he is a warm sun on a lifetime of cloudy days,
I cover up to keep the cold out but he undresses my thoughts
he says he loves me
and i cant breathe,
i wonder if he knows that,
this act of kindness could near **** **** me,

he kisses me slowly like he's okay with waiting,
and he is tap tap tapping on my door
like we could be more
and we could be more

but he doesn't know i am breaking
the pieces of my heart lay broken
like broken pottery with too many missing pcs to put back together,

I tell him you love the idea of me,
a warm body to warm the sheets next to,
a hand to hold,
someone to look for in a crowd,
a person to belong to
that lust looks like love
until you get sick or hit with hardships,

he says it though,
over and over,
I am tempted to believe him,
why don't i believe him?
as he looks into my eyes
and tells me the wonders of this body  
that's changing
and becoming more like my home
he says he loves me,
holding me tight,
maybe he thinks its true,
maybe he means to manipulate,
maybe in the heat of a kiss given right,
he believes it,

i dont deny the body its wants ,
but i will judge this heart,

i map out intention ,
as I link love with his name,
practice perfection,
when he loves me just the same,

he says : i believe that its true.

i think that his beliefs are founded in his body and i cant allow myself that.

i say : if i fell in love with you, you aren't in the place to catch me if i fall.
and thats the nature of this body to fall hard.

07.26.1998
dear ashley,

you are beautiful, my fire fly,
i know you do not believe it now,
i know that this will be the year you are ordered to wear pants,
to feel the food you stuff into you,
and your parents will increasingly start to critique
all that you consume,
i know as things changed it was first about control,
then about coping, i know that now,
but how could you have known that it would become all consuming,
the need to feed,
like prey who bleeds,
you know the feeling of a sharks eating frenzy
im not writing you so that the burden you carry gains weight,

just to remind you that I love you,
all the parts of you that are growing and the things that are withering i pray that you hold on just a bit longer,
you see ,so much has happened since we last saw each other,
public school
private school
highschool
homeschool
private school
cyber school
university
hold on babe,
keep dancing in the rain,
bathe in sunlight like a beautiful blooming flower you are,
hold tight to your innocence,
know that you are enough,
that you can battle dragons and save prince charming,
know that you are strong,
that even as you battle your fears of
control,
of rejection,
inadequacy,
and displacement,
know that
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL STRONG COURAGEOUS SPIRITED SMART CREATIVE INTELLIGENT,
BUT MOST OF ALL
YOU ARE FOREVER LOVED
BY
YOUR FAMILY
YOUR FRIENDS
AND ME,
I know that you will have to make hard choices and the road to discovering who you are isn't going to be like the walks in the park that you and I both loved so much,
but babe you are capable and strong enough to handle the brick walls and speed bumps.
I love you,
Ashley Marie.

is it weird that you make me wanna do yoga to james vincent mcmorrow early in the morning,
sipping green tea and writing letters and paying off debts,
your my clean slate,
my favorite mate,
and i dont worry about the things that im not when you so clearly love all that i am,
i try to tell my mother about how well we fit ,
hip to hip,
chin to chest,
hand to hand,
but i cant gather up the broken pieces of our reflections fast enough,
its never enough,
always wanting more

he makes me feel like beyonce,
volumptous and wanted,
like he'd wanna be the blanket to hold all my curves.
and he takes control when im too nervous to even breathe,
and my backs to him but i dont feel the need to look behind me to see if he'll catch up because he... he's already there
he holds me tender,
and sometimes he grasps like his afraid id leave him, almost like i could slip through his arms.
i poke fun at the gentle men tendicies he attributes to his mum,

sometimes though i wonder if i can trust him
i wonder if he s real
and maybe im just used to the more rough around the edges, fake it till you can take it,  and when you got it drop it -love con artists that steal away moments of your life like bites
off your aorta
But you're smooth babe and rounded fitting into all my weird niches

MrRight or maybe now or later
Dear Mr.Right,

I think I understand now.

And I get it .

We sit waiting.
Seconds.minutes.hours. days.
For the someone in our life to complete us,

to wrap our wounds and mend our hearts.
To laugh at the jokes  we tell even when they aren’t funny. no especially when they aren’t funny.

To challenge us and to make us forget, but allow us the space to remember.

To know when we want to be held,

but don’t know how to ask,

a mate,

a lover,

a friend.

And we wait.

Believing and hoping they will come and rescues us from the tower,

to fight off the demons and the dragons of the mundane day to day life.

And to win our hand, for rescuing us.

And we sit and wait as we expect them to tear down the walls of our imprisonment whether mental or concrete,

as we become less,

we become dormant,

when we have been given the same tools and opportunities to tie up the bed sheets or cascade our hair down, to escape,

to be free, wasting away in the waiting

I want to warn you

I am not sitting on my bed waiting,

do not look for me in the kitchen making the pies to appease your hunger,

I am out collecting treasures,

and having adventures,

and making memories

with hook and finding my way with pirates,

and traipsing with sinners while believing in saints,

you wont find me with apple scented skin but maybe lemons,

or grass,

or the sea salt ocean

or dandelions,

because I am lying in the meadow looking up at the stars breathing in cold air,

and thinking of you

but you will not find me waiting for the world to be put back on its axis or ask atlas to put down his burden,

im not running away, but Im not waiting in a tower held high above life.

