About a week or so ago,
I fell in love with a man
when I went to sleep
in a boy's bed.

His chest
read "weird"
in black-block ink
his self acceptance
made me smile.

His eyes,
puppy dawg brown,
breathed in every edge
of my body
knowing exactly
where they
were going,
but never fully
meeting mine.

Up my hips
on our dance floor.

Down my tummy
on his bed.

His distant
self assurance
consumingly
relaxing.

His
freckled face
and dimpled smile
only implied
deep sincerity
matching
his overgrown
words.

In adolescence
I'd forced myself
to give up the idea
of being with a boy
whose fingers read "bad."

But
When he came
to me
his hands
over
my body
his silence
over
my mind.

He
enjoyed me

The whole night

The way I did him

He took in
my stories  
grabbed my shoulders
with shaking
enthusiasm
with reaction
to my action
with interest
in the questions
of my own life
I'd barely explored.

He took in
my toes
my ankles
my hips.

He acknowledged
the marks
on the skin
of my backside
i became
self conscious
and uncomfortable

But he noticed.

He tinkered
with the ring
of my belly button
grazed
the edges
of my breast.

He breathed
in my ears
He wanted
badly
for me
to feel good.

He didn't play games
in either his loving
or his company.

They were both
giving
gentle
and distantly
warm.

So much
sincerity
from a man
I accidentally
fell in love
with the briefness
of a boy.

The most beautiful flower

Within a field of growing weeds and brown leaves

It seems to take up all the light

besides all the dead and despair around it

Its petals are moist and the colors seem to change
to whatever they need to protect themselves from.

But, the blossom is too beautiful. 

Too consumingly appealing to whomever laid their eyes on it.

The sun’s rays were getting jealous and did no longer
want to shine on the pleasing leaves -
or on the strong roots or its inviting colors -
as they took away their shine and

were now filled with contempt.
Most of all the rays were jealous of what the flower could do.

Embezzle. Inspire and create. Dazzle.

It dazzled me.
The flower could not only extract happiness from its surroundings but it also gave.

It gave love. Love and comfort and happiness, friendship and enjoyment.
It gave a way for men to see through the bad and look at the good.

It tasted so sweet.



The flower fought, spurting out at some cautious moment
but it could not win

For it needed the rays gentle touch to grow and to

Exist.
Long after men spoke of the waste.

How such a beauty had perished,

And its power was no longer there to greet them like an old friend.

It was now only a myth,

One that no one really could remember

as it felt like a dimly lit memory,
one that played a yet unknown role in whatever faith there is to come.
It was not the beauty that men remembered now.

Only the waste.

As the good leaves no scars, and is scarcely treasured how it should.

But oh the waste. They spoke.
Such a waste.

It is not so much as I feel it completely
All consumingly, madly, inexorably,
Yet it comes in like the tide
It caresses me until those moments where it dashes my body against the razored cliffs.
It is like a radio that never turns off to give me a semblance of wistfulness rather it gives voice to my demons until all I can do is cover my ears to the technicolor sound.

Is the silence I relentlessly pursue? or is to be finally engulfed by the mercurial sea? I had a dream, where I sank slowly into the depths and it was the most wonderful sleep. Even now sometimes in the witching hour, where silence and shadows is permeated only by my thoughts I think how nice it would be to slowly sink into the unconscious - as the breath is pulled from my lungs and my mind finally gives into the silence I crave. Where my unrest from the grave rises and pulls me in for the last embrace

she and i, we had our differences.
but we did agree on one thing,
how madly and consumingly in love with each other we were.
the love we had for one another was beautifully underrated.
we misused and mistook each other,
yet our love was raw and passionate.
you were my kryptonite as well as my strength.
my god, how you inspired the light inside of me.
my heart pounded like a pair of sneakers in the dryer when you touched me.
and it grinned, you made my heart grin and swell with love!
i don't care much for the way our tale ended,
only that you keep your promise to never love one like you loved me,
to start and finish each day with me on your mind;
not living in regret,
but in silent remembrance,
choosing to cherish the way i know you felt when i grazed my fingertips along your neck and kissed your dimples.
because we may have separated,
but you will always be imprinted on my heart
and i, yours.
with pieces of your heart filling the holes in mine,
you will forever be a part of me.

For a story never to be told, this is my time capsule, my floating space in history, where a never will be meets what could have been and my bleeding heart pours out its buckets of blood before turning back to endless, changing life.

I don't know what to call you.

It feels too sentimental and cruel to call you my baby when from the second I knew you existed I knew you were a bundle of cells I was unfit to hold. That you were a less than 1%, an accident, a medical anomaly that caused my body far more harm than good. Its all so easy and clinical to know if A meets Y then X must occur until the scenario plays out before your baffled eyes. But how can I call you a baby when you were doomed from the start?

Every moment you were in my body, I was painfully ill. I don't know if I've ever been that all-consumingly sick in my life. Coming from someone who suffered crippling bipolar disorder and suicidal ideation, its a hard pill to swallow. But I was dying with you.

Less than a week without you and I feel better than I have in over a month. I feel human again. I feel I can finally be myself again.

So why do I feel something hollow within me, then?

Maybe its less about you and more what you meant. Only a little over a month in and I was miserable, in constant pain, nausea, and exhaustion. Near the end of your tenure I wanted the whole ship to go down sometimes. The only thing that kept me floating, horribly, tragically, was the knowledge it would all be over soon. It would all be over without you.

Living 10 weeks with you made me accept I don't think I can ever have another you. Not my A, not my love's X. I'm too sick. Losing you doesn't hurt when I know you wouldn't have lived well. Losing you hurts because I don't think I could survive 9 months carrying a different one I could keep. Not even if I prepared for it.

