He made me into a god; only calling on me before the impact.  
Did my lips taste like salvation?  
Was there holy water between my legs?
My body is not a place to be baptized in; if you want me, want the messy, fierce rush of blood that floods my cheeks.
We cannot be reborn, our flesh is not divine.  
Ours is slowly decaying matter.
Touch me like I’m rotting.

Let’s not make this pleasant.
I don’t want to sigh or breathe my memories into you;
I want to spit them into you.
I want to set you on fire with all that I’ve felt,
and watch you writhe in the burning pain that is me.
I will not put you out until I’ve charred your skin
and can peel it from the bone with ease,
just as you have done to me.

To be clear, I refuse to be pretty.
I want the blood to stay under my fingernails
and the bags under my eyes to darken.
I am not the daisy-freshness of spring.
I am grotesque.
I am skin
and bone
and blood
and bile
and spit.

You don’t know what it’s like to dig and dig and dig in the dirt with bare hands
digging toward fecundity
I am trying to find the honest words
Buried under our mother’s bones
But all I have now is the dirt under my nails, and
because I am a woman
I set my bucket of soap and water down hard
I scrub the blood out of the wood
My knees tear open from supporting my own weight and soak the floor
Every clean movement forward is erased by the brushstrokes of my own body
Please
Don’t tell me you know something about housekeeping
My body is an apology I can’t scrub clean

So this isn't a poem, but I wanted to share the tumblr I've created to house all of my poetry.  My tumblr contains some of the poems I've posted here, as well as edited and completely new poems.  From here on out I'll almost exclusively post on tumblr, so if you have an interest in any of my work I urge you to check out the link, and perhaps even follow.  Thanks!

http://victoriannpoetry.tumblr.com/

This is not a breakup poem
This is not me liquifying when I open my eyes in the morning
This is not my furious animal tearing at my chest to control the thrashing inside
This is not the bile that burns my throat
And this is not the hollow in my abdomen

This is not a breakup poem
This is not your static sobs and back-breaking voice cracks
This is not your acid apology
This is not your deadly uncertainty
And this is not the jagged shards of yourself

This is not a breakup poem
This is not the blood bursting from my scraped elbows and knees
when I went head over heels because you promised you would catch me
This is not my pavement-smacked stinging palms
This is not the gravel in my wounds from when you let go too soon

This is not a breakup poem
This is not your whiskey bottle on the shelf at the foot of my bed,
a gentle reminder that now I have nightmares alone
This is not the toothbrush and the hair gel and the speakers and the things that have more staying power than you
And this is not a breakup poem

I hear two explanations and I don’t know which one I believe more
So I believe neither
I cling to my chest to stop my heart from falling out
Instead it tears apart my ribcage
I tear apart everything else
And stop its thrashing
Now we are even

He smelled like cigarettes
And his eyes sparkled like broken glass
I still feel his hands like hot lead
On my stomach
But he’s forgotten my face

I am not a bad person because I don’t believe in soul mates
I can still believe in the existence of love
And the infinite power you possess when you run your finger down my spine
I believe in the absolute truth that is my stomach rolling over
Like a wave curling and crashing on a deserted beach
When you offer up a lopsided smile upon seeing me for the first time in days

No matter how embarrassing the sentiment is
I still feel every cell in my body pull toward you in a desire to be held
Like you hold that cigarette--
With the knowledge that there are many others just like it
But in that moment it is worth more than gold

It’s not wrong for me to believe that I may feel this with someone else
In another town
In another country
On another continent
Maybe just miles away
Or across the ocean
It does not change how I feel about you
And me
In this moment

This body’s falling apart.
My bones are separating at the joints, pressing into my flesh, coming through.  
My ribcage is cracking open sending splintering shards through my veins,
revealing a heart beating out of time.  
Speeding up,
sending my blood racing through my body, down to my toes, up to my head.  
Slowing down,
letting its beats reverberate through my hollow abdomen.  
My eyes float in my skull
scanning, trying to find something to focus on, sending blank images back to my brain.  
My lungs are dragging air down into them,
forcing it back up.
They expand and shrink,
compress and release.
I've forgotten the sound of my voice,
surprised as it stumbles out over the arid landscape of my tongue;
it is weak and damaged from disuse.
The space in between my bones is filled with what could have been—the fragmented fantasies desperately pieced together.  
My muscles are dry, tight, and useless.
I am full of could have beens.
Brimming with retrospect.
My skin is stretched tight,
holding back every memory of every moment wasted—forgotten only to be remembered and regretted.  My limbs are too heavy for me to support.
I am dragged down by them.
I am made immobile.
I am the sum of all these parts,
and it is not enough.

