What I tell myself while
Asking,
Covering my tracks that
Show I'm suicidal,
The pretty lies that cover up
The cuts I caused myself.
Wanting to cease existing
To the point no one remembers my name.
Hate and Numb
but i'm fine.
Please I just need to talk
I say to the darkness, It ignores me. You ignore me.
You were Always
never
There.

it all occurs way too quickly,
moments flicker with every
little death, every time I fall asleep,
between shifts is an eternal rift,
gobbling down searing green numbers
that stare from  the oven,
as if whispering, "your times 'a coming,"
when I  next wake up
will I be forty-five?
will I even be alive--

So I slow mo time flow by
getting my mind blown,
each second feeling vital,
their veins pulsing with a solution,
an intangible answer,
I have only to ask
the right question...

These words are for you
They are the words you'll never know

Between these pages,
Whispers
The fated words I breathed
When I was certain you couldn't hear

Spattered ink
Preserved forever
To be devoured by one who wishes the words were theirs

You will read the pages
And think they are for another
You will never dream that
You could be the source
Of such wonder

I want you.
I do.
I want to sleep next to you.
I want to have morning coffee with you.
I want to tell you about the stupid things that happen during my day.
I want to cook dinner with you.
I want to shower the day off with you and stroke your hair as you relax before bed.
I want to talk deep into the night with my cheek resting in the supple skin where your neck meets your shoulder.
I want to kiss your bearded jaw line and fall asleep nestled against you; fit around you
where I belong.

His eyes, milk-pale, show more than a single place--
A zone regarded as nourishment,
Sip it.

Entranced by this flow of the frame,
She appears sensuous, like the wind,
A legend.

Together, a faultless rhythm:
Footnotes to silent memories.

265

Where Ships of Purple—gently toss—
On Seas of Daffodil—
Fantastic Sailors—mingle—
And then—the Wharf is still!