Ill be among the disciples and the hipsters, brushing off the mud of my jeans and rolling down hills with children,

kissing boo boos  and fighting my own demons.

And one day we’ll meet and I ll ask you where were you when I was waiting and maybe you will say looking for you. or maybe you’ll say I was waiting for you. And we’ll be happy to find each other.

I will not let life pass me by while i am waiting, but Ill put pieces of me in all my letters left to tell you of my adventures,

If you thought Id be less pirate more princess I’m sorry to say maybe it’s better this way. I am not dormantly waiting,I want too much for that, I  want to know me before I find you. I want to be single and appreciate the entire bed and not having to share, to look in the mirror and to know my own worth and beauty, and maybe these things will come later in life before or while you are around. I know not your name or the hour in which we’ll meet but tonight I’m thinking of you. Catch me of you can.

and my love for you was a song
but you carried out your version
like an eviction notice
somthing that would irrovokably alter your life purpose of coasting

with a smile,
a wink,
the rapt attention
I bestow,
I give love to strangers
people who don't ever catch my name, who dont stop long enough to
I give love to fantasy people cardboard cutouts who my be real in front of me but have no knowledge,
of my war,
the inner struggles  that cause ravage in my soul
ridden cage,
I give love to strangers people that wont remember,
that wont recall
the stretch of my smile or the thickness of my thighs
I give love to the mail man,
push it out over my hands, to blow kisses into his face
it wraps around his chin and climbs up the gap and sits on his cheeks,
rosy and stained,
I give love to the children being yelled at two cars behind me in the drive thru line,
I love you, I don't know why she's acting like this but boys one day youll know she loved you,
but she was broken and tired with excuses
I give love to the man who sits by me, rattling the table so badly with his shakes,
and the ever scent rolling off his clothes,
that smell like broken promises leading up to his broken home,
I love you,
I give love to the strangers rich or poor broken scattered collected gathered,
I give love to faceless people, the ones who fight overseas,
never knowing me,
I give love to strangers,
because I cant seem to use it on me.

because when I turn it to me,
the light burns the whispers screams,
the love too tight,
hugs too close,
kisses too intense,
love too much,
oil over water and blood,
lotion over bones,
its too hot for the cold

"i dont love you
                                                                                but i always will'

i scratch at bruises,
i press my flesh and
im still bleeding bruises
of blue and black and purple
and have come to find comfort and sorrows song
                            " I dont love you , I always will"

You were the words I couldn't say.
the words i still can't seem to manage,
and you knew them,
you could whisper them to me like pillow talk secrets,
pressed together tight between sighing information
but you are only one part of me,
the right atrium when what I really needed was the left.
you get me but your not what I need.

and i begin to resent that the notion,
that you'd say you were my best,
but your not,
you won't be,
you aren't.
Its not even vanity if I were to say that,
soberly,
The best of you is me.
time would tell you what others do not,
intentionality would broadcast the truth in the lies,
I don't expect roses,
in scripted jewelry,

just for you to think and intentionally remember me.
an aorta to your heart,
an elixir to allow you to breathe,
remember me.
when you reach for the next long legged cigarette,
with the the tattooed sleeve wrapped round his neck,

Remember me.
Because I do not forget you.

and we lay pressed together,
he tries to teach me the dialect
of butterfly kisses,
and being so close,
we are no longer a landscape of two mountains and valleys moving,
but we are one,
and its so warm and comforting to feel his weight as he weighs on me,
and he still needs to be closer,
wrapping compact muscles,
around my stumps for legs,
and he is sticky fingers, that bestow solemn pinky promises,
half attempted secret whispers yelled across the room,

he is a sweet sunrise,
when all you have ever known is the blistering loneliness of night.
He is not afraid to talk and to share his thoughts,
and there are moments, snapshots of my failing infrastructure,
that lashes out at his incessant nature, me willing him to stop.

He discusses my beauty with strangers and mid thought tells me that I am so very beautiful,
and when he says it I believe it.

he falls asleep like one who is proud to tell anyone listening he is 3 and a half he had to add.

i wish he were mine,
mine to keep,
mine to trully love,
but I'm just make believing playing wifey to families,
with no need,

but right now its just
you and me
and the me I am with you,
and in this moment i hold your small 3 year old hands in my hand,
and its enough to be.

I am hungry i think as i lock eyes with you
i tap my feet hoping your questions will be enough to spring forth the rhythm of a vibrant relationship
ask me how
care about the whys

and you do care for me
protectively

but i am struggling stubbornly with wanting to tell you how to love me
and the stubborn belief that i shouldnt have to tell you how

and this is the new chapter called the firsts
and i want you to be curious bout me
and jealous when you know
i want to tell you
but dont you see
youve got to be the one to ask me.

