sitting with stars,
we sip on silences —

between soft sighs,
twinkling eyes, and
pleasant pitter-patterings —

we drip kindness,
rain drops, and
endless moonrises

she had the sky in her eyes
the grass in her hair
and blood on her wrists

It’s a strange sadness upon me now.
A sad of
What am I doing to her?
A sad of
Why is my body falling apart?
A sad of
Just three more weeks, but 5 assignments
A sad of
Yearning. For him.
A sad of
I don’t know what to do
Or what has been done
Or how to proceed
Without making more people sad
Without breaking more hearts
Because when I was with him
So much of me was determined
That it would last
Forever
And so much of me was happy
That I wouldn’t have the chance
To hurt anyone else
And now I have free reign.
Ready folks? Here I go.
Hearts, y’all best get broken!

You have long nails
I chew mine
Stunt their growth
With nervous teeth
Hungry teeth

I stunt mine
And lament their loss

We contrast
Black to colour
Stride to bounce
Distanced to cuddly

You avert questions,
Throwing random jest
I open up and bare my soul
Honest as I can figure

Under these beautiful cloaks
We sing in unison
Sorrow and deep caring
Somehow, we understand.

Our awkwardness is equal to none
That just heightens the intensity
I explore, feet, hands,
You let me, then clasp tight

The goth and the pixie.
Who would have thought?

Synchronicities coalescing
like an orchestral crescendo
bubbling up all at once
no longer guessing
no shorter waiting
the *** is boiling
moreover
I might
   be synch
                    i                        
                      n
                  g
            ...
a pod
of killer whales
crash-splashing
quite a commotion
up, out, and back
down into the ocean
born into the storm like
a frightful forte
a front brake
endo
the

feathered
fickle angel
screams pianissimo
on tiptoes, reaching out
toward tomorrows

continuously
contagious incapacitation
tells me it straight like an arrow through time
like a taught fishing hook line
and sinker —

trying to figure out
your reason your rhyme
parsley, sage, rosemary and crime
please, let me in on your
pickled paradigm

a stormy sea, all your own,
decides for you, where
you're thrown.

Our eyes are near
and my heart is hot
but your stare is cold
a thousand miles away
Your words are clear
and time has stopped
there's nowhere to go
my thoughts are broken and blurred
Sweet lips, your sweet lips
Carry such a bitter sound

my pages are shaking like
timid dry leaves on
a brisk Autumn morning
I am a book heavy
with unspoken words
piled beneath countless others
a couple stains and a weak spine
it's hard to hold all the stories together
sometimes I'll find a page out of order
that someone's ripped out and
rearranged
The stories are getting shorter and shorter
losing pages throughout and