Cigarettes because I can't stand the way coffee reminds me of you and I need to fill the empty space in my mornings.
Coffee because you told me you'd **** me yourself if I let cigarettes do the same.
Coffee only sometimes.
Clementines because they cover up the taste on my teeth and smoke on my fingers.
Clementines because the smell reminds me of Christmas morning, except I don't peel them anymore because you replaced the smell of Christmas morning with rows of tiny lights that lit up like your smile.
You wrapped yourself around my throat for every time you made me feel like I was enough.
You wrapped around me many times I couldn't breathe under the pressure of you loving me so I broke every bulb individually using my own insecurities until you couldn't hold on any longer.
Coffee only on Christmas.
Everyone else's lips because you don't smile for me anymore.
Everyone else because I didn't even bother to replace the bulbs because I was scared of cutting my own hands.
Everyone else's hands around my throat because it reminds me of tiny rows of Christmas lights before they were broken.

Clementines on a Sunday morning

I've had a taste of love
I fell down
Way too many times
This feeling's so surreal
Must be crime... Crime?

Subtle, subliminal
You come around like a criminal
And leave me yearning
For your
Clementines on a Sunday morning.

the gaudy grey of morning leaks,
the hot star following close behind.
like clementines in a market bag:
our weight pools inward.
sweat wicks into stained linens-
sticky skin, pressed back to back.
   good morning.

Dysfunctional behind closed doors
Shapeshifted the lovesick *****
She'll touch you timid, trembling hands
Scared that you arent coming back
Digs through drawers and under the sink
Searching for her missing link
A cigarette will do for now
At least it isn't puppy chow
Shameless in her actions past
Comfortable in coming last
Theres more than at the surface level
And everybody's personal hell
Clove hitch knot around her waist
She followed at a steady pace
Wrapped around your pinky finger
She mimicked all you seemed to give her
What her eyes can do to you
Back of my throat still tastes like glue
What a sullen memory
Of what that **** can do to me
She bites her nails and fingertips
Terrified that she might slip
A clumsy dance that she once knew
Of falling into penance due
Twirl your hair and crack a smile
This one's gonna take awhile
Different or the same old same old
They've paid for it in pounds of fools gold
Chasing after fading dreams
Tripping up on memories
Will she make it on her own
A concept simple, yet unknown
A reunion of the sweetest kind
Desperate to escape the time
Spirits burn an empty soul
But never can they make one whole
Echoing within her chest
"You have always been the best"
She sips and stares across the room
Shadowed by her phantom groom
Cut off from hearts nourishment
All on her own cursed to lament
The choices that she didn't make
And chances that she didn't take
A sigh inside an empty mind
A drop of water off the tide
She's buried next to clementines
Roots entangle, synchronize
What a pretty little mess
Of despondancy and tenderness
And she's still waiting underground
For a love once frolicked, love once found

I peel,
Lazily.
My little feet dangle
Off the second step,
I have ***** soles,
So I do not go inside.
It’s better that way,
I can’t hear the yelling,
Only the mosquitos,
But they cry –
Like my father.  
I only taste salt
Upon placing a wedge in my mouth,
And my father,
He finds me
Soon after.  

I peel,
Carelessly.  
I’m staring –
Again –
But I can’t seem to
Help myself
From watching them,
All of them,
From my lonely table (I alone
Keep it company).  
I whisper a slur
At my shaking fingers,
I clench
Until my body is a fist,
The juice runs past my palms
Onto the linoleum.
I think that must be
The color of the Sun’s tears –
I am the only one to laugh
At such a joke.  

I peel,
Methodically.  
The flat line
Where my lips used to be
Curves downward
As my bitten nails begin
To fill with acrid skin –
I immerse myself
With such an infantile task,
Ignoring their buzzing
As it swarms around me
Like white noise
Trying to out scream
A sonic boom.
The fruit is rotten,
I throw its flaccid body away
Without even tasting it.
There will be flies.  
For 24 hours
A fly must feel like God.