He kissed me
I don’t remember the song playing
But I remember his lips
And his tongue
And his hands
And his breath
And his neck

We shared secrets in the dark
I spoke in clichés
Because I did not know
How to put into words
What I was actually feeling
And I was feeling scared
I was scared of the things
You do to yourself
I’m still scared
But I love you
That should be enough

Don’t you dare
Put your tongue
In my mouth
If you can’t make
Your eyes
Meet mine

What I have can’t be fixed by a doctor
How do you tell someone
“I don’t know where it hurts”
Or more accurately
“It hurts everywhere; where should I being?”
Because how do you tell someone that the pain of inadequacy
Mirrors a blow to the head in its intensity
But far surpasses it when it comes to longevity
And as far as timing is concerned
Every watch I’ve ever had has broken
So how do you tell someone that the lies are never easy
But the ones you tell to yourself crash over you like waves
And drag a small portion of you away each time they recede
It’s like a game of Them vs. Me
And what makes the defeats unbearable
Is the fact that they don’t even know they’re playing
I’ve been keeping score
And keeping score
And keeping score
The walls are filled with white lines
One
Two
Three
Four
Slash
Maybe if I point to my chest and say, “Here”
Someone will understand
It’s a pain that feels like everything I’ve ever wished for
Has solidified and turned to stone
Making a home somewhere in my ribcage
And it’s expanding
I write bravery on my skin because I have none
I make deals with  a god I know doesn’t exist
Just so when I’m unable to hold up my end of the bargain
I have someone to blame for falling through on his
And I still can’t figure out if it’s funny or sad
That the only man I want to kiss me never will
And the last one who did traded in his lips for his hand
So he can high-five me like we’re friends on the same team
Never making mention that we kissed on the floor of his room
Until we were breathless
While breakup songs played in the background
Taking up just as much space as we did
Became witness to our nervous hands fumbling over each other’s bodies
Turning our kiss into a *******
I have heard that silence speaks just as loudly as words
But silence builds up in my mouth like a traffic jam
And my jaw is begging to break from the weight
So maybe now’s the time to scream
Time to shout
Because I've been keeping all my thoughts filed away
Under the title, “When The Time Is Right”
But there’s no time like tonight

I’ve been trying to write a poem
To make these thoughts sound eloquent
But all I want to say is
I need you to put your lips to mine

I sang sad songs
Because I thought by singing of other people’s pain
I might expel some of my own
But my chest found new reasons to tighten
I want to take you back to my room
And make love to you on my unmade bed
I want it to remain unmade
Because we never leave it
I want to get drunk
Drunker than I’ve ever been off of you
So drunk I can’t walk and you have to carry me
Carry me as long as I’ve carried you
So our arms and knees can have mirrored stress fractures
I don’t want to fit conveniently into your life
As a place holder stored between
Loneliness and opportunity
Because for me you are the hurricane
That I stood in my backyard waiting for
While everyone else evacuated to higher ground

Please don’t purge me along with your winter coats
In a box by the curb marked “Spring Cleaning”
I know it’s time to lighten your load
But trust me
I’ve been so starved you won’t even notice
Me hanging around your neck like a noose
I won’t ever have the strength to tighten

I whispered all of my secrets into the spot on my mattress
Underneath my pillow
When you placed your head there
You could still hear them
As they fought their way up
And even though you were crushed by the weight of my breath
My god, it was so beautiful

What a fool I was
To love you with my whole heart
I should have known
That a heart so large
Is such an easy target

You can’t
Leave my pillow smelling like cigarettes
And expect me not to become more addicted
Every time I dream

If ever I begin to feel ok
I just have to look at my skin
To remind myself
I am worse
Than ever

A day without your voice
Is an eternity
I have discovered how to slow time
And I will live an agonizing forever

I saw a picture of you today
You were wearing the shirt you wore
When you kissed me
I know shirts can be washed
And worn again
But you were also wearing the same smile
And that left me to wonder
Can you wear the same smile twice
Did you forget to ever take it off
Can you wash it
Hang it up to dry
Be careful
It’s delicate
Or can you wear that smile
For another
Was there someone else
To help you hand-wash it
In the sink
Carefully placing it over the clothes line
In the backyard
Then gently
Help you put it back on
You,
Carelessly flaunting
Such a beautiful thing

There are soft things in this world
Right now, I don’t want you to be one of them
Love me hard
**** me hard
Make it hard to let go of your 2 am cigarette lips
I have spent so much of my life being told to be careful
Tonight, I want someone to show me how to be reckless
Make it so hard to stop thinking of you my dreams slam themselves against your image
Come
Press your lips hard to mine, do not treat them gently, they are so hungry for you
Don’t stop there
Press your body so hard to mine there isn’t room for air in my lungs, and so they fill themselves with you
Do not be soft
There will be plenty of time for the sort of softness that comes from the way my head fits so perfectly in the crook of your neck
From the way I would send a troop of police escorts away because I feel safer with your arms around my waist
There will be time
Right now, don’t be afraid to make things hard

Every minute that passes
Lays down a mile between us
And I’m trapped in the space between
You never offered
And
I never asked
It’s been one month
Since your lips have been on mine
Since you were underneath me
How many minutes
How many miles
How far away are you now

My pain is so dense and heavy
It is almost tangible
I only wish that I could give some of it to you
But that is selfish  
I never belonged to you
And you never belonged to me
So I know I have no right to be upset
But tell that to my arms
That ache from the restraint I’ve put on them
When all they want is to pull you closer
Or perhaps notify my heart to stop
Speeding up when you smile
Better still
Force my lungs to stop their rapid breathing
Forgive them
They just want to take all of you in
And I know this sounds crazy
But I’m still trying to figure out
Why there were no flashing lights
No alarm to tell me
“This is only a test”
“This isn't the real thing”

