Past the skin I've caught glimpses of your soul
From the things that you've done to what you still do
I just wanted you to know
I see you

everything about me is sick.
maybe in the rad way i used to be,
or maybe i'm just ill.

there are worse things.
my body could turn on me
while my mind is going sour.

(my soul is rotting you can smell it on my breath.)

my eyes are always open
and life-
it isn't sweet enough.

sweat drips down my spine
and i shiver while someone
whispers hallelujah in the silence.

(i'm sorry but i am no longer a green girl. my leaves are turning brown.)

albert kamus is this
absurd enough for you:
loving and loving, running dry?

everyone says i'm not a waste
of the space
i've been occupying

but i dare not occupy yours.
you are too clean,
and god, am i sick.

i was drowning in your galaxies of blue.
blue so pale- like your    e   y   e  s
when i swore i could feel them on me but
you weren't there.
i was drowning in your galaxies
in which the stars would shine
shine bright / bright light / bright white light / pale bright white light-
not like printer paper in the sun
more like the pigment of your skin
in the moonlight.

i didn't mind. drowning didn't seem
so bad.
because even though i felt awful and sad, i
also felt loved,
and that was so very pretty to me
as a poet. as a lonely star amidst
constellations.

you almost said the "l" word
a total of (probably) seven times in the five
long-short months that
we were almost lovers.
i actually said the "l" word
a total of five times.
twice as a half joke, hoping you'd pick up
where i slacked in clarity but never
in sincerity
and three times (thrice) in my goodbye
in which i beheld these self-evident truths:

that the almost (always almost) meant
that we could never be lovers
and i thought that i'd prefer us to be nothing to each
other but maybe friends.

(maybe, maybe, maybes make me want to wish on stars
but not the ones in your eyes)

and although time flies
i'm still somehow drowning in your galaxies
of blue.

and i wonder if its killing me
slowly
as your stars blink
and i'm gone
when they open their eyes.
*almost.

words like bullets.

i don't want them to hit me.
i don't want to bleed.

i don't want you to hurt me.
i don't want you to shoot.

i don't want
you to
wake up/
get out of bed/
get dressed/
look at me like that/
close your eyes/
turn around/
turn back/
speak/
turn around/
leave.

but your tongue's on
the trigger,
and my heart's beating fast.
and i'm closing my eyes,
counting seconds,
counting sheep
because you can't hurt me
when i'm asleep.

i won't feel a thing.

you're pulling the trigger
and my mouth is quieting the racing bullets,
but although they're muffled they still hit my ears,
the pain travelling to my heart.

i bite your tongue too hard
and you bleed into my mouth
and i try to forget that you said

"i'm sorry."

and i watch you,
everything in me
still.

everything in me
is
lifeless.

step one.
you close your eyes.
you close them tight.
then you press your palms
against your
closed eyelids,
until
you start seeing red spots that remind you
of a song you wrote
for someone so long ago.
that someone doesn't matter anymore,
not really, so eventually,
neither will he.

step two.
you wear a nightgown.
the one with the lacy v neck, the one
that exposes your thighs,
the one with the vintage roses.
you wear it to bed to remind yourself
that you don't have to wear his attention
like a perfume
to feel ****.

step three.
you listen to those songs.
you know which ones.
you listen to them and sing or rap along
until your throat is sore, until
your chest hurts. do it
until you don't know why you're crying,
then write a song about why
you are crying,
so that when you look back,
you can see that it doesn't matter.
heartache fades.

step four.**
dive into a body of water in only
your under garments.
force yourself
to swim,
no matter how much
you want
to drown.

it's easy to become lost within one's self.
picking apart one's skin until
old scars are ripped open.

but you bring me back.
god, do you bring me back.

your lips write me, like a poem.
your hands right me, like an old wrongdoing.

even when my blood has spilled
onto the floor, like ink to paper.
even when i cry, 'i have been alone!'

you bring me back.

scars will heal. but their mark will remain.
i tell you this, again and again.

but when my scars threaten to open,
and time travel to the past
is like an echo- it's so **** repetitive,

you bring me back.
god, do you bring me back.

my heart bled, for it was lost before.
but i found
you
whilst trying find
myself again.
i convinced myself
it was the same.
it's what you do when you don't want to be alone.

oh, what fear?
oh, what fear.

i've built these walls around my heart,
trapped in my chest wanting to be free-
why don't you cut it out, babe?

too much hope, please don't say
we're growing further away
home is always
going to be with you to me.
will you share one more
moment with me?

oh, what fear?
oh, what fear.

it's been so long since i gave this heart away,
i'm unsure if i'm ready to face
the day
i accidentally give it up to you.