I peel,
Slowly.
I don’t even
Bother looking,
I’m too busy
Laughing (the kind
Where you’re quiet and shaky).  
I throw my rind
At another heaving chest.
In tandem we take twin slices
And place citron smiles
In between our teeth,
Tiny grindstones that pull and press
The sunset flesh
Down our echoing throats.    
It is the sweetest
I’ve ever tasted.

I arose to the scent of ashes.
A quick peak out the window and I see the sun.
It's closer to the earth than the moon now.
The giant orb in which it forms watches;
haunting me.
Telling me to come closer.
I shut the blinds and it retaliates.
Bursting from the soft yellow
to charred oranges and blacks,
the beads of sweat between its pores
yelling at me.
The shock in my face that I am playing roulette,
that I am playing with fate, never fades.
And in those few seconds between then and now
I realize that I am in the middle of death.
My life cycle is just another inevitable sorrow,
surrounded by two barriers leading to pain.
So I step back,
From the window sill.
I crawl back into my dreams.
Where the time seems to disperse
at all of my requests.

You smell like burnt clementines
and flow like strawberry wine

Pick at my icy veins with your icepick heart
your hands filled with light, and my veins spilling dark

Lay with me in a white lace bed
close your eyes and rest your head

Let me smell your burnt clementine skin
and wash my hands in your strawberry wine again

Dusk,
An orchard in the sky,
Of clementines,
grapes,
plums,
peaches,
fruit abounding,

Families,
mothers,
fathers,
little brothers,
babies,
All stir
In the direction of
Laying down,
Sleep,
Rest,

Every family,
picks fruit from the orchard,
One by one,
until there’s
Nothing
but a blueberry
canvas,
with stars filling in

All heads
Hit pillows
Blankets
Fold over shoulders
Eyes close to
loved ones,
stuffed creatures,
and favorite toys

They all
give in
to the steady
Cadence
of nights
in Suburbia

I promised you i’d plant those **** pink roses but
that Sunday morning that you broke me in ways
even my best friend didn’t think was possible

and i realized it was probably a good thing
that the whole thing was a production of strictly pretend;
a play, a script, an authors first mistake-

that day, i clipped every last flower
off and set the remains in a little drawer
with shards of glass i broke in my sleep
because i loved you every single day

despite my
i’m over you i’m over you i’m over you
that i repeated with the foolish hope of
convincing somebody that air still funnels through my lungs

and it’s come to my attention that
i’d pick my head over my heart but that is only
because i am a toy car abandoned by every single
pair of hands to wind it up and let it go

And yes, I will reduce my emotions to dust or
enlarge them in full zoom but
I cannot get over that fact that the clementines rotted in front
of us and

you devoured the part of me that let my heart reign over
my head and snapped the key to my rib cage;

you promised you would keep it safe and
you *lied

Her ******* grow and shrink,
rise and fall like lava-spewing volcanoes,
Balloon out and shrivel in
depending on her mood, the time of day,
her appetite, the month of the year.

Sometimes, she’d like them big,
so she could squish them together,
squeeze them like giant tomatoes.
Other times, she’d want them small,
tiny, like snow-colored clementines
jutting out just so from the ***** of her chest.

She had a range of bras to go with every
mood of her *******—
Pale and padded lightly, for everyday life,
soft and sheer, when she was asleep,
Huge and fire-red, when fiery passion struck deep,
***** and black, only for lovers’ eyes.

She loved her *******,
loved them like a father loves his dogs,
Took them whether they were fat or skinny,
little or big,
bare or plunging or pushed out like
neon street cones.

Sometimes her ******* got her into trouble,
but more often than not they saved her life.
She would not trade them in for a million rubies,
not for seven extra lives
or a winning lottery ticket.