The idea of loving a kid someone else blossomed is something I've never minded. Beautiful, smiling cheeks are on all little wild ones. But the idea of accepting I don't get the choice of having one that has its father's devious smirk, or its uncle's laugh, or its grandmother's kind eyes, all because I'm too sick?

It breaks my heart.

Losing you is one more way my body has failed me. It feels like some patchwork tug boat carrying a resilient sailor, convinced to keep it going. And of course I will, I always persist. I just might have to accept I never will be strong enough for any passengers.

I love my family. I love my partner. I just wish I didn't have to throw away their beautiful genetics and chromosomic heritage because my body can't do what it should.

It wasn't just you I aborted last week. It was recent, over-optimistic, flyby dreams that maybe I could have someone like you. At least I learned I was wrong before I flew too far away.

And for now we focus on other things with words and videos and creative explosions. Its no time for wombs and their disappointments. Despite the pain its caused me, its time for me to get back to treating my old, patchy tug boat well. Sadly it had to happen to you, however, the story of me is not aborted.

Like all unsunken ships, I have to carry on.

One ear listening to the rain register its grievances with the window,
The other hearing the soothing murmur of your voice
Traveling from some insignificant place
Wrapping around my body like a favorite sweater
Or a dose of benadryl.
For a moment I am pulled away from myself
By the striking thought that somewhere
Most certainly
There is an alternate universe where I am irrevocably
All-consumingly in love with you.
The thought makes me smile, lazy and sly as a cat.

Why do we so long for that which we do not know?  Why is it the knowing, the safety, and the comfort drain us and the only way to fill up and live again is to be fighting and scared and so consumingly unsure?
Why does she go looking for trouble in all the right places?
And why are some days so very much heavier than others?
The light ones almost seem to drift away in the memory taunting the mind to recall whether they were real at all or just existent in the crevasse between sleep and dreaming where all misplaced and beautiful horrible things go to linger a while

to be so full of love I shine like a beacon
I want it to fill me like glowing water and drown the darkness in me
to drown when I cry
flowing light and glittering ideals
to hope, hope despite evidence that may make me stop
soft like a blanketing of snow
suffocatingly, deafeningly, consumingly soft
love like a fist and hope like sea and stones and the endless rhythm of tides
to be soft and loving and hopeful
tasting blood and cracking knuckles, to be loving, to be soft
to never be hurt again

There was a clearing in the darkening wood
Where my beauty would come to meet me
Blades and grasses of sentience in which I stood
Hummed therein a lyric of unequivocal destiny.

Tonight my beauty would find me
Even when crossing over the yellowing musk
Tripping through ivy's tangled eaves.
Reverberating seed and floating husk.

Even if it was terrified of the darkness,
Pinholes in the ceiling extending out of reach
Purging the tiger lily, weeping catharsis
Veins swelling within birch and beech

It would come, following trail and print
Drifting with cicada, down feathers of phlox
Treading across fragrant stems of peppermint
Into Fear's waters, Truth's rising equinox.

The sky was a wounded rabbit punctured through,
Crippled and limping across thinning treetops
Tracing spattered blood of evening dew
Breached forest's sharp edge and came to a stop.

Dense, wet footfalls swiftly soaked my spine
Impaling me with a realization consumingly remote
I only so much became the fireflies within the pine
That swayed my limbs and took my throat.

There are some sins
that feel like
a constant burning,
shame so deep
your stomach turning
becomes a relief.

Good grief,
I am glad
that isn't me.
I may not be
perfectly at ease
but my shame
doesn't torture me
all consumingly.

It just buzzes in
the background
discreetly
like a handful
of lost honey bees.

There is no way you could love me if you knew me.
It is not possible to be so self-inflicted
These wounds you dig yourself
But your blood is under my nails.
There is no way you could love me
Love this disease that is in my head
Selfish, consumingly distain my mind
Don’t kiss my scars
You’re only opening them again
Don’t tell me they will heal
Because time has never been my friend.
Don’t love me.
Don’t destroy yourself like this.
Don’t let me do this to you.
Leave while there is still color in your mornings
And cramping smiles in company.
Leave while you can still taste food
While you still have a reason to be awake.
Don’t let me ruin you.

my fingertips pulse blue and black and all feelings flow away to nothingness. the air that bites my face with razors reminds me of how much pain I hold while being completely and consumingly numb. there is a hole in my chest and blood gushes, trying to making up for the vacant space.
will winter give me his arms, carrying me to sleep? will his lips give me the words wedged in unused  vocal chords? I am missing something and am devastatingly alone.
he left early with the sun and I long for him as a summer day. I possessed nothing but the company of the dark. as time passed, I finally appreciated the company of stars.

She’s still broken
Fell back asleep
And has not woken
Sinking deep
One eye wide open
Two subconsciously closed
Forever and always hoping
To remain composed
But retracted into the mind
Overwhelming, consistent chatter
Treats the body unkind
Emotions scattered
Vulnerable to relapse
The depression and anxiety attacks
Whole life on the verge of collapse
Indifference piles up like brick stacks
Creating a wall
Heavy as f-ck
Too much weight; can’t move at all
Feeling forever stuck
Laying here
Heart beat alive
Covered in fear
Water below, ready to dive
Love is calling me near
Water consumingly cold
Difficult to breathe
But washes away the old
And grounds me to the Earth beneath
My weary feet
And the White Light I’ve seen
I will not accept defeat
Despite how challenging it’s been
Maybe my head under water
Isn’t all that bad
Resurfacing, I’ve floated further
Smiling, grateful and glad
Breathing in salty sea air
Ocean Breeze on my face
Friends who care
Take a picture just in case
I let go of the feeling
When I embraced the healing.