I want to eat your hair
until it pools thick in my gut,
barreling black through my intestines.
Inhale your elbows, shoulders
every movement, noise,
the face you makes when calculating a tip. Moments laughter
comes so hard your face doesn't make a sound at all

Smoke still lingers in grocery store parking lots,
your puffy eyes hunting caffeine in the noonday sun.
No more a blunder on your part.
Simply a life of difficult days.

Half memories lie within these things.
A little girl who spent summers indoors
, for reasons I don’t recall.
Where her parents were, God only knows.
Venturing out beyond the sunset to drop
bottled notes into puddles and storm drains.

Staring with an amplitude that is making your organs rattle against each other.
I can feel you going on with your day.
It's the salute that hurts, a handshake you don't want to return
graves you planted yourself.

pick the wrong adventure in a conversation,
words move outside of time, today and yesterday
nostalgic for moments still happening,
as if looking back on it from a great distance

The uneventfulness of true struggle is quietly grotesque.
Like the death of a dog I know I should have loved better,
forgetting to witness anything save for the aftermath.

You can’t make fire feel afraid.
We were younger, and we are, and we will be again.

I think about your skin pressed against mine
and how I'm sure it would feel like an ******.
You wreak of *** and
I bet those lips taste of blood.

My relationship with life was as unhealthy as mine with death
I took them like pills, small doses each time
Never at once, I've always been told not to mix alcohol with antidepressants
Me and life lived like Romeo and Juliet
We only met in secret
Quiet smiles at stupid stuff, subtle and unsound
Death always took me away though
It carved my skin and tied me in red
Little red ribbons
Carved deep into my thighs, the wrist was too predictable
Again i'd try to be taken, my dearest start crossed lover
They'd bubble smiles across my lips
I wonder when they started to feel fake

They taught you to read the lines

Did they teach you to read between them?

Sometimes the empty space
Contains more meaning
Than the sharp shock of loud noises
Made by people in distress

Sometimes those who have more to say
Can't say it
Because they are tired from the fight
And only wanting to sleep