red zeroes,
circumscribed about
our sallow
wrists. yellowed
paper, we
circle our
mistakes and
fatal flaws
no erasers.
lemon eyes
pulp and
peel crammed
down our
throats. how
were we
to make
lemonade? four
american dollars
to our
names, it
means everything
it's worth
nothing. crowds
love the
tragic heroes,
but we
suffer our
own stories.

limestone cherub
on the grass, by the
busy sidewalk
hiding her eyes
from the passersby
years ago, gentle eyes
wide with wonder
looked for a savior
in strangers rushing past
while summer brought her
the scorching sun
pavement sizzled at her tiny feet
she looked on, delivering her
silent invitation through the fall
while winter brought her
accusing tongues, spitting
frosty hatred
she shivered, longing for the arid days
wrapping her arms tight around her legs
learning to close her eyes,
so she would not hope
for a warm home
learning not to hope
that she could ever stop the
changing of the seasons

when there is no one to speak to
i
scream at the stars
they don't understand but
they listen

if hell is personal,
i will spend eternity
swimming in a burning lake
of missed opportunities
and souls i did not save

i thought
somewhere deep inside,
you were an artist
but the red paint on your hands
was always blood

i dreamed of you last night
you were someone else
who loved me
i awoke a ship at sea
drifting aimlessly,
far from the shore
ignorant of the time or date
so long has it been since i gave notice to
the sunrise
or clouds
or stars.
i long for the shore,
yet here i am
in the middle of the ocean
i know not where you are
i sail because i have no other choice
i dream because i must

i drank you up
like boiling water,
dribbling over
the corners of my mouth
you were everywhere at once,
heat spreading through
my every limb,
sparking my nerves
with your cheshire grin.
we did not know what love was
how could you teach me what you did not know?
how could you convince me
when you did not love your own mother
that you loved me?
you showed me what love was not:
love is not ownership
love is not adrenaline
love is not ***
i still don't know what love is.