I want to bring it up
can we talk about it, like really,
till im ready to bring it all out,
I worry over the inconsistancies of my speech.

will I always be this broken?
will I always crave your touch late at night or early morning?
i watch the time crawl ,
and all i want to do is  crawl  back to you.

and im tired of waiting,
waiting for you to catch up
or get the hell out but your withdrawl could be the death of me
i wonder if this is me dying
me bruised and forever bleeding
here again im left blinded stumbling and crying.

i want to stop,
i dont know if i can,
take these hands that fetter me,
remove the chains around this neck,
unlock my lips,
you can be creative,
figure out the steps,

make war on my senses,
id rather leave (her)e senseless,
capture this,
moment,
stolen,
and bought,
this organic prepackaged heart,
pressed and used to be pressed and you used again.
but its different for you,
ive made it for you unshackle the weary,
bones help me shake them down,
lets dance over supposition of our innocence now,
innocence used as a guise to cover and uncover who we really are,
well... the we ... we are together,
chop it up spit it all out give them something to shout about,
i will the secrets you keep hold to hope
will make a promise,
never to consider the rope
of injustice,
a picket fence and 2.5 kids
make the promise for living

she says she isnt a good person,
and i wonder at her crimes,
thru the doors of my jail cell,
i wonder of her crimes,
she sits in the green grass head down,
unless people walk by,
and only does she lift her head up to sneak a glance at me,
and to stare down anyone looking.

she wraps her hair around her ear,
she has such little ears,
to small to let her in on my own fears,
and im crazy about her,
crazy with out her,
and im not sure she knows,
she'll quote me 7 years this Sunday,
and i see the way she looks at me,
another stray to love and pray for,
i wonder if she knows i claw at raw parts,
im forever biting the inside of my lip,
praying she wont see that im another sinking ship,
thrown around like forgotten luggage in a the sea of broken things
sinking,
i flay the parts of me that is to thick to conform and straighten out,
i wrap weights around my body,
so scared to float past the never ending stream of failed dreams,
i scratch,
i gnaw
i fester
i bleed out,
and anything i have left i give it to you,
anything good left i borrowed from you,
but how much can you take,
you are carrying me but im just dead weight.

Homeless love.
Tattered looks
Paper back books
Stolen moments of peace in a jungle of brick and motar
Stone and deep seeded money
We are the pennies of the society dropped and looked over spared a glance we are blighten a blight on a commericial society of prada bags
But we wear the tattered rags of humanity best left overlooked
Blaming it on the overlooked
They see us as they overcooked but  they come to us in need place your order,but dont give to us
Pack mauls to your desire your disgust pale only to your addictive desire.. but i dont live here im just white girl passing thru.

to say what i couldnt say,

what i couldnt say then,
just give me a moment
forgive me this stuttering heart,
and labored breath,
my hands they tremble,
but may my words strike true,
i am so into you,

and may my eyes lock yours,
to say what i couldnt say

i open these eyes
wide honesty and heart filled sincerty
i regard as i couldnt back then.
but its a slow death and im still breathing,
and yeah im breathing,
im breathing you in ,
warm summers and roses left forgotten,

have you forgetten the words that you have etched cross the travel ways of this wayward heart, forgiving and giving,
a poetic poison
of love leading
love leading me back to where we began.
to say what i couldnt say then,
i love you,
always and forever.

i am soft,
she is hard,
and i slip through
the edges of a broken heart.

soft and red,
shadows  on our skin,
and i forget that hate doesnt,
exist here,
just softness and hard,
of warmth and scattered sheets,
and you wrap your limbs around me and i want to hold you there,
long nails that meet short fingers,
pillowed lips,
that meet up with chapped,
blind eyes, and eyes that can only cry,
the forgotten and the left over,

in the moments between awake and sleep,
you caress my eyelids as i drift
wrapped in memories of you.

i stole it.
i want it.
i want to keep it.
you have a home in me.

I drop the words down,
can you reach them?
they spill up and over these chapped lips,
and I, I cannot control the flow,
I beg you make sense of me,
read between these lines,
makes sense of my hands,
my gestures give hints to you,
read my sweaty palms,
look at this jumble of propositions,
and agitated adjectives,
they used to read pig intestines,
to predict the fates.
It's not a mistake I promise you,
look at me a mess in a dress,
moving to fast to order these words,
to line up and make a sense.

I wish I could explain it
this sorrow.
To crawl inside the window and for oncenot
Look in but out.
And if Iput it to words could you find it
The why
The how
Reach inside this heart shaped well
Bring up the poison,
Just give me a moment

I feel it still
I feel you still.*

Carve out my insides.leave the white washed walls of my interior
Red.

and we are a broken generation,
I explain,
where the scars that mar our heart,
match the scars that mar our skin,
and we cut away at feelings,
feelings that make us unsatisfied,
with who we are,

and im raising up orphans,
when the home I know becomes an collection of strangers .

and I'm giving them water
but there is poison in this well.
and they are set on this desire to carve out more,
more time.
more space.
more love.
more energy.
more. more.more.

I'm taking a melon scraper to my insides,
trying to rid myself of baggage getting in the way of what you want,
and what I want for you.

