it is in these moments
that I sit
and mourn for little you
and little me
for the great love we were
and could’ve been
but it was like two stars colliding
burning each other up
since they couldn’t coexist by starving themselves just to keep the other
breathing

so in these moments
I sit
and remember how much I loved green eyes
and the way your heart
tangled with mine

during one of these moments

The wolf sits in the corner
Waiting
As
Crumbs
Drop to ensue his survival
Waiting
For the day

The wolf sits in the corner
Waiting
For crumbs that do not fall

The wolf grows larger straying from the corner
The wolf grows smaller hiding in the corner

The wolf waits
To be fed crumbs of jealousy
Or to be starved of peace

The wolf no longer waits

it’s funny how some of the most cathartic moments can be the most mundane.

like hungover snuggles with the dog

Panicking about what this year will look like, did I even like as he laughed into my neck

and she just cuddled in closer
spreading kisses where she could reach, and reminders to breath a little slower

until I felt a little softer.

and realized it’s now a new year, with new mistakes, new memories, and new feelings

but the same little best friend, willing to snore tucked up beside me

so I’m never quite alone

missing a home you cannot visit
a place no longer yours
tenant openings start to show
as the weather changes

and some viewings could happen
or have

but the leaves still blow
out the door

and she sits empty
for all intended purposes

It’s funny
hearing thoughts I have had
in the dark
Sitting underneath the water in my tub
laughed back to me
with friends
and cramped cars

it was just in a different font
a different accent
but cherished all the same

hearing pieces of my soul
Whispered against my neck
Not knowing I’d ever hear them
out loud

I didn’t grasp

how painful reckless love would be

Until I looked up into the sky

simply— just wondering how I could call some pain beautiful

never wanting to feel it again

but sobbing for it anyways

you were nothing you told me you’d be
but everything you showed me

and boy did I have my eyes closed

what happened?

is what I want to say.

but I can’t say that. Because I think we both know that as much as I loved you

and you thought you loved me.

where were we going?
where was there room for me

some kisses and liquor are best left
when left
alone

i wanted to be the one for you
not the one that got away

he said he wanted me in the worst way, and he really couldn't be more right
because he was willing to take an extra five seconds to make it seem like he cared
while I was craving connection
and we walked through some ways
to discover—— this way was the worst

some will draw lines in the sand
few will chisel out craters
many a line of chalk

and when the rest come
going about their day
They will have soil slipping out of their pockets
And rain following their wake

to pretend like nothing was there, anyways

occasionally
(mostly in the dead of night)
i remember her telling me
—-
i could hear him shaking his head, because of all the things to do
taking shots in the final words
is really the best way to make sure she never opens that door
—-
so,  occasionally
I’m reminded of all the moments shots were taken
so I roll over again
maybe journal in a poem
and pretend
(occasionally)

it’s that static sound
you know the one

when everything is quiet
but not quite

and the walls seem the same
but I can’t recall

whether it’s 2:36
or 11:41

right when I lost it all

he told me I was beautiful
but you would’ve told me I was stunning
and I now
have to go on
knowing you’d call me stunning, while he
he only calls me beautiful

“sorry hockey is life”

and i laughed, letting the dots display themselves like I hadn’t already made up my mind now. “Gotta do what you gotta do” I said.

Staring up into the final swipes of mascara. Wondering who would it benefit if I just took it off and put on the hoodie instead now? but I gotta do, what I gotta do. Just like him, apparently.

And I bought the beer. Mostly cause I pinky promised, remind me never to do that again.

And I sat there playing crib, enjoying the conversation, more the beer than anything. Laughing to myself as I caught the flicks from eyes to screen to Phillies to screen.

cause, you know…

“Hockey is life”.

so I sat pretty, sipping my beer. Thinking about all the amazing things life has to offer. Other than hockey.

I know some day
a little Lizzy may ask me
“what was your first love like mum?”

and I’ll have to muster up the way to tell her

He was perfect.
because he made me fall in love with life, with love.
With Scotch, and the way the smoke could be found twirling in his perfectly green eyes.
he taught me all the ways I should be loved, and to love in return.
the ways I should be respected, and worshiped.
he kept my heart safe, and gave me freedom, gave me joy like I’d never known before.

