I spent the day
humming the hymnals of spring rain
of rebirth as I washed up to my elbows in dirt
reminded of how unassuming a tangle of roots can be
and the way rosemary smells like a violin sounds
That being kissed by the soil, cradling a cheek with a swipe
is more fulfilling
than I’ll ever
be able
to articulate

human beings were made to be touched
softly
with such devotion and reverence
and maybe a little awe
tracing the littlest scrapes
scars & freckles
like the shrines of every idol
to worship at the throne of messy hair
and drums of heartbeats
synced to a choir I only hear
when they say my name

there is such a difference between laying the cutlery out on the table for everyone to see
and putting it back in the box, dropping it outside, and writing a ‘free sign’ — laying it down, and letting it go

feels lighter
free

I hated the set anyways

echo the sounds my heart makes
when the rain beats outside
humming along to a song I know not
but the bass line
and that it never
ends

and thank god for that

I don’t know what you call it
when you throw the glass
with a broom already in hand
maybe I just wanted to know
if it would make a sound
when I simply can’t.

we both were screaming
to pick up more speed
running from ourselves
in the ******* getaway car
hoping to crash

he played with my hair
as we talked
and I swear I could spend hours listening to him ramble on
like he isn’t the first person I peek around the corner to see his reactions

and they looked at me like I had another head
when I shrugged
because I don’t find that he speaks slow
he speaks
with intention, waltzing between heartbeats
or checking his steps
so I can catch my breath
in between the murmurs of mine

rattling in your brain
god the guilt
it really does go for your stomach
and you sit there
in tears
on a random Thursday
because I can’t really be the worst person ever?
and as sobs rack
and half eaten boxes of Mike and Ike’s lay scattered
I start bleeding
oh right
hell hath returned

She asked me if I could see you one more time, what would I do?
and I don't know if I would have done anything.
Other than move things around the house
to hear heavy footsteps
and the occasional grumble.
maybe put on a bit of AC/DC to see that head bobble
or even shift shoes around just to hear your frustration.
cause god would I love to hear you laugh

hear what you thought about today anyways
and exasperatedly sigh into the phone
and hang up with okays and call again 5 minutes later
cause only we got that it didn't matter

she asked me what I would do
and I probably would hug you
to remind you are not alone

before winding down with a scotch
talking into the wee hours
to hear every single thought
and know why you set your tools that way

so I could keep it
and explain the same to my own kids
someday

he felt like springtime
and a cup of coffee
it was really bad coffee
but he always offered to make me some
and maybe that’s the best thing
budding friendships
in the springtime rain

few things are more finite
than the terror
whisperered across your cheek
telling you
‘you are not good enough’
and believing such a fallacy
could even be true

love when the colours start actually working together
and as she snuggles herself closer
maybe to protect
maybe to watch
and the easel unfolds
and songs are repeated
as the creative starts to come out of her shell

when whiskey sours sit empty
and oblivion starts to creep in
tucked along the strewn sheets
maybe you’ll taste me there

flipping through pages
wondering if I lost the time
wandering around
looking for mine

watching through windows
working at waiting
will he really see me?
would he even find
a whisper of me
along the wet gravel lines
willfully — agonizingly
waiting for me?

what I would give for one more goodbye

a game of pool, a little banter.

we could even pretend we’d never met before, not that we could convince anybody else.

I don’t think we’d get through one game though, not really.

I’d probably spill a drink
and someone would come up and tell you hello, eighty five different ways.

and we’d both remember, and wonder what we’re doing anyways.

Avoiding whispers in the dark

I don’t think we let a good love die.

It faded sure. but it didn’t die. It’s very much awake. Clawing at my bones,

but it wouldn’t be different ***.

because how could it be different when our conversations became nothing but comfortable silence. Neither of us could make it work anymore.

and we didn’t know why.

so I guess we just wait to suffocate a good love, and hopefully let it die.

I miss the wildflowers
when the forget-me-nots were in bloom
when I smiled more
and laughed often
writing of the ways I felt you etched on my skin
or jams and clementine

but the teardrops
wilted
shedding blue on the floor
the rain didn’t really stop
and the glass sits half empty by the couch
the jam didn’t pop right
and I sit a lot more

I miss the wildflowers
I hope they bloom once more

I remember the rage in your eyes
when I told you
about that late night
with tears in my eyes

you said it was my fault
and I thought it was mine

but I think
“you made that decision”
doesn’t feel the same
when she pulled me away
and asked me if I was okay

I remember the rage in your eyes
directed at me
but it wasn’t for me to find

missing a home you cannot visit
a place no longer yours
tenant openings start to show
as the weather changes

and some viewings could happen
or have

but the leaves still blow
out the door

and she sits empty
for all intended purposes

I want to lie

but really, I  miss that first year
the way you held me with adoration and curiousity
call me selfish but those moments
where you put everything into showing me how you felt
I miss the smiles we both held
when we didn’t know better

the laughter and kisses and god the innocence in it all

I revisit those days
like a loved book
stained and loved and torn
still a little warm from the last time I held it

pretending like those chapters
Were all those characters ever knew

sometimes I worry I’ll be forgotten
but then I realize
I am an amalgamation of all the people I’ve met
that I can’t not look at chop sticks without thinking of that sushi date
or peanut butter without thinking of his spoon
that I say bother because of my best friend
and can hear him ask me what’s next

and I no longer have to worry as much
because if I can hold as much of the many with some names that have lost their vowels
but still hold the feeling