I take the tags from the hook
I place it over my head it finds its spot
Right next to my beating heart,

When Iwake in the morning this
These tags the only link to your excistance,
But that can't be true,
That isn't true.

5 freckles across
And a few down,
I touch the scar like a dog ear ,
To mark history,
Like history Irepeat myself,
Mantras in my head pleading and repeating,
I circle  and dot things that have been eating me up
Hoping for the courage to finish true thought,
But the demons of fear that find me can't be bought,
And Ibegin  to play memories over and over,
Of times when you were here.

and I'm forever saying good bye,
and inventing new ways too,
and here you go again on your next big adventure,
saying your always safe,
but that's lying, your lying,
I can only guess what dangers stock you in the dark,
and the demons that plague you,
i dont know what plagues you,
you make them laugh,
im sure you do,

I'm inventing new ways to say goodbye,
and I just don't really want to do it this time.

and I sit you stand,
there's water racing down to the tile,
I wonder what the water gets to feel,
your dripping but you don't seem to mind,
you shudder and I look away,
I am afraid  to touch you,
I'm not sure I know how,
darkness cloaks the world outside,
but I still see you,
broken,
bruised,
bleeding,
you seem to shadow the things I hide,
and use this love you will,
but I don't breathe when you touch me,
I cant formulate thought,
I want to save you but I 'm drowning in emotion,
not enough for what you need,
you say,
nonchalantly,
"*******. m.e."
I tell you I haven't.
though I imagine she's a nice girl.
I avoid the command choosing to ignore your desire,
and squander  mine,
I don't know how to love you,
I just do,
why would you stay if it was in your power,
you opened a door,
I closed it, to afraid of the feelings that lurk,
on the edges of this fragile heart,
i keep you in the almost pile,
and maybe i was just your draft,
and under a starlit sanctuary,
with only hands to guides us maybe we too could be among,
the lost things.

"and you don't know what I look like,
when I'm not in love with you."

how true is that for me,
there are days I remember so clearly,
no dry eyes, wise guy,
but you and me i see what we were,
what I thought we'd become to be,
and other days I gaze out not understanding what it was that brought me there,
not understanding the who and was when I was with you,
how did i feel so complete when you were completely lacking,
im not talking about the things you warned me you were packing,
but what it was that ate at you,
dry bones,
and whiskey,
i don't know how you could have left me,
i supported the world you ran,
and i am just another atlas carrying around the boulder of a lost lover,
roll over.
turn over.
start over.
over and over,
these are the things that play strings on my heart beat,
and my hearts beating,
no thanks to you.
I'm left with mashed potato memories,
lines across my lips, of lies you left there for me.

my body a home best lived in.
babe, my  body is a home best lived in.
worn and weathered,
it sways,
dancing in the wind storms,
bowing at snow flakes that pile on,
I shudder, I moan,
like me this house is living,
it breathes hot air in the summer months,
takes purchase of the rain,
it takes whats given,
you mend,
I leak,
I shatter,
my boards squeak, protesting your arrival,
but you aren't put off by the walls i raise,
you fix my windows wipe the mist that streams,
you serenade me with your sorrows,
you lament I cave,
you know my crooks,
youve etched the crannies,
you drop the glass,
you carve out space,
you box up my insides,
making it a more convient display,
Is that what this is? Is that what Ive become?
A convenience store home,
in which you hope to barter,
with a smile or a touch with a slip of kindness,
an I.O.U. of commercialized grace,
If my love was a stream, you'd bottle it up and send it to another factory to be, another product,
of a good conquest,
I'm just another good conquest,
what have you gained?
o my... what have I lost?
what do I have left of me?
have you seen my broken pieces?

Hold my hand.
I'm not asking you,
hold my hand.
step back from the ledge you climbed up to,
take a breath,
hold my hand,
move back grab my fingers,
hold tight to my wrists,
grab at my elbows move past them
hug my waist
and i will keep you from falling the very least Ill you help you back up,
and like you,I  too  feel like falling,
late at night,
between the cold sheets and the corner room,
I scratch at the raw parts,
scars that I beg to heal,
I poke at the raw meat and the bruises,
I make believe and etch and sketch all in the same sequence,
but I offer this body,
worn and weathered,
I'll do my very best to shield you from the cold,
step back from the edge love,
I need you to see what you mean to me.

your love had limits.

your love,
wrapped in warmth,
soft socks,
long sweaters,
tea,
long chapters,
your love,
in degrees.

I fall deep in your love
in time with the seasons.

SPRING
brings
green tea and growth
between
the YOU
and the ME,
SUMMER
shines
and we heat up the sheets,
once used for mere sleep,
my fingers dance up your spin,
you give love to me every time,
but you don't know what you want
I know what I want.
I want you. I want you to be Mine.

and this is the FALL,
burnt orange,
crimson red,
life dying,
leaves falling,
Im constantly calling,
your name in the  littered streets cloaked in decay,
and the leaves their dying,
I am falling ,
over the edge,
over your edge,
down your walls,
I reach for your heart,
hearts beat,
beat.beat.
I listen to your feet pound the earth escaping sunsets, to sunrise,

And I am surprised after every time,
you pass on the Raggedy Ann,
and I boycott the bands you introduced me too,
though the melody already bleeds in me,
I feel the cold of winters fingers,
causing my hold on you to break,
my hold on truth to shatter,
it doesnt seem to matter
you ripped out my organs
and you are gone gone gone.

take.
it.



its all I have,
these words.
and I put these
words to paper,
but they are circling,
the garbage chute in my mind,
words I throw your way every time.

