I've been drinking
melancholy
and chasing it down
with disappointment.

she walks lonely in the night
through the constant
waves of streetlight
(more
and then less)
lights a cigarette-
inhales.

and lets out a breath.

the darkness fills the gaps
she never could by herself.
her eyes are soft and weary
searching the swirls
in the atmosphere,
faintly she whispers
"what are you looking for?"

what are you
looking for?

I think I'm getting bad again
I'm thinking all or nothing again
I think my control is slipping again
I think I might not be able to heal again
I think I might do it all this time
So I can finally feel *nothing

My fingers shake as I grip my coffee mug
and your face comes to mind-
yesterday you told me you loved me
but I couldn't say anything.
My heart beat too fast and
words caught in my throat and
all I knew was that I had to get out of there.
I didn't used to have these sky high walls
around my heart,
but maybe that's why I do now.
And I'm sorry that I strive to keep myself
so closed-off,
that my veins show more color than my words.
I know you're infinitely frustrated with
how fiercely my eyes guard the secrets of my mind
because I'm frustrated too with
how afraid I am to put my mending heart
in someone else's hands.
You don't deserve to love a girl
whose stomach turns at the
thought of something permanent.
But I promise I'm trying
I'm trying
I'm trying
to say I love y-

i open up
they walk away

Darling I hope you understand
when I say you're as beautiful
and dark as the night
I mean you have stars in your eyes
and freedom in your heart.
I mean you hold the deepest secrets
and only speak the truth.
You embrace the lonely who
wander the streets of your soul
and show love to those
shut out by everyone else.
Even the broken bottles
in the corner of your mind
reflect the glow of the moon
to show someone the light.
There are those who revel
in the bright of day
but there are also those
who only find solace
in the black of night.

We used to be one and the same,
saw the world through
one set of eyes;
where my thoughts left off
yours picked up
before they even
left my mouth.
We would get high
on autumn nights
and laugh until we
blacked out,
our hair braiding together
on the pillow
until it was impossible
to tell yours from mine.
But as hard as we could laugh
harder we could fight;
we threw words
like they were knives
hoping to find home
buried between the
other's shoulder blades.
Now harsh intentions
run through our veins
and my blood churns
at the sight of your
face.
We traded matching smiles
for matching scars
and when you finally
shut the door
there was a pool
of blood
left on the floor.
It was impossible
to tell yours from mine.

Flash your light
through the window
that faces mine,
let's unfold in
morse code.
Tell me to meet
you at midnight
by the train tracks
that have been overgrown
with weeds
(pick them like flowers
and give them to me
anyway.)
Let's follow them
through the woods
to where they end in water
and while we dip our feet
throw me in
(I'll pretend to be surprised)
but only if you dive in
after me.
Kiss me in the water
with our clothes weighing
our bodies down like stones
but never sinking
our souls.
Love me
fully
passionately
purely

before I have
to go.

once i made my mother cry
and it broke my heart
but it was nowhere near as hard as
watching you fall apart
desperately and fully
from the passenger seat of your car
knowing i had just done the worst
thing you could imagine

I was so ready to leave this place
I only realized I loved after I'd
decided to go
but then you stared at me
like there was nothing you'd rather see
then you held me like you meant it,
like no one in my life had been honest
until that moment when you wrapped
your arms around me and I felt safe
for once
for once calm, content
then you wrestled me to the ground
and blew on my stomach like a kid
and I kicked and screamed and
laughed like I was
like I am
then you kissed me
and kissed me
and kissed me

now I don't know
if I can let go

I used to sing at the top of my lungs
and only think of colorful air
passing over my tongue
but ever since you left
every time I sing, I think of you.
You were taken from me too soon
without a chance to say a last
I-Love-You.
Sometimes it's a dull ache
but sometimes I'm doubled-over in pain
and it hits just when I think
I can finally see the sun.
Because how can the sun still shine
when its rays can't find you?
You'll never flounce through the
screen door again
on the way to your favorite
wooden bench
but you still
float in and out of my dreams
and it's such a bittersweet pleasure
to see you there.

