Sitting at your dining table,
I crack the pepper onto the plate
until it's warm between my hands
We laugh at jokes only we could laugh at.
You ask me how I've been.
No one ever asks me that,
And I don't know what to say.

I can't tell you how much I love you,
But I can listen to you talk about love,
And I can tell you what I miss about it,
And you can watch my eyes flicker at the thought of it,
And you can tell me why you can't seem to have it,
And the whole time it's right there,
Warm,
Between our hands.

Missing someone is not a negative emotion. It should not be accompanied by pain. This is a sign that you have loved, been loved, and that's a special kind of grief.

If I cry all my tears
in my first few years,
can I spend the rest of my life
with dry cheeks?

If I sit and I think
of every single possible
terrible thing,
can I finally loosen my chest?

If I hug and I hold
until both of us turn blue,
will I finally get over
the loss of you?

"i am lonely
will anyone speak to me"

how pathetic, most people
won't care

what's missing
how can we feel complete
when all of us are up all night
searching
for this forbidden missing peace.

We knew each other when we were young.
The hairs between my eyebrows touched.
Your chin was bare, and cheeks were smooth,
unperturbed by decaying youth.

Staring at my hands while you
looked intently at my dry lips.
Impassioned glances have not held
the same innocence since we've hit
the stage ruled by expectation.

You cross my mind from time to time.
Where loneliness meets longing, and
I miss the way my stomach felt
when your hand reached for mine.

I often wonder where the years
took you or what they took from you.
I know they took a lot from me.
A decade's worth of lessons spelled
with joy, agony, suffering.

I escape to you on some dark nights
because our fantasy stays pure.
Reality has not tainted
the picture embalmed in my mind.

Oh template for my deep desires,
I hope we never meet again,
so that I can always hold dear
the memories I've made for us.

Some things are better kept as secrets,
but secrets won't get him hard.

Some  things are better kept private,
but that won't make him c*m.

If you decide to show him,
he won't call you the next morning.

If you choose to refuse,
he'll leave you that same night.

Either way once you're done,
you'll be left laying in a puddle
of what used to be part of you,
but is now just pleasure fuel
for him to use once he's done
with you.

I spent a lonely weekend near somebody’s countryside home. Some miles north of a big city. By a lake in the middle of nowhere. The fresh air and sunlight were suffocating. This “retreat” was anything but. I wanted to run away, so I went for a run; shouts, laughs, and songs of prayer echoing behind me.

My feet went faster. The heat was oppressive. Almost as oppressive as a room of people I didn’t want to know. Or who didn’t want to know me. I kicked up dirt, choked on my own steps, dripped sweat onto my lips.

I rounded the corner behind the cathedral. Its tall tower tipped away from me with distaste. I kept running, nonetheless. The path was surrounded by vibrant, newly-seeded grass. At least something here was born again. I felt a cramp in my side and considered slowing down.

In the distance, a young nun in a blue habit blended in with the sky in my line of sight. Accompanying her was a young monk in brown. They walked in synchrony as if they had just stepped out of the book of John. He spoke with his hands. She listened with her eyes. Their smiles were the first real ones I had seen all weekend.

They were peace and I was hell running right towards them. They shared their smiles when they passed, and I struggled to reciprocate. I’m sure I looked insane. That image was locked in my head. In all honesty, I was jealous. How could someone be so joyful, so at peace?

I hope he dreams of me tonight
because recently, he's the only
one that's been in mine.

The feeling in my chest
My trust in myself
My ambition
My pride
My desire to survive

you'll have to try harder than that
to shatter my will.
no words can ever be spoken
that will do more damage
than what you have already broken.

I'll hurt myself
before you get
the chance.

You hated that
I was such a pessimist.
I complained when
nothing was wrong.

Every time
I opened my heart
to burden you with
my worries, you
sighed with
exasperation.
Your eyes filled
with deep frustration.
Your uncaring words
said with scathing
resolution.

You told me you didn't want to be
with someone who made you feel
like when their sky was falling,
you had to be my Atlas.

Now, I swallow every word.