I’ll be just fine

Being remembered in little moments
of laughter
and maybe even tears
till they are gone too

occasionally
(mostly in the dead of night)
i remember her telling me
—-
i could hear him shaking his head, because of all the things to do
taking shots in the final words
is really the best way to make sure she never opens that door
—-
so,  occasionally
I’m reminded of all the moments shots were taken
so I roll over again
maybe journal in a poem
and pretend
(occasionally)

he called me something pretty
as he slithered round my ankles
rattling along my bones
trying to constrict closer
and when I said that was too tight
well
he called me something not so pretty

it's the devils handiwork after all

some nights I wonder
in the space between the stars
and popcorn ceilings

if you are thinking of me

if we both reached out at the same time,
to roll over
and pretend
we don’t know
how right it felt

but I guess it doesn’t matter
at 2:39
as I remember the comfort
that seeped into my bones
the second I felt you lay down with me

but I guess it doesn’t matter
if you’re thinking of me
anyways

god were you made for me
I’ve heard that too many times
am I just to be passed around
till I break in someone’s hands?
a china doll
no longer in use

do you ever get sick of hearing
“I’ve never met anyone like you”
the way it rolls off their tongue
Like quarters in a roll
because
“I haven’t laughed like that with anyone in so long”
and I have to wonder
Why it feels no different to me
than an average
really no different
Tuesday

I want the echos of starlight to be captured in the lenses you chose to view the world in
I want the heartache of violet to hit you so profoundly you must ask
Why

I wish the beauty in the alphabet could crash along your deaf ears

and shake you like thunder

and as I moan, regarding perfect little deaths
his voice makes me cringe
and I’m transported back into that late november night where you just held me.

to realize on a cellular level my body was rejecting you

because I couldn’t do it for myself.

grief used to sound like it was a few sad days
like you wandered on the road, but knew where you were going

it took but a moment

Or it sounded that way.

But grief felt like nothing. or everything. It felt like a bubble encased the world, and continued on without you. There was no road, no wandering, no movement.

maybe just static.

and nothing else

but that’s not even true


because it was absolutely everything
a cacophony at the highest degree

but just with silence
and an empty seat

I used to be able to taste
your wonder

Between holding my bikini, cold beer, and hyper fixated on dives

I used to be able to taste your wonder
on the tip of my tongue

drunk on your smiles and perfected lies

I used to taste your wonder

but then
you stopped drinking
and I guess so did I

it’s that static sound
you know the one

when everything is quiet
but not quite

and the walls seem the same
but I can’t recall

whether it’s 2:36
or 11:41

right when I lost it all

I can’t seem to keep my socks on
you know
they move
wiggle down
and I have to
pick them up
why is it that’s tolerable for socks—
but for humans it’s not?

he said he wanted me in the worst way, and he really couldn't be more right
because he was willing to take an extra five seconds to make it seem like he cared
while I was craving connection
and we walked through some ways
to discover—— this way was the worst

please do not
leave me in cold sheets
where I can feel the rain pattering
bringing out the mourning in my bones
I do not want to hear it whisper across my palm
seeking its partner
no longer in reach

if I take anything
to my grave
whether it be shallow
or deep
let it be
that I was loved
the way I asked to be loved

crawl into the little tin with me
I’ll make space for you

actually I’m allergic to tin
that’s fine
I guess we’ll shudder in the freezing cold
together

I found my favourite jumpsuit
and i got a new shade of lipstick

doing my hair differently
in a way that makes me smile brighter

and I’ll entice a dance or two

who’ll let me be spun around
till I finally nail it

and I’ll buy them a drink — because they helped make me burn a little brighter

each day at a time

did you do it purposefully?

so that when women asked me if you actually took me on those first dates, I had to smile and say yes —

remembering the last week when we just sat in silence because if words were said we’d have to get off the phone.

or was that unintentional?

putting in your all and then breadcrumbing so I felt bad. And when you could see me withdrawing— you bring out extravagance.

So I couldn’t ask for a standard minimum.

But you wouldn’t do that, cause you’re the nice guy.

like she told me.

I can’t help but giggle
when you come across someone
who just doesn’t get you
and every other word
you both speak
gets lost in the cross wires
neither of your brains have the connection points to

she told me it’s just your brain
protecting itself

because it’s only good when you look back on it
but I can feel the way your fingers felt playing with my hair before tracing freckles in the sunshine

but tucked around the corner
like a child snickering about stealing the last chocolate bar

I can hear the whispers of arguments
of resentment and frustration

I know it’s protection

but it’s hard when perfection was replicated when there weren’t words or clothes to get in the way.

wrapped in sunshine and caressed by fantasies we both wanted to come true

I flipped through the pages
I sipped the good tea
I wandered the halls a bit more
just so they’ll see

I waited at the tables
I used the spoon
I gave them a good one

maybe then I’ll say goodbye

you were nothing you told me you’d be
but everything you showed me

and boy did I have my eyes closed

it’s the way a random song comes on
and I can feel the flicker of your hand
wrapping around my waist

Tucking a thumb into my jeans
an echo of a laugh
bouncing off the skin

leaving me
breathless with a button half undone
the wind taken away
with those echoes and grins

god I hate feeling again

it’s staring at the text
every day
but knowing they wouldn’t respond anyways

she isn't with me, and im going to do something about that now.

I miss the way your chest rose against my fingertips
Like an ocean beating across the shore.

The tide doesn’t come in, no more

it’s almost like the sea
knew
that I couldn’t tell
or even recall
the day you met me
was the same day
that all those dreams
were swept
to sea

I hate nights like now

when I can hear the sputter and puttering of the rain
as it goes about its way
and I am left
thinking back on many nights
where I was out immediately
against a heartbeat and grumble

feeling a safety I haven’t known since

I didn’t grasp

how painful reckless love would be

Until I looked up into the sky

simply— just wondering how I could call some pain beautiful

never wanting to feel it again

but sobbing for it anyways