I've always been careless.
About everything.
It's why I can't help the things that come out of my mouth.
How I broke the coffee maker
(again)
while I wasn't even using it.
Careless mistakes are the ones
I'll always regret the most.
Last night when I should've said stop
but I never think
Think, Erin, Think
unless it's too late.
On the drive home as I whispered
too soon too soon too soon too soon
I didn't see the other car
because I'm so ******* careless
every time.
Still, I never see it coming.

being beautiful got me to his bed
to the couch in his basement
to the old **** carpet that
had never been replaced.

being beautiful made me feel wanted
alive again

until another girl was more beautiful
on her back
on her knees.

being beautiful got me unanswered calls.
collapsing to the shower floor with a
hand over my mouth
his name in my mouth.

he taught me that i was beautiful,
he taught me that it meant nothing

it's ok to decide
you don't want me.
i won't keep tugging on
your sleeve to try to
make you love me.
but after all i have given,
after all we have shared,
i deserve to know
why.

Blue mountains rise on the horizon
looking like wistful wishes
and disregarded dreams-
If the purple peaks can
scrape the sun,
then surely so can I.

The white wallpaper
and laced curtains
smell like childhood
and pleasant memories,
and when the sun streams
through open windows
I close my eyes,
breathe in high hopes,
and exhale every worry
from the past six months.

In the valleys I gather
the love I left last summer
and tuck it away in my suitcase.
I'll pull it out on a
dreary Kansas day
to remind myself there's a place
that doesn't leave scars.

In my dreams I'm
running my fingers through
the mountain's trees
and in reality
I'm doing the same.

breaking
your
heart
broke
me

he told me I was a "på-person"
loosely translated to an on-person,
I was alive. And I could prove it.
yes, I'll leave this coffee shop to
go halfway across town for sushi
with the Danish boy I just met.
yes, I'll let you take me home
after and yes I'll ******* on
the first date.
yes, I'll spend the night instead of
studying for my final and yes I'll
go to class in last night's clothes.
yes, I'll chase you from club to club
in the middle of your ******
so we can ride the city bikes at 4am.
yes, I'll jump naked into the harbor
even though the water is frigid
and the sun is already rising.
yes yes yes

but no
I won't forget

I can be okay
when I don't think about it,
when I put a block in my mind
and push away any thought of you.
But more often than not
when I'm sitting on the couch
or in line at the grocery store
or any time I'm breathing,
I'm back with you
sitting on the roof of your shed
or standing outside your car
after our first kiss.
And when I watch everything
(people cars life)
go by, I only see you
running your fingers through your hair
looking at me from the corner of your eye
like it doesn't make my breath hitch
and my heart stop beating-
I've tried running,
I'll run and run and run
but somehow I always end up
running back to your hands
around my waist
my fingers balled up in your shirt
the taste of you in my mouth
your smell clouding my mind,
Until I stop and truth hits
like the freezing wind slicing my skin;
it's over.
I'll never have you again.

So I don't think.
I can be okay.

A girl walks
along the beach
looking out longingly
at the horizon.
She lays herself down
and wraps around in sand,
falling asleep thinking
of the sea.
The waves lap over her toes,
Over her knees.
She dreams of worlds
made of water
and skies shimmering green.
The tide covers her palms-
open and welcoming.
When the water tickles her chin,
she says one thing:
Please.
Salt burns her nose
when she tries to breathe,
but she could not imagine
anything more lovely.
Her last wish was granted-
she became the sea.

Life is shown in black and white-
like a still-life photograph
or ink on a sheet.
At least through the lens
of a camera you can't see
broken promises or
invisible tragedy.
So next time you see me
keep your eye on the window
and I'll try to move in time
to your shutter speed.
I'll scribble you a poem
on the bottom of the creek
of a love I've never felt
and people only in my dreams.
The wind can carry my words
away with the stream-
after all,
they never did mean anything
to me.

A girl of only seventeen,
who knew you could make
so many mistakes.
Was it that long ago?
Your dress was always white
and you could sleep without
worrying or waking yourself
from muttering "no, no, no,
I don't know this person
I've become."
What have you done?
You crashed your car for the second time,
careless/stupid/thoughtless/daft.
When's the last time you didn't make
your mother mad?
You loved too many boys
you didn't know
because falling into bed
is easier than getting up again.
You smoke like a new bad habit
and your best friend's a
soon-to-be addict;
you said you knew you had sinned
and yet you still refused to repent.
The verdict is in: it seems
the world would be a better place if
you weren't in it.

i tried floating once
i tried dripping honey and blooming flowers
i tried being as light as the wind
caressing softly, then leaving
like they want me to

i couldn't float
i taste like salt and soil
my body is turbulent, volatile
i am heavy and sink into the earth
but i am alive
that is good enough for me

You were never the type of guy
who would call me at the first flash of lightning
just to say "I wish I could hold you
every time it rained"
or better yet stand outside my window
getting drenched and demand I
join you;
in fact you weren't the type of guy
to call me at all,
and I should've known that.
I always did prefer the way
you laughed when it was clouded
with the haze of a dream
instead of the daze of your
fourth beer.
What can you say about a boy
who consumes your thoughts
but never your life?
That he's just like
everyone else.