It was bonfires till the morning,
I wrapped up in the paleness of your skin,
and the embers darkening,
and camping in your backyard,
with you hands wrapped around me,
like you were falling,
but it wasn't you darling
I was the one falling,
into tenderness in sickness,
weakness attached to health,
and the regret of you existence,
married to the wealth of my emotions,
pressed tight between us,
was the seed of all my hope.

take it back.

and these are the pieces,
broken and un kept,
                                       * i am un kept*
splinters of a reflection,
of one I havent met yet,

and I dont know who I am,
I dont know where im going,

struggling on,
dancing to a tuneless song,
but I was the one to fall in love with the melody,
but I can't remember it's sound now.

i got lost playing hide in seek,
where are you now?

And I know the outcome of this,
I know how much it will hurt when I land,
Bruised and bleeding,

But I want to wrap my love around you,
Warm you up,
From the mind
down
And Iwant to get dressed in your insides,
The things you ve learned to hide,

Will you let me crawl inside your head space,
And hallow out a place so we me meet beside,
Your ribs to my chest ,

I dance for you my love,
Longing to do more then entertain,
Allow me to wake the dormant feelings
You promised once you'd never feel again.

Because you carve at my insides,
You cause world of warcraft to begin in my stomach,
While mere heart mumurs increase too a caterwaling of my senses till
I am bankrupt of all sound, left with mountains heaving to breathe

And Ido learn to breathe,
Longing to inhale the poetry you produce
In the wake of trails tattoed by spidery fingers,
That prove to be more poisonous then 1st thought,
Leaving me captured,

And I'm sorry but we haven't yet met,
I really wish we had met,

But lover to love
here is the reciepe for my disaster.

I come home to you like I meant too.
and I'm I meant too?
I sit my heart down for a chat,
but it's not listening,
I can't rationalize the feelings of my heart,
I can't turn to you and discuss the course,
and I am left lone dealing cards to the ghost of your love.

you carried me home,
again,
I am inebriated on the cheapest liqueur,
you've done this before,
you've held me,
and if we had to walk you made sure,
you walked on the outside
you know me,
and my tendency to conduct
traffic in the middle of the street,

if we drove,
you,
made patterns on my back,
smoothing out my dress,
or collecting all that I have taken off,
like a jaded version of Hansel and Gretel,
you are always picking up the pieces of the crumbs i dropped,
you forever in the friend zone,
and I am continually putting on and taking off,
creating intricate dances for strangers,

and you catch me when I fall,
I am forever falling,
wandering the woods looking for danger,
or maybe just another way out,
I speak to witches,
you pray to Jesus,
I used to call him mine.
and you hold my hand,
when I began another round,
of self infliction,
another bout of self destruction,
you stay my sword,
swords that nick my wrists,
that have found home in obscure location
but can be found in any provocation.

you stay my hands,
allowing me to yell and scream,
allowing me my anger,
you know it's just misplaced,
and I am just struggling to deal,

I recreate wounds that never showed up,
play house with the demons,
as they remind me I have been beaten,
with the words of an abuser,
I felt the tainted touch of emotional vice.

but you follow me,
lovingly,
consistently,
like a chain wrapped rigid around your heart,
and I feel in foggy delay,
so intoxicated with the ghosts of things that fester,
you are the only one who keeps me safe.

And I have loved you, even when it seemed like I didn't notice,
I know you hold my hair when porcelain tattoos my skin
and I am making love to tiles on the floor.

and with any and all parts of me that are good,
they have lived and survived because of you,
living in the wasteland you have become my sun.

your grace and love carry me,
though I am not as strong yet to live for them,

you have shown unmeasurable kindness,
to me,
and my knight to beat back my darkness,
I may not say it,
I should just say it,

*I love you.Forever and always.

and I am remade,
that's the beauty of us,
having never met,
before this moment,
and this moment lays out in front of me,
and I am as I want to be,

not so much as beautiful,
but put together,
and on time,
clean lines,
and calculated responses,
I am currently better than maybe you expected,
and I exceed my expectations of the me I  was before we met,
and I am glad,

I feel confident,
if only in this moment,
and I find peace in the projection of who I wanna be,
and  having just met you,
I find joy in knowing you haven't met my past,
because in such a small space of time,
I haven't failed you,
yet...

you wrap your hands
around my ever growing waistline,
yet I am beautiful,
you told me so,

or was that a lie,
and where do the truth and your lies separate or are they the same now,

do you know the honesty you lack,
and maybe i find that attractive,
do I?
how could I not know you were incapable of truth telling,
bi personality,
a hybrid disease of acquiescing all that you seem,
and I've believed you,

what does that say of me?

she whispers words I've read,
she sings them in my head,
she dangles truth and tells me lies,
and I dance for her after every time,

and we are okay,
because she says she's mine,
I sway,
she pines,
and we do this all the time,
she shakes me,
and I find her laugh can wake me,
just as every lie could break me,
and it's madness,
this sadness,
but she says it's
love,
but I don't know how to tell,
there are days I skim this hell,
and I wonder of another heaven,
where the sickness of your mind,
actually leaves you well,
this is my heaven,
it just happens to be mostly dark,
and only sometimes light.

but you make me feel
                                      
                                          BRIGHT.VISIBLE.WANTED.

