I sat before the screen, at the same time.
Your messages, I do not see.
I start to look for the old rhyme,
All this time, I was the blind.
Of July, when the country was a battlefield,
If I were dead, you wouldn't have cared.
Why? We were unaware of each other.
What has changed? Nothing, dear.

vhs flickers, tv static, i blink once
and my whole world has disappeared.
i lean into the feel of your hands that call
my body “home”, but they do not feel me:
tell me what you want.

i watch the men mingle with women; touch
sandwiched between skin and the slick and
for once i cannot breathe because
it suffocates me.

what is it like?
to be given so much that you must take?

like oil on canvas, a vivid depiction of a love
we shared in my fantasy; i’m chasing after
a passionate night
still haunted by a graphite shadow.

gray winter light & umbrella for the rain;
i sit in my disappointment because this coat is
much too thin, so i begin to wish
that it is warmer for me in someone else’s arms

so much to give yet no one to share with.
it’s a tragedy, i know— i know love is born in the flesh,
yet swallowed through our bodies intertwined,
sweat & the afterglow of our parting lips
long after we’ve kissed

when i hover, heat of yours melds to mine;
skin warm, replaced by the gentle grasp of
wishing i had been— then your irises are raking
through ink of a book. breaths bated, arms
brushing because finally you do not see me

i step out into the rain bare,
breathing in satisfaction,
touched only by the purity of rain.
i can’t help but to smile as i let
the gloom kiss my skin

Upon the midnight sky lies a bright star.
The gleam creating my perfect contour along
The marble headstone like a perfectly placed scar.
Meshing into the headstone, I felt like I belonged.

The strong stone resisting it's wear,
But my tears broke into the cracks
Making death's mark fill with air
As the elixir of life delved deep into evil's lair.

I longed for your hand to protrude from the darkness,
To graze the hollows of my face
The sweet poisonous aroma and paleness
Of decay makes me long for your embrace

Six feet under before your immaculate glass coffin,
Our bodies are under pressure; my kisses fading.
Thy lips growing whiter with rejection.
Ice piercing my hear, and affection degrading.

My skin fragile as porcelain and translucent with death.
My tears glistening in the darkness on your skin.
My blood reviving your wounds my dearest Annabeth.
My cries muffled by the punishment of sin.

I prayed for your breath to again leave shivers upon my neck.
But, I've killed you once before.
Now, my coffin has been made, and I laid to rest.

It seems i can't forget these thoughts,
So i work myself untill i am taut,
Untill not a single pondering is bought.
But still i stop then i am caught.
Caught in the thoughts, that cause me such wrought.
It seems i will never forget your denim shorts,
Or your hair, or the way we talked
for in my mind these things are caught ,
And no matter how hard i've fought,
I just can't forget these thoughts.

night bleeds indigo and gray, and
a california chill seeps deep into bone.
white hot spotlights melt through my joints
as I watch you through half-closed eyes,
ignoring the ache that creeps into
the chambers of my heart.

among strangers, only your face remains clear
while my vision dims like dying lightbulbs.
for a moment i forget my lines;
but i am not an actor.
then we share this golden-lit bus, you & i,
skin sticky with sweat & iced tea.

five steps between us feel like miles.
knees bump over gravel...
bump, bump, bump...
through cuts of moonlight and lonely cigarette trails,
i wish you'd turn my way.

and my tired eyes will wander the aisle
while the voices between us fade like old leather seats.
footsteps mark time passing
on this midnight bus ride.

shadows will dance under streetlights,
and the words i want to say catch in my throat
like dewdrops at the sound of your laugh.
spring feels distant now,
and still i'd wait for you.

brushing arms leave trails of fire,
hands running through tangled thoughts.
my body resides between Newport's shore and sea.
i remember a friend's words:

"what else can you do but admire from afar?"

days later;
missing the midnight bus ride back home.

Voltaic–that was the word to describe that feeling.
Everytime our eyes met,
The way your dimples appeared like little craters on the moon each time you smiled.
But it was never directed at me.
That wasn't possible.
You're as dazzling as a burning comet.
As striking as a solar flare.
I watched,
Starstruck.
Just a random satellite in your orbit.
One that mistook its own glow for your reflection.