there is something beautiful about a memory
that reaches from the pit of your stomach
latches onto your heart
and pulls it under your lungs
placing you in a moment
that once saturated the marrow of your bones

when you close your eyes you can
feel, see, and be just as it was
with carrots, a park bench, the night sky,
a bottle of spanish wine
and his arms cradling you against
the chilling wind

it takes you so deeply into
the inscription he carelessly carved
across the back of your eyes that
when you open them again and exhale
you find it fogging the midsummer air
releasing the very breaths you took
by his side

I hate Dallas
But the hotels nice
Well, at least the view is
See it?
Beautiful isn’t it.
That was earlier today.
Now I’m here
Just standing here ****
In front of this window
I’m wishing someone to see me
For a good laugh
Or
Maybe they will muster up the courage to come knock on my door
Even with the Do Not Disturb Sign hanging from the ****
It’s something about hotels that gets me thinking this way
Out of sorts and more so in the gutter
To think of all the love made between these walls
Passionate - married, unmarried, one night stands, flings…
the good, the bad, and the really REALLY bad
I imagine more of the third
I’m not this way at home
I lay content in my cotton sheets with the occasional hum of a car passing
But here, in this hotel looking out 26 stories above the city
All I want is you…against me
Until the sun rises
Where we will carry on
Go back to our lives
In silence

It’s not what you think.
I see you.

In the morning.
When I close my eyes.


At night
when I lay there restless

I see you.

I replay you
every smile,
every touch,
every breath
that brought life to my heart
that still beats for you.

You have
cut yourself open
and displayed your
naked soul

I sit in silence
trying to
decipher what is before me

Above the pain of
your organs
flowing out of
your bone and flesh
is the deafening ringing
in your ears
from my still tongue

Looking to me
for a sign of
any recognition

All I show you
is a voiceless distance

I could always
say more with you.

I feel like
pressing myself
into a book
and
giving it to you to read.

So you have turned me into a rock.
A quiet, still, hard, cold rock.

I’m burning to speak
And tell you how I really feel—
That I can’t stomach you.

But I know I board the plane in a few hours,
And for this, I find peace—
Enough peace to remain the rock.

From you, I have gained nothing but tolerance,
And the knowledge that you should never travel to meet someone you met online—
At least not without a backup plan.

I can’t fake a headache or the flu
and ask to be politely excused.
I so wish I could—grab my bag,
apologize sincerely,
and run for the door.

I would think it would be worth giving you my opinion—
just to appease me.

But in the same thought
an overpowering realization—
that even you are not worth that energy.
You might possibly even thrive on it—
Like a roach thrives on Raid
once the poison has lost its ability to throw the bug on it’s back , kicking.

So I instead will bite my tongue,
And do my best
to keep my eye rolling to a minimum…
when I’m in your peripheral…

I believe
women
are much more beautiful
than men

Whether you
look from the
outside in
or pull their flesh in
and expose them
inside out

I think
from now on
I will love only women.

He says he
loves me
but I
wish he would
make himself
stop
for there is
no life in me
to
love back.

I’ve bled
every cell
that pumped my
heart
and flowed
through my veins
into feeding
the memory of you.

There’s nothing left
of me
but a carcass
of shriveled
leathery skin
wrapped around
bone.

"you cannot catch a wildflower"
       he says.
             "you are my wildflower."

I am lost inside myself
my personal paradise
my own euphoric insanity
could i be as manic as I sometimes believe
to feel as if my soul lives in the earth beneath my feet
and stretches from the root of every tree to the tips of their leaves
exhaling me into the sky to float with the wind from meadow to meadow
I stand with arms stretched
spinning in circles like a tiny tornado
grazing the tips of each blade of grass with my fingertips
dancing with my pointed toes upon dewy petals
breathing in the heavens of the earth
feeling as if the sun was shining from within me
my world could not exist without this insatiable lust for life
you cannot hold me and shelter me under the dark roof you flourish in
I am a wildflower
I need the meadows, the sky, the sun, the air, the freedom

what is it about you that has me constantly wondering how your world is at any precise or very imprecise moment

you are consistent in that sense

you seem to sprint through my mind
long enough for me to acknowledge it is you, but not long enough for me to figure out what the reason behind it is

or the copious knowledge of your day to day to be able to pinpoint what it is that you could be doing at that moment…

drives me mad.... you, the thought of you, the realization of the thought of you...

"Life is so fragile. Love when there is love. Don’t mistake the moon as the preface to dawn. Sometimes there are only stars…"

To focus on the life
that existed
And not the passing
How does one do this
While keeping sanity
For I believe I must remove
My mind from behind my eyes
To not think that tomorrow
I cannot reach out to you
And touch your flesh

Falling asleep, I start to imagine  
The garage apartment, and  
The couch cushions spread on the floor.  
You standing over me,  
Adoring me with your eyes  
As mine wake to you—  
Your face, your smile, your love—  
And the contradicting words,  
"You look like ****."

---

Miss you Andy...
   Miss you like crazy.

Rest in peace my love.

Dating & Relationships are Complete Madness.

where do you draw the line between clingy and genuine desire

of course I desire Your presence

if I didn’t then you wouldn’t have My time

does that make me clingy?

I believe If a man Wants a woman

the woman does not need to ever Ask

or suggest

or sit back and Wonder quietly

in fear of being “clingy” upon muttering

the words “I miss you”

"hello:

"how was your day"

or

”:)”

does “:)” even say too much

my god why isn’t there a way to read the mind

i feel like i’m regurgitating my own words

and thoughts of words

the way they come to me so easily and

then fester in my stomach tickling

the back of my tongue

pressing on my lips

they nearly spill

and just before they do

i swallow them right back up

and say nothing

leaving you hungry

in the same way

i am hungry for you

I need to see more, love more, hate more,
Be broken more, have my soul ripped out,
And then ripped from wherever it was tossed to,
I need to mourn, and become tired,
I need to shine and outshine until the light is blinding.

I need to explore and feel and think,
And breathe just a little deeper,
A little more effortlessly, a little more passion-driven,
And full-blooded, I need to be more headstrong and wild,
I need to be old and young and all the in-between.

I need to live and die and be reborn,
And read, read everything front to back,
And cover to cover, in every language,
In every color, I need to listen and absorb,
Until life and death are all in one.

Until my ears bleed and my bones are brittle,
Until my cvnt is worn and my heart torn,
And sewn so many times it’s a solid rock of scars,
I need to be everything good, bad, beautiful,
Devilish and pure… so I can be a better writer.

I may be silent
but my heart will
deafen you