I'VE NEVER BEEN WANTED.

*you call this love but I can't tell.

I carve at my insides,
hallow out this heart,
rearrange the lungs,
squish tubes,
and realign things that can't be removed,
and I do it willingly,
its you I do it for.

I scrape at my out sides,
I tear out things I have no use for,
at-least I think I don't,
I restart this heart,
over and over,
hoping to line up the rhythm of my life force with you,
and you give me scraps,
when I am hungry for the loaves,

you cause my attack on this life,

and I move things out,
to elicit a response from you,
to con you into conviction,
I do it for you,
I do it for me,

why don't you love me?
I hallowed out the chambers,
I've knocked down dividers,
unlocked the cabinets,
given you the keys to every arena,

but you have no knowledge of its use,
or maybe its you pretend,

they tell me to take it back,
that I give to much,
that I love to much,
to strongly,
to soon,

but to you its not enough.

**I'm I ever going to be enough?

this is where we danced,
me too afraid to touch,
you bursting to try,

and in a crowd of people I look for your hair,
set fire to your insides,
and I am forever attracted to the flame,

caught in the embrace of smoky lovers,
you cross your heart,
speaking empty promises,
bargaining for something to burn,
you set fire to your insides,
you want to be able to feel,
you scratch at the raw parts,
you hope to erase the pain,
but all you are is constantly bleeding,
not accepting the grace of my rain,

I set fire to me insides,
and I scratch at old wounds,
trying to heal,
I rub the raw parts,
and poke parts left damaged,
wondering when I'll be able to feel.

prelude
5 pages were blank the 6th written on...  
you wrote:                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                        *I love you.

You said that you didn't want to change are friendship
but you didn't think you could hide it anymore.
it was a summer night you held my hand,
you lead me to the tent you pitched in your back yard,
and i thought i could lay there, hidden in a tent with your arms wrapped around my waist,
but i wanted you to prove it,
maybe i just wanted to feel it,
you said, "ashley, breathe"
and your fingers found a way to cradle my head,
and to pull down the wall i peek through,
and your pink lips touched mine,
and i wonder sometimes if you would do it now,
how would i react or would i have set sail south
for you were always being kissed by the sun,
and I don't talk about it,
no body knows the places we traveled to,

And I find it here in the ashes,
as I’d follow your down to the earth,
I’d hear your breath, I feel the dirt,
and mosquito lands on me,
your lips met mine,
and I replay it over and over time.
And time is what I have given you.

i wanna tell someone about you,
the ghost of my summer girl,
always finds me sipping on the melancholy,
and dancing with the devils of chaos and confusion,

we don't talk.
we don't speak.
i wonder if you still seek for things you'd have to sneak,
in a tent in your own back yard.

i can't talk about you,
they haven't been around to listen,
but i still think of you.

And if we’d go back there and I couldn’t change this separation,
I know though the places I would have traveled,
I wear the skirts,
you fold the sheets,
and I miss the hands holding my waist.

you call it love and it’s become my torture.

You said you had something to tell me,
that verbally it was just to hard.
And I loved that you'd confide in me,
and allow me entrance into the world of you,

six pages folded up tight,
and I wanted to tear the open to see what dark secret you'd share with me.


5 pages were blank the 6th written on...  
you wrote:                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                        I love you.


And in that moment all I allowed myself to think,
was that you wanted ME.
Of all people you were content and filled with joy,
secure in loving me.
I reread that note over and over,
memorizing each dip in the paper.

it was a summer night you held my hand,
you lead me to the tent you pitched in your back yard,
and i thought i could lay there, hidden in a tent with your arms wrapped around my waist,
but i wanted you to prove it,
maybe i just wanted to feel it,
you said, "ashley, breathe"
and your fingers found a way to cradle my head,
and to pull down the wall i peek through,
and your pink lips touched mine,
and i wonder sometimes if you would do it now,
how would i react or would i have set sail south for you were always being kissed by the sun,
and I don't talk about it,
no body knows the places we traveled to,



I'm certain you never knew what love is
and you certainly didn't know how to love me.
Later I would voice the doubts and the regret,
but secretly want another chance with you,
you were my first kiss, haven't another since,
first relationship,
though you'd be hard pressed to call it that.
I haven't ever even dated.

