poems written to breathe, breathe, breathe in — breathe through january's oppressive cold.


i breathe out a mouthful of asphyxiated flowers

I’d give you the hour I had. Slipped down the front steps, into to my boots, “Mom, I’m going to James’ to catch up. Back in an hour,”
“Elvridge?”
“yeah”
“Oh, is that who’s here? Awe tell me how he is,” my mom smiled with warm sandbox concern as she waved out the window. You’ve always been welcome here.
“I think he is doing better he got a new job he likes, going to go hear more,”

We started like we always have, along the awkward edge of fragility, like I might just jump out before you get going too fast. You’re the tooth I have tied against my doorknob; it’ll take escaping the threads of my body to ever find the nerve to kick you clean out. I commit when the road gets quick underneath us. I have always played reluctant and barely convinced to come see you. One layer you thumb against your index; you make me feel like a rookie when I am the older one who knows better, who’s watching her body slouch into a fiddling girl.
We split 2 “****** joints,” no filter - a term you taught me just then, tapping it against my nose before lighting it between your lips. You decided on the cell phone lot along the airstrip; continued your scant refusal to answer my questions, ones about the text from the night before. Insisted the ****** ladies had swept you straight off your feet - no need to go back when you’re feeling so much better.  
Oh good - I will tell my mom that you are well and hear from you late later this week with your prayers to the subtle god of short-term solutions.

No planes took off but we hoped with our eyes pressed against a clear sky.
“Could be Oregon.”
“Yeah, it could be.”
“I’d pack the car tomorrow, you know that.”
“I’d be nice.” I breathed to close this prayer between us. I will meet you there when all else fails. You’d take me there tonight. I hate you so ******* much but I trek out every time you call to look at Oregon through your windshield because it would be nice. We’d stand a chance in Oregon. We could love each other well.
You wrap your hand around my thigh.
“Sorry, had to,” you smirk before retracting it quickly.
“You have a crooked idea of what’s necessary,” it’s gotten us into that backseat only twice over five years but, I have always let your hands test my resolve.
“You’re right. How’s the boyfriend?” you tease as you throw your arm over my seat and the car into reverse.
“Oh, please he’s not my boyfriend,” I dismiss you quickly and watch the scar sweat down the corner of your wry smile, warmly lit by fire between your teeth.
“I think it’s funny. You’ll call me when it’s over so what’s the difference.” I hate that you’re right.

It was a smooth red Mazda roll from the cell phone lot to the roads you came here for, the hidden highway stretches behind the airport. The blood left my chest as your knuckles went white against the transmission.
down shift
down shift
down shift
the darling terror of your acceleration swelled to breath in my lungs. You smile like you remember; I smile as if I don’t. The way the floor caved to meet me the day I got the call. The way you cried into the mirror when you finally woke up to the tempered glass scar that carves across your face. I’ve been the fool in you passenger seat more than I’ll ever admit. My mom would never let me leave the door if I told her the truth, that I only trust you driving this fast with me there. Flying around these wooded bends, I know if I ever want to keep you, I have to be your something to lose.
Don’t worry mom he wouldn’t **** us both.

The first time we did this was the first time after. I thought we were going to park and talk but you wept as we climbed to 200 on the highway. I shook and begged you to slow down.
You wished it had worked. You wished it had worked. I knew the EMT, she told me you wished she had not worked.

I don’t know what is different now but as the night whipped past the empty roads, I wanted to reach out my hands and touch time through the December sunroof, to kiss the creeping truth of scarcity like she was coming home. We are moving so fast through what we have left and oh my god I feel like I can breathe again. I so am afraid for the unsuspecting, praying that any late-night jogger or crossing deer is miles safe from our never stopping in time.
You are not. You love me like a religion, with enough faith to steer straight and trust the road ahead like you know that it will clear it if it’s meant to. But I know you. I know your nightmare isn’t the oak tree you met on this road months ago.
You won’t **** your wrist this time
but if the tires slipped on the melting snow
and we both fly to Oregon through your windshield,
you pray you’re not the only one this time,
begging not to come home.

We're moving house— he takes you a-
Part, piece by piece, picking, pulling, long thin
Steel supports from your joints. He holds you together,
          unforgiving tenderness in steel arms as you crumple into a
          pile of wood.

It's done— he waves a *****-
Driver, drilling in reverse, you watch him work
Metal out from your bones, skeleton  scattering limbs about the
          floor, which he meticulously collects and arranges, good as
          new, unassembled.

Thanks for the help, you've been— it's alright, see you soon.
Next time, I'll take the bed.

We're moving house— you are driven a-
Round, missing a turn, new place, unfamiliar
Sights you do not see, your eyes on the frame in the back (of
          your mind) as the van stops and your skeleton is
          unloaded onto a trolley.

It's done— you pay a hundred in two fif-
Ties, broken like the bed tugged through the new
Doorway and left in the living room, with the parts laid out
          neatly beside on cold marble, readied for examination and
          elimination, remnants

          of a time past—

When can you collect your stu— next week at the earliest,
One evening, Wednesday. I'll bring a van.

I have cried over many muted memories;
agonized over my failings,
watching time pass through a foggy lens.

I thought the wisdom was worth the wait,
the view must be most beautiful at the end.

But when I look at your face,
filled with bright laughter,
your eyes speckled with joy,
I think, Why not laugh this time?
Just once more?

I'll let myself laugh,
carefully at first,
then to you, my voice lets go.

This must be what I was waiting for;
your face filling with a smile,
this ease, this noise.