And all while choking back the emotion. I’d also have to tell her

but he also gave me sorrow
like I’d never known before.
because for all of his perfection, he was a fish, and I a bird.

we couldn’t reside in each others worlds for too long, cause darling we didn’t fit.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

“Do you miss him?”

Only every time I smell a campfire, taste a scotch, or see the sea.

he called me something pretty
as he slithered round my ankles
rattling along my bones
trying to constrict closer
and when I said that was too tight
well
he called me something not so pretty

it's the devils handiwork after all

it’s that moment
where you look at them across the way
and know

you wouldn’t lay on the train tracks for them
god no.

you’d learn how to sing
to sit in silence
make their favourite meal
and maybe change a bike tire.

I’d wanna live.
The incredibly terrifying, soul-wrenching ordeal, of living with them. for them.

and maybe even because of them.

it’s in that moment
you see all the moments
that aren’t just the last.

did you do it purposefully?

so that when women asked me if you actually took me on those first dates, I had to smile and say yes —

remembering the last week when we just sat in silence because if words were said we’d have to get off the phone.

or was that unintentional?

putting in your all and then breadcrumbing so I felt bad. And when you could see me withdrawing— you bring out extravagance.

So I couldn’t ask for a standard minimum.

But you wouldn’t do that, cause you’re the nice guy.

like she told me.

She laughed
“There you are”
like I was tucked under covers or hiding around the corner
like I didn’t emerge with blood soaked hands
having fought tooth and nail

I found you she squealed
reaching out for me

and god did I drop
with nothing short of relief

Because to come back to her little laugh
and find her effortless grin

I could finally remind her
or maybe it was me
her confidence came
from that little me.

he looked at me
and spilled out his fears
With a few upper cuts mixed in
and after dodging a few
and catching others

I was left with a trembling lip
and a childlike finger
“why is nothing I do ever good enough for you”

and time slowed
because in the blue of his eyes
I saw his hands closed still
grasping at straws
that already fell

and lay

no longer in reach

how do you showcase
that it’s not just the success metric
the ache roiling within

It’s that running became safety
a reclamation
a chant
a war cry

Droplets of who I was
bit by bit
Lost in the same few miles

and compressed
through blood
through screams
and loose gravel

stripping seven layers of skin
or maybe just hell

dying to the flame
to the fear
no small deaths for me

to become
nothing
but
I am

safety is not always comfort
and comfort is not always safety

but he was home.

and I was a stop along the way.

let this be the summer of:

shoulders brushing
blushes + kisses
arts and crafts
skinny dipping
barefoot dancing
sighing with contentedness
calling — and picking up

let this be the summer where he fell in love with me
and I, with who I could be

I flipped through the pages
I sipped the good tea
I wandered the halls a bit more
just so they’ll see

I waited at the tables
I used the spoon
I gave them a good one

maybe then I’ll say goodbye

I fell in love with pink again
the creases at my eyes and
freckles on my cheeks

the way clean smells
and feels against moisturized skin

the second glass of red
and bites of cherries
mixed with gin

I fell in love with all of the curves
and the curls in my hair

I fell in love with breathing
and romanticizing each breath

after feeling like each should be my last

I swear the whiskey tastes better
between little tears
the strum of a acoustic guitar
and those little ‘what happened’ moments

maybe I’m a hypocrite
and that’s something I’ll have to work on.

but why in the hell did you hear me say ‘this is my favourite thing’

and you preceded to give me an itemized list of the reasons you didn’t think it was good enough

and couldn’t tell you were breaking pieces of me, as you continued on through the pages and pages

I wanted to show you a piece of me

it wasn’t for you to judge and find wanting.

but that review wasn’t really for me anyways

words will never do you justice  
Because words cannot let you taste the way
the water from your back
only made me thirstier.
the way your shoulders smell like home,
a home of campfire, grease, ***, and rain
words cannot let you see the way
you cocked your head at me
with all the gears and wheels turning
to finally lay me down
words cannot express
How you pushed and pulled me
to grow a little more
words cannot let you hear the rustle of the sheets and the sound of you breathing
mixed with your heartbeat and the wind outside
a whisper against your ear
words only let me tell you of a moment
without letting you live it