You stole my innocence the moment,
I awoke to you sitting up in the bed we shared,
with you smoking,
a cigarette,

But you said you loved,
as a tool to manipulate,
not because it was true,
and I loved you as you needed but you wanted more,

she isn't in my life right now.
I made that decision long ago but her ghosts still chills me,
and I remember tents in backyards,
and stuttered breath like Morse code across your skin.

      
my ragged breath,
exhale and inhale,
things to remember
you slide closer,
and I am a frost princess,
you hold me with just a stare.
I dared you and not one to back down,
you rose to the challenge of,
taking my lips and melding them with yours,
and I am unaccustomed to the value you place,
and the reverence and gentleness you posses,
in one motion of your fingers
that dance across the freckles of my hand,

I don't want to feel this but your hands,
take purchase of my hips,
and my lips haven't been kissed before,
and I am addicted to the power you give me,
in just your gaze,
and you tell me you love me.

back before the kiss
before we started to hangout again,
since we left the gray and maroon lockers,
of a school we refused to be broken in.
I remember when.

maybe we met and I , I forgot.

I am unashamedly Ashley. At least that's what "hellopoetry" calls me. Tumblr calls me "vesperoflove", but if you really knew me you'd drop off the glitz and just call me "Ash".

And here we are sitting on the subway and something about you makes me want to open up. Maybe it's the way you smile or the wrinkles you get when you are trying not to. But I look into your eyes and you hold my gaze, and I like that. You aren't staring at me like I am worthless piece of trash nor have you look at me like I am a piece of ***, you are just looking into my eyes. I am flattered by the attention, I might stumble over words, and your interest might even cause me to blush. You ask to sit by me and I wave you in, and that's where this new chapter begins.

"Hi." I say working up the nerve to meet your gaze,and I blush, I am the abscence of your color and I stare down at my legs and as you rearrange yours to accommodate the length of your logs extensions of your long trunk, I note the contrast in appreciation.

And I get distracted by this, but you are asking me questions about my life and I try and dredge up silver lining in monotony of years.

    What have I done exciting?
    What do I hope to accomplish?
    Where do I see myself in the next five years?
    What do I want?
And that is only the tip of the Iceberg you have thrown in my lap.

Coming off as an host of a talk radio show, I ponder these illuminating thoughts.

And your probably not the first person to ask me these things, but right now its like I have never been truly asked.

I don't know why I haven't asked these things of myself.

But cargo doesn't ask or question. And maybe that's how I have been living my life.

Merely reacting to things that have happened in the past and in the present.

I would like to blame it on my poverty mindset. On the way I grew up. But then when does my accountability start.When do I get to make choices for me, and be held responsible.

At the age 18 when I can rent ****, buy stick de cancer?

What age do we become our own person, driven by our own desires?

But you aren't worried of the questions I haven't begun to ask and I like that.
I lean in closer hoping to gauge you reaction in your eyes.
I am known and you see me not as I am but what I could be and all the things I have yet to achieve do not mar your rose color glasses.

I find joy in the kindness of strangers and reprieve.

and I write them.
love letters to strangers,
I support the troops,
I organize a drive,
I make out letters to faceless people,
knowing not the strength of their smile,
but imagining the topography of their hearts,
of their hearts,
I pencil out conversations,
that don't matter,
in order that they know that they matter,
if only to me,

I compliment strangers,
I tip more then the bill,



and I am a face less white girl,
who seemingly has got her things in order,
see my left hand, I've hid my right.
and as they rationalize these random acts of kindness
the gestures,
that I want to matter,

I wonder if they think of me?

I write love letters to strangers,
because their easier to love,
then myself,
I write love letters to strangers,
because I 'm not willing to start one to me.

I know its coming before I feel it,
and I am left bruised,
and forever bleeding,

and wherever you touch,
is a mixture of fire and ice,
flaming pain
only to lead to numbing cold.

I map out the tender areas,
painted with black and blue,
and my fingers
they barely skim surface.

Closing me eyes,
shutting out thought,
feeling only pain.
But I take it,
because I still have use of my hands,
and my eyes haven't swollen shut,
it only gets worse,
when there is no feeling and all I am is cold.

And after every fall you
become my prince charming,

you dance me around in circles,
while my hips move under your control,
but they are just parking spots for your hands,
hands that won't stay there long.

It's in those moments,
I worry about the next time,
but those thoughts are fleeting ,
it's so much effort to get through them now.

and there are so many emotions,
plastered to these thoughts,
I can't even begin to unravel,
and it's a pity...

anger.
hurt.
pain.
sorrow.
rejection.
confusion.

and for every truth,
you sandwhiched it betwixt the lies.

It's circular this argument,
me against you,
me against the me with you,
me against the me with out you.
I am so hurt,
I am so angry,
I want to invent new words to balm this wound,
to invent them to curse you,

I want to twist the knife out of my back,
and put the words back into yours,

The complex and simple thing that love is you will never know,
you don't even  have a  clue.

Jade... your jaded,
and I'll erase you,
erase your uncertainties in all your lies,

And all you were and ever going to be is part of the past,
destined to die in the dust of someone who has forgotten you,
but you will never forget.