I know that every
word of worry,
every tear filled eye
will send us closer to
our doom.

Lying to you while
I'm lying in bed,
nightmare scenarios
dance in my head,
I realize loving you
is not enough,
and while you are
sleeping, dreaming
of a life without me,
I am screaming,
and falling,
blood on my knees.
I hurt you. I hurt you.
I didn't know when to
Stop.

When you slipped
away from me, I
had to hide my
fear.

But I knew, deep down,
the end was near.

It’s been years since
your lips last touched mine.
Since then, we’ve both housed
our tongues in a myriad of places.
So why did I dream of you last night -
or rather wake up panicked and afraid
from the thought of you with another.
You were never mine to begin with,
yet the immense relief that
overwhelmed my senses
when I realized that the
nightmare wasn’t real is
frightening.

Because it means that my heart
is still with you somehow.
It shouldn’t be.

You don't have to be perfect.
Not every second needs to be measured.
You don't need to know everything
do everything
be everything
for anyone.

You just need to show up
everyday
and show the world
what you're made of.

Don’t you think we’ll be in love forever?
It kills me when you say goodbye,
but it doesn’t hurt you like it hurts me,
please tell me why.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
D­id you really think we’d be in love forever?
You make it hard to say goodbye, but Darling,
I’m floating in the wind with the changing weather.
I won’t forget you ‘til the day I die.

am i on anyone's radar
does anyone remember
that i'm still here

If the tip of your nose freezes
on the walk home tonight,
embrace the pain.
Don't wish it away.

It just means that
your nerves still have endings
your skin is thick enough
your body isn't pretending

it still gives a f*.

Try to decide
how you want to ruin your life.
The deadline is tonight.

They're all watching
waiting
anticipating
your ultimate demise.

Don't prove them right.

When I think I'm alone
and I scream into the void
expecting the hollow earth
to swallow my words

You answer me.

I'll only believe you
if the voices in my head
let me.

He
lives in
my deepest
desires and
eats away at the
part of my brain that keeps
my heart safe from boys like him.
He's established permanence where
he's unwanted, but I let him in.

Don't make my head your home
My thoughts aren't deep enough
to keep both of us warm.

Don't make my skull your dwelling.
My memories aren't yours to manipulate;
I don't want to call you my happy place.

Stop tugging at my imagination.
You're teasing me with pleasing thoughts,
weaving beautiful "what-ifs" and "why-nots".

Don't you dare move into my mind.
The shelves are still full, left undusted
by the one I just left behind.

The melodic jingle is a violent reminder
that I am not where I am supposed to be.

The cacophony haunts the cul-de-sac;
whispering, whimpering, "you're temporary."

They signal a force that we can not see,
a warning we dismiss as background beauty.

I worry when they chime too loud,
that they may break -
fractured shards scatter across miles.

I worry in their silence,
that they may forget to warn me
that fragile frames fall down quickly.

But in their absence or their presence,
the persistent winds remain.

So it doesn't make a difference.
If I float away, I float away.

parking lots on suburban nights
we would congregate there after long shifts, held captive
as conversations and arm gestures played out like symphonies
secrets drifted past lips and simmered at the surface.

we ignored all the lines
there was no place I would have rather been.

when the moments of silence grew longer
like shadows that disappear with the sun
we marched back to our cars, one by one,
or my favorite,
two by two.

fingers finicking with the temperature controls,
my stomach crawls into my throat.
one second
your eyes flirt with the car door
the next
they’re teasing my lips.
                                                           ­                             
I learned a lot in that parking lot.

I turned myself inside out
every inch of me exposed
illuminated by orange street lamps.

in that car, you never dared to venture beyond those straight white lines,
you painted over them, again and again, thickening the divide
between your seat and mine.

maybe it was the way the street lamps reflected on my face
or the way the music made me feel, just sad enough
or the look on my face in the rear-view mirror
but when you ran out of paint
the line began to fade away
I faded with it.

I learned a lot about lips
whose I shouldn’t have kissed.

so why do I coat my lips, first with lipstick then with tears?
because I place my self-worth in the curves of my mouth.
I cover them up just to wring them back out.