A starless sky blinds me
in an empty ocean
drowning
The night is too cold
for warm hearts
or warm thoughts
Stagnant wind cuts through me
raw skin and cracked bones
uncovered
The perfect terrain for
feeling       vacant
                               lifeless
                                           *frozen

*******
for playing games and
throwing knives at my back
like there was a painted-on target
and you were trying to hit the center-
for changing who you were
every time the need arose,
like you could hide behind
excuses and artificial apologies-
and for pretending you were more
than just an empty vessel
consuming those around you
until they weren't useful anymore.
******* for
lying
betraying
hiding.
but mostly ******* for
all the memories that are ruined,
all the people you've tied
into your web,
all places and things that turned
black the instant you did,
and
all the wasted moments
I'll never get back.

I remember red walls,
Kansas and Arkansas,
my father’s voice
with a southern drawl
as he told me
he was moving on.

I remember
kicking autumn leaves
down empty streets,
back when
falling in love
came as easily
as breathing.
Another boy,
another state,
never knowing
I wouldn’t stay.

I count the years in
broken hearts and
old apartments,
break-ups
breakdowns
breaking promises
with myself.

They were all just
growing pains,
leaving stretch marks
of memories.
I trace them each
across my skin and
know I’d do it all
over again.

staring at the shattered glass
of my mom's wine
I dropped on the kitchen floor
thinking that deep red
looks good on white tile
and thinking maybe I deserve this,
in fact maybe I deserve to
lay on the scattered shards,
one piece of glass in the back
for lying to someone I love,
one in the thigh where he
kissed me while she was gone
for the night...
thinking I'm being eaten
inside out and it's only a matter
of time before something comes out
      about it.
twenty minutes later there's
wine on my socks and
the front of my shirt is wet,
with tears I guess,
but all I'm thinking is
guilty
guilty
guilty
I don't think
I can fix this.

I could write poetry about your body;
how it moves so fluently,
so adept in navigating this physical world,
in exploring my own body.
I could write poetry about your love.
I had the chance to feel its depth
and watched you share it readily,
in the ways that you know how.
I could write poetry about us
dancing in your living room, about us
walking through neighborhood streets
with espressos in hand, about us
wrestling on the couch until we’re both
on the floor in a heap of laughter.

But if I did
I’d have to write poetry about your frustration
when you feel as if you’ve been
giving and giving and giving
only to have me pull away.
If I did, I’d have to write poetry about
my disappointment when I try to
go deeper into your pain, to burrow myself
in your trauma and infuse it with love,
with acceptance - only to be shut out.
I’d have to write poetry about our wounds
that stand between us like the Berlin Wall.
Too often they become ammunition;
your unconscious comments
infused with judgement and
my anxious retreat into myself
inflict more wounds, more grief.
I’d have to write about how you make me feel
beautiful
invalidated
comfortable
shameful
supported
misunderstood
difficult
wrong
selfish
hard to love

You make me feel hard to love
and I can’t live that way.

when you lean down your eyes toward me
I can hear the whisperings of the universe
and when you swing down your arms toward me
I'm lifted into the wilderness
because your lips are wild
and they ravage
me
you found me fishing for ligaments
or maybe something to join my soul to my body
like another supplement
to feed my psyche

secretly
I'm waiting for day break
and the day you take
me

I can be content
with daydreams
because I love
the longing and
I'm addicted
to the distance,
suspense,
I prefer your
touch when your
fingers are ghosts and
your lips hold
whatever secrets
I want to be told

I can be content
with the
anticipation,
hallucination,
existent only in my
imagination

I can be content
because
this way it
never has
to end.

I don't love you
because I don't know you.
I don't know what you think,
I don't know what you do,
I don't know how your
voice sounds when I'm
the only one there to hear.
I only know the low and
husky tones I imagine when
I'm alone.
I don't know the lines
of your palms,
I don't know the exact color
of your eyes,
I don't know what your skin
feels like against mine,
though the sense has been
given some thought.
I can't love you
because you've become a stranger.
I can't love you
because you love someone else.
I can't love you-
but I can love the idea of you
that I hang on to
more than I'd like to admit.
And I shouldn't love you-
but sometimes I still think I do.