Bad news came one day.
She cried and she cried until her insides were hollow.
As the surgeon sliced into her chest,
she could only mumble ‘sorry’
over and over
to her poor *******,
the loves of her life,
the apples of her eye.
She could not believe she had to say good-bye.

here i am watching myself fall
and here i am wondering why
here i am perplexed by freckles
and clementines
and friendship bracelets
and hang nails.
here i am watching rain.
letting it kiss my fingertips.
here i am wishing you were here.
wishing something changed.
here.

even now
i am haunted by you still
i see you everywhere,
i hear you every time
the waves crash into the shore
and feel you each time
the wind caresses my skin.
our songs play
and my day comes to hault
i'm back to those summer nights,
wrapped inside your arms
honey and clementines
bleeding from our lips.

in those moments i realise
how deeply you are buried
into my being,
as if my bones are made
from magnets
searching just for you.

you smell of clementines and
i kept my windows open during
the storm so i could see you
coming in from the back porch.
i sometimes feel as if tricks are
played on me as if i was made
out to be dumb or the devil
had nothing better to do with
its time,
but time has nothing to do with
how the stars were made or
where we first met.
i always thought it was funny
that the others would call you
fish, but i love the way
the r's in your name roll
off my tongue like i was
singing spanish melodies
only loud enough for your
ears.
we rarely argue because
it isn't worth the bitter
that builds up,
like hard water minerals
from the well,
the moments before
lightening,
the seconds it takes
to lift off from the ground.
my thoughts run off the
tracks when i'm talking
business on the phone
and you fold your origami
thoughts onto my
unsuspecting skin.
you left creases in my bones
and let my swinging
moods pump its legs
until there was nothing left
but shallow breaths and
***** words coming clean.
i can't help but realize that
your pure patience could
put my splitting nerve ends
at ease for the second time
today.

Who shows up
no matter when
to help
anyone in need
precariously perched
clementines
are a danger
she clearly
foresees
this  noble hound
lies dreamily by
spotty snout
twitching
mesmerized by
sweet citrus treats
aching for deliverance

I have been trying for that mountain top tranquillity
whilst eating salted dinners and flicking the channels.
The rain stains the plastic patio, looking out onto the
garden fence, the concrete perimeter; the brick wall.
All indoor furniture orientates towards the television,
my family now but fellow spectators, instead of blood.
The fruit bowl holds post-its and tangled earphones
instead of pomegranates, clementines, and apples.
A writer's worst enemy is not her depressive vanity,
more the ivy creep of boredom and lack of taste in life.
We are running out of reality with each passing hedgerow,
through soap operas, wallpaper, and that halogen glow.

built on wishes
like snowy roads and clementines
never fully sinking in or forming
into the endless avenues of adventure
and taking things way too far

then suddenly
BOOM
here you are

b i r t h
is imminent

d r e a m s
are real

i m p o s s i b l e
is done

you are here with me
f o r e v e r

There only ever seems to be misunderstandings
This week felt like honey and nostalgia
Mint and perfume,
clementines and violet lilacs
sublime, sublime, sublime
It reminds me of
Connection; the importance of engagement
The need for eye-contact and fits
of laughter
And just as quick as fortune visits
my sides brittle with doubt
for something I've forgotten
And our eyes glaze but
I take the steps back and
Huddle in relapse,
your thoughts perplexed- looking at the conversations we'd shared
just fourteen hours ago.

she was new in town
not from around
but welcomed with open souls
to find a place to let her eyes
close
for a while
a place to cleanse
and re-dispense
the energies where they belong
should've been all along
but she came in time
now sweet clementines
cant even compare to the taste of this feeling
no longer reeling
for a fish thats too big with a line too taut
let go of her rod
and stopped  her fishing
realized that this world is
her water
and she better start swimming
before
she herself
gets hooked on a line
that deceives

I am trying to be brave
and wild
and kind to myself.
I accept only the peachy things.
Everything good in the world induces fire and destruction;
two things you and I
have grown to love.
The seasons are changing
and every road leads
right back to you.
I love you with the elegance and grace of a trainwreck.
Like the sweeping inhale
before you let yourself scream
on the way down a rollerocaster.
I melt into you
waiting at the bottom of the bike path in autumn.
Erasing anything that calls itself distance.
We are the result
of June and midnight and becoming good again.
The clementines,
the fields,
good god, the sun.
I love it so much I want to hit something.
We can have any of it.