And there are days where that's all you are,
but i don't wish that on you.
I just wish you gone.
After all that's what you've always been good at.

and that's the place,
where I go,
the mind nestles before it goes to bed,
and I struggle against your hold even now,

i show my neck

I trace the scars,
tokens,
of affection left,
for me.

And I wonder if you've,
if you were ever loved,

and I feel the brush of constant disappointment,
that lap over your soul,

and you'd erase it if you could get your weapon to reach,
and you talk with demons,
while they haunt me in my sleep.

and everyday I try to draw,
strength from those who prove to be strong,
and the memories a litany,
an unsung song.

I can't write it down,
I can't seem to spell it out

and we don't talk about it,
but I want to.

and there's the etch a sketch again,
dragging the metal 'round her wrists,
just to feel,
and heroically I fight to be her champion,
waging wars against the depression of her breaths,
and I remember her pain,
it hurt more then mine,
and I stood beside her
and we paired mutilated aortas,
with decaying hearts,
and I thought this would be different,
that some how the story would change,
because it was us,
us against them,
us against the lust,
and all we wanted was time to be together,
time bleeds love into,
us against crumbling trust,
us against us.

I thought this story was different but in the end,
we speak not,
we trust not,
and we forget and forgive not,
and all we bring to the table of life is left rotten,
desires and dreams untended,
all we are and all we are not is shadows now,
and we are stuck waiting for a train that may never come.

and stars dance across your limbs,
and I trace the patterns on your skin,
jumping from brown star to brown star,
I begin to wonder who you really are,
and that's when I travel north,
you make time for me to breathe and
I continue on,
and I see your eyes,
planets of your soul,
and all the regions of your heart,
displayed on the big orbs,
that are framed by the loveliness of you face.

I love how you go after the things you want.
2.I love how you strive to be better person,daughter,sister ,friend.
3.I love how you don’t allow fear of the unknown to go after your dreams.
4.I love how I don’t have to explain myself, but you listen when I feel like I need to.
5.I love how you are the most non-judgmental person I know.
6.I love how you can quote historical facts without provocation.
7.I love how you love music, and you get it when I love it too.
8.I love how research and how detailed you can be when you plan.
9.I love how dedicated you are to doing well in school.
10.I love how you remember things, in such a detailed way, in a way I never could.
11.I love how much you care about your family.
12.I love how you respect life and try to cherish every moment.
13.I love how you love me, even when I don’t.
14.I love your cute little hands and your little fingers.
15. I love how you can type so fast. I've always envied that.
16 I love how you cut through verbal garbage, especially when its mine.
17.I love your quiet wisdom. It helps me in life's storms.
18.I love how even when you're right, you stay humble. You never say I told you so.
19. I love your humbleness, even when there is so much you could be proud for.
20.I love your offerings. How whenever you're around, you are intentionally present in mind and you are bringing everything to the table to help or contribute just to make the person know you care.
21.I love how you can remember actors I know nothing about.
22.I love how you love me enough, to ask what I want.
23.I love your generous spirit, giving and giving and giving, not only to the people you love but to people who have hurt you.
24.I love how you ask me questions and LISTEN to my answers.
25.I love how you inspire me to be a better person. To do my best and to give more of me.
26.I love how you get so interested in things I never thought would be exciting. (sorry. History. I can’t remember half of it which makes it hard to get interested in it.)
27.I love you and how you have been through so much but haven’t let it steal your joy.
28.I love how we can sit in silence and not need to fill it.
29.I love how I don’t have to talk  but you know how I feel.
30.I love your style, and your beautiful hair.
31.I love how you aren’t afraid to wear what’s comfortable to you.
32.I love how freaking adorable you are in grandpa sweaters.
33.I love how comfortable you are with yourself.
34. I love how honest you are even when it doesn't benefit you.
35.I love how you’re not afraid to let me see the emotions you feel.
36. I love how real you are.
37.I love how you don’t sugarcoat things,how you deliver truth with grace.
38. I love how you  make sense of things I can’t even begin to understand.
39. I love your strength and how you help me to be strong.
40. I love your courage to try new things.
41. I love how you become an advocate for the people you love.
42. I love how you try to understand things that others are unwilling to acknowledge.
43. I love how you think so much, and how thoughtful you can be.
44. I love how hugging you feels like home.
45.  I love how you are shamelessly devoted to pop culture trivia.
46. I love how smart you are and that you are confident enough to show it.
47. I love how passionate you get about the things that interest you.
48. I love how you are so loyal.
49. I love how you listen to my fears and don’t laugh or try to placate me.
50.I love how you support me and continue to encourage me to find the way to my dreams,.
51.I love how you intentionally go out of your way to include me and others into your life.
52.I love your determination to live this life in this best way possible.
53.I love how detailed you can be.
54.I love how organized you can get.
55.I love how you can plan and execute things so well.
56. I love your truthfulness and honoring our friendship with honesty.
57.I love how you are so patient with me when I don’t understand.
58.I love how you believe the best of me.
59. I love how you work so hard for the life you want.
60. I love how you can discuss two sides of things without forgetting how you stand.

and you don't live near me anymore,
we go weeks and months,
without talking,
but I love you still,
and I always will.