I hate love poems
but I don't know any other way
to tell you that you're the only person
who can coax an unguarded laugh
from the lowest pits of my abdomen.
I hate love poems
but when you let me store
my kisses in the crook of your neck
I feel like maybe I could
stay there with them.
I hate love poems
but I've spent too many nights
thinking of how flowers
turn their heads to listen
every time you laugh.
I hate love poems
but I can't stop listening to
the kind of music you like, the kind
that paints life as it really is
and doesn't always rhyme-
or flow.
I hate love poems
but when the sun skims its
fingers through your hair
I find it hard to breathe steady.
I hate love poems
but you know everything about me
and you haven't left yet
and I'm awfully close to getting attached.

I hate love poems
because you're not unlike anyone else,
you just fit a little better
in the contours of my heart,
and you're not the reason I live,
you just make it a little easier
to stay above water.

I hate love poems.
But I still write them about you.

I've been thinking a lot lately about death
and how I used to think it was lonely
but maybe it's more of a returning
than a leaving
and immortality would be the loneliest of all.
I've been thinking a lot lately about life
and how things aren't really supposed to turn out right
but we let hope get the better of us anyway.
I've been thinking a lot lately about you
and that look you gave me last November
when you told me this crumbling world
still had a promise of light
(and that's all I really needed to hear)
how you contain so much life
and I want to hold on to that a little while longer.

when I first saw you
I thought maybe
you were an angel
and the way you looked at me
gave me my own set of wings...
well you never showed me
gates of white
but lines of ******* did
look almost heavenly.
what's the harm in sin
if we'll just be forgiven again?
like I forgave you
again and again and again
(your lies went down as
smooth as the pills)
how was I to know
the space between you
and your sheets
wasn't the palace
I had been waiting for?
you left open your
closet door-
white feathers, broken
and mangled, strewn on the floor,
a hundred other angels who
had been here before.
angels don't cry
angels don't cry
but if you were ever an angel
you fell before I met you
and maybe now
I've fallen
too.

I know I like to act like I'm too good for that country ****
and I still refuse to wear cowboy boots or say "y'all",
but I had the time of my life with you in a town of
roughly 600 where the whole yard is a driveway
and dogs roam free.
The rides at the city fair may have been held
together with duct tape but they fulfilled all my
secret childhood dreams of going to a carnival
with the prettiest boy in town. You ate funnel cake
and I had a corn dog and I felt so in love.
At night we sat on the porch swing with our hands
barely touching. We listened to the crickets and cicadas
and watched your dog watch the light and shadows
alternate through the window.
In the morning we went to the river and I swung
on a rope swing for the first time. Your head bobbing
in the perfect blue-green water is something I'll never forget.
We followed your younger cousins behind the waterfall and
when they left we kissed and kissed and kissed.
I fell so much more in love with you.
I am so in love with you.
Now there are miles between us again but you're never far
from my mind, and know that I'll always remember that small town called Miller.

long nights
distract me with haunting thoughts
while panicked tears gather
in the folds of the sheet

(innocence has lost its luster-
been whittled down to the bone.
too soon after it's left
we want it back most of all)

the boy across the street
smokes a bowl to stop his screams
and the girl who lived down the road
took pills to make her breathing slow
and slow
to a residual stop.

there used to be a time
when we all ran to the park
in the middle of the night
before stars started scowling
and playgrounds told our secrets

now what once were children
have become broken hearts
and broken minds,
burnt cigarettes
and burnt fingertips,
fractured bones
and fractured people,
shattered glass
and
shattered souls.

sometimes I only feel at home
on empty streets

sometimes I pick up the phone
just to listen to the dial tone
(it sounds like the absence of you)

sometimes I fall asleep
hoping I wake up
and sometimes
hoping
that I don't

i needed to lose you to realize
i never needed you at all

Things are never easy for anyone,
and I know you've had more than
you're fair share of misfortune
but I've never heard you complain.
If everyone got what they deserved,
you would've grown up with
blue sky in your eyes
instead of dark clouds in your heart.
You didn't ask for your life
to be filled with death and desertion
but the universe isn't prone to
granting requests anyway.
I've never known anyone who
didn't run away from their problems
but you're still in that sorry old house
so maybe you're the first.
You may not let me in anymore
but you still have your own personal
doormat at the gates to the
back of my mind.
I wonder if you still compare yourself
to the peeling wallpaper or the
rusty hinges on the laundry room door.
I used to think you were crazy
for not being able to see the glint
in your eye that the world tried so hard
to beat out.
Whenever I see you around
I try to make sure it's still there.