Oh what a thing
To love and be loved

it’s funny how something
that started barely as flickers
can become enthralling
with a single hello
misspelt
with nerves
and unbridled excitement

sprinting
like the wildfire

well see who gets farther

for I tell you
let me cry for I was made to have love in my heart
and yearning on my sleeves

she was something
no
is something
to behold
to touch
to make beg and shake and groan
to laugh into a sugar cookie
or four
and whisper the recipe across her bones

she was something
no
she is mine

when we try to compare strength
in the moments of silence
and in screams

I feel we miss the point

funny how poems sometimes slowly become mere diary entries
like it is normal for you to peek into my soul, from whatever corner or slice of internet you appear to be on.
the way connection can happen without sound or eyes on one another.
but you know me anyways.

you know the way i love art, of colour and how green seems to have a hold on me, but you may not know how terrified i am of being truly seen. you also know my partner loved to make me laugh, and held me like the stars were nothing compared to my smile, but maybe not the way he sounded explaining the differences between certain engines.

you know the way i have loved, and lost, but maybe not that some of it was my doing.

and as sips of wine becomes sips of bottles i am left to ponder such loss and love. maybe even lust.

Its weird having to balance
the rage, the grief, the love, the loss
in the moments where there were helicopter rides and recycle that was never done

i felt like i was crazy? to ask for something so normal - so real. when you were gifting me with other amazing experiences.

till i heard you tell my father i spent that much to make you dinner, when i wasn’t the one that wanted that liquor.

it was the sea And it’s uncanny ability
To wash you into me
So that
The particles of I met the particles of you

I scream love me
from the top of my lungs
hoping I don’t run out of breath
and you hear that little
rattle

that I myself
am unsure
what there is left to love
in these bones of mine

as tears leach down onto pillows starved for attention

I have to reconcile the man who I fell in love with.

finding empty spaces when my fingers stretch, and grasp at nothing — like the day I tried to hold your hand when you let them take bites out of me.

I didn’t have thick enough skin for that, I had already been gnawed at. Stripped bare and bruised and battered.

but even then I still would’ve offered up my the morsels left if it meant you saw me. if you saw me.

But I have to reconcile that with the man who tries to hold it all.

You can’t carry someone when you won’t carry yourself. Sometimes grocery trips can’t be done in one.

(Much to your dismay, I know)

So I curl in, pretending I can hear you beside me

Until I want to scream, because I also hear the way you didn’t defend me.

and I’m left with pillows starved for attention and sleep deprivation.

How can you hold some of my favourite memories
And make me cherish every piece of you
but then be shattered
by the man I knew you could be

I want to scream I hate you
and maybe you do too
but I knew your (our) traumas
more intimately than I knew you

the lies you (we) weaved
a better quilter than me
with “opportunity” scattered across the floor

luring (us) me between sheets
moans
and presents

rotting like me

because nothing screams “I’ll get to it”
Like the maggots of our (your) dreams crawling back to me

cause I kept feeding them

was it my fault?
that I fell in love with your dreams, your thoughts, your potential, and your cheeky painting that would hang in our living room?

because some times I have to wonder

was it yours?
When in those first few months, you showed me all the beautiful ways you can paint with colours. Diving headfirst into all the ways people can make you smile and fall in love. how you promised me the sky, the moon and the stars. But then, it felt like their weight, became crushing. And those promises became ‘for later’ and the way you told me you’d move anywhere, wasn’t really true. And Christmas of 2027 might’ve been ******* great. But does our dinning room table still look like that?

and I was left wondering if I changed, or you just didn’t really have the rope, to grab them all.

I hope
i smell your cologne
and little bit of sweat from hard work

as you carry me through the last finish line

but knowing you

it’ll likely be a scramble against the blockades
yelling at me as I fall
to get up

on hands and knees

to finish one more mile

because you knew I could
push through it all
without you

i am relearning to dance in my kitchen
hopping to the beat
swinging and laughing
with and without friends
but often
in the sunlight

for the girl who thought
the sun would never rise again
yes

I dance for her