Please don’t let me know
When my lips have ceased to be
The last ones you’ve kissed

We do not call ourselves poets
We bleed when the light does
Proof of our existence
We are not poets
We are translators
We translate the heave of a chest
Into ink
Give words to the desire that burns sheets
Leaving them full of holes
Keep your eyes peeled
And ears alert
It floats through the air
And we are still breathing in
Something beautiful

There’s a hole in my heart
Big enough to store all of your grief
There’s a hole in my heart
Everything in and around my bones will be given to you
There’s a hole in my heart

Body like an old house
Rickety frame from where
The termites have made their homes
Warped wood and rusty nails
Bones like beams
Skin like plaster
Hips sway like lace curtains
Moved by the breeze
Overlaying dusty glass
Your tongue like flames
Flick it out
Set this foundation ablaze

I am made of saltwater and glass
and I am a hundred years old.
I breathe in your cigarette smoke
for a minute, you are in my lungs.
Stockpile warmth,
winter is coming to crack our hands.
The light trembles and dissolves
we are now in darkness.
When you left our eyes were still layered with sleep.
My fingertips still hum from the realization
that we are made less of flesh
and more of electricity.

One day you’ll meet a boy
Who will tell you he has the answer
But you will be too caught up in the lines that appear around his eyes
When he smiles
And the spaces between his freckles
To realize that you never asked a question

I want to go to New York City with you
And stand hand in hand in Times Square
It sounds like it would be nice
To be blinded by the lights
But I suppose that whispering clumsy words would become tiresome
The hum in the air is not the lazy bliss of summer
It is the impatient growl of taxis
And we would not just be surrounded by lovers melting into each other’s arms
But also by people whose mothers have just died
Diners at midnight always seemed romantic
With my arm stretched across the table so I could entwine my fingers with yours
But it is important to remember that the lights in cheap diners always flicker
And the bags under the waitresses’ eyes will remind us of reality every time we ask for another refill
And yes, I know what drinking alone will do
And still, I’ll stick to what I know

I don’t like the taste of *****
So I add it to a lot of lemonade
As if I can make the world go down easier
By diluting it with fantasy
And I don’t care
As long as the result is more pleasant

I said
I hope everything works out for you
And I do
But it won’t for me
And that’s not pessimism
Or an outstretched arm with a wide open palm
Waiting to be weighed down with sympathy
It’s an understanding of things no one says
Of the things I feel when I disappear
Into the black velvet corners of my thoughts
It’s not pessimism
It’s the certainty that no other soul
Will have enough water to put out the fire in mine
Or worse
Not enough kindling to keep it raging

We stand on opposite sides of a field
And whisper, “Forgive me”
We extend our arms
Out and to the sides
And bear our hearts
We whisper, “Forgive me”
We pray that it is loud enough
And though we do not know
Why we are supposed to be forgiven
We whisper our soft plea
Let the air carry it to each other's ears
"Forgive me"

I don’t believe in God
But I pray
Pray
Pray
Until my knuckles are white
And my knees are bruised
That this year will be better than last

Us in Stanzas

I sat down on the bench next to you and noticed you were smoking American Spirits instead of your typical Marlboro.  I asked how you were doing and in the middle of your explanation you told me you really just needed a friend instead of something romantic.  I smiled politely and silenced the scream in my throat as you read me two more of your poems.  Then we got burritos.

My friend hesitates when he confesses to me that he knows you, and you’re ******* crazy.  He tells me that you once tried to open your veins in front of him, and release all of the poetry inside of you.  I call you and you don’t answer.  I spend the night worrying about you in a way that makes me sick, but not as sick as all the beer and ****.  By the time I realize I haven’t eaten all day I’ve been on the floor of the bathroom for two hours, as my best friend holds my hair.  In between my violent retches I flawlessly recite Yeats’ “No Second Troy”.  It’s funny, the things we remember.  

I can’t help feeling that now I’m a stranger who knows what your twitching leg feels like on top of mine as we sleep.  Sometimes I wish I didn't spend those nights with you on your bare mattress.

The next morning I go to breakfast with my friend and her boyfriend.  I don’t like how uncomfortable their happiness makes me.  I order what I always do, and even though I’ve been so empty the first bite makes me feel full.

I never told you, but I still have pictures of my ex-boyfriend on my phone.  I’m sorry, but the taste of his name had barely left my mouth when you kissed me.  He was covered in tattoos and my parents never liked him anyway.  My mom asks how I’m doing, and says she really hoped you would be different.  I don’t tell her everything.  I tell her these things happen.  

There is still time for you to be okay; I’ve been good, I’ve only panicked in the time between seconds.  “Actually text me,” I said to you before you went home.  You were nauseous and wanted to sleep it off.  “When have I ever said I would text you and didn’t?” you ask.  “Once or twice,” I said.  “I haven’t kept track.”