We can have all of it.

clementine,
he pricked your skin
fragrant and newborn
his fingers tainted flowery zing
to him,
clementines like a thursday dream
creamsicle gleams
clementine,
you are well
a throw of a coin
a chill of a moan into the wishing well
for you tinyclem
i gather your peeling petals in my palms
perfumed sweet
my sweet clem

Because of things
that happened
20 years ago
In a bed at night
When I was vulnerable
Accidentally trusting you
Old enough to leave Home
Not old enough to buy a drink
Just lost enough to fall for you
Give myself to you entirely
Because you had found me
Where others had pathetically not
In me you found the obvious
Fear
Insecurity
Abandonment
Neglect
trauma
You found yourself in me
Except you were twice my age
Affected tho like me - but wrong
My teacher so accessible
And so all the more taboo
For a feral girl without boundaries
Oh you knew me
You smelled me coming down the hall
My untamed heart
My broken heart
My disappointed heart
My empty heart
Waiting for all of you to get inside of it
And fill me up
I thought I needed you
I thought it was love
When you are starving
everything looks like food
Even the poison
You looked at me -
right at me - into me -
I felt you inside of me
naked in my chair like a stress dream
This was English class
Because you acknowledged me
In front of everyone
And without anyone knowing
You searched me
beseeching
pleading
I imagined you begging
I was so stupid to think
You could be mine
And I could be in control

For four years I imagined you begging
For for years you were oh so careful
Late nights at school editing
Driving me home- dropping me last at the top of manhattan
Peeling clementines for me
As I watched your fingers pull back the skin
Just like that
As we discussed my poetry
Until I was gone from you
And had only your words
“Love, Tom”
And a book of poems
Emily
I knew you loved me
And when I returned
In the snow globe of
old 72nd st station
We kissed
You possessed me
This was our secret
You said
And I laughed
In my head
Then out loud but
anonymous and silent
In the rush hour train station crowd
I was not keeping this to myself
I was - so - young
What did you expect from
My hormone flooded
Underdeveloped and broken besides
brain?
Besides thinking I was your
Pet ******
Secrets are for confession
spoken once
never to be repeated
but you repeated
didn’t you?
Mistaking me for Ophelia
Getting me to a nunnery
So the truth didn’t get you fired
But my lips parted
As only a ******’s could
telling all my sisters
What did Ophelia do with all those
tokens anyway?
She didn’t take the ******* train.

That was the night
I was ticketed
For smoking a cigarette on the platform
And tossing it into the tracks.
A secret I begged the officer to keep
From my parents
Which he said he would
But did not
A lie only
A policeman could tell.
So robust I had to believe him
I should have expected him
To betray me
By just doing his job

I could say that
About you Mr teacher
Or was ******* me
without a ******
Without my permission
Part of my homework?

Weary gaze's attention
drifts between dimensions,
mind eyes' pensive lenses
pondering past tenses,
my five upended senses
blended somewhere
in suspension.

Memory's tender reverie apprehended,
seeking splendid spring times
sweet scented;
garden's greener entrances
no fences,
nor damage from
relentless tempests
long since lamented.

When did
rhododendron's appendages,
flowering in a tremendous energy,
ascending to a trembling crescendo
end in
sour fruits of limes, clementines, and lemons?
Tulips' two lips
now whispering a slender mention.
Who else had rose blossoms befriended but their bodies' ornamented thorny brethren?
Men, lent their every hands extended
left with wounds weeping,
wrenched asunder, rended,
recoiling resented.

Pen's river runs
in quintessence,
drenches in each sentence;
blood can't cleanse
despite dispensing in
perennial attempts
as if gravity's
contention depended,
gentle tendrils built
tall walls defenses,
stems became cemented,
and how long have I been
within this glen hidden?