I’ve got to sleep on the outside of the bed
closest to the window
closest to the door
it’s crossed my mind
more than once
more than a few times
more than enough times
that it must be because I like to run away
and an easy exit
is a relief

I’ve always liked to run away
I’ve always liked too much space

I’m claustrophobic
by the wall
my heart pounds
like I’m trapped
in
and there’s something so stupid
about how
if I need to get up to *** or get a glass of water,
or stand underneath the moonlight,
barefoot,
I’ll wake him up
and the intimacy of sharing an
"I can’t sleep" moment
scares the **** out of me
because the question "why?" always follows
and I’m not ready to answer that question
just yet -
even though we’ve had ***,
I’m not ready to be that intimate

and
I can’t stand a man
that snores
though it seems like most of them do
and all I can do
is make do
and just lay there, until suddenly,
I’m asleep
but then he’ll move and I’m awake again,
until suddenly I’m not
and then it’s morning
and our breath smells
and it’s embarrassing to kiss
until it’s not anymore
and then I’ll want him to leave
but it’s rude to ask someone to leave
even though everyone has the right to
want to be
alone —

I think

I’m beginning to run away
again.

i
you say i am honestly not the same person
i say one day i woke up honest
and i do not know how to undo experience
my own eyes and ears and nose and mouth
cannot be undone at the moment
how do you do it?
push that pressure to the back of your mind
like that
how do you all manage to laugh with a straight face
at things that you know aren't really funny
i can't fathom it. where you go
when you are stomping and ripping
and ****** and jeering
and laughing and running
it's exhausting to watch you

ii
i apologize if it doesn't make sense
that i can't play along
but playing along
doesn't make sense
i could never win a grammy
with this tight lipped smile
laughing at the expense of others
makes me feel more like a paparazzi
placating insecurities for currency
leeching off the vulnerability
you may not think i'm smart but
i am smart enough to know this is not 'normal'
and there is nothing wrong with staring at you in the rearview
and saying "i wish that was really sarcasm"
i'll tell you the truth
and you don't have to like it
and you don't have to like me
and i don't have to like you
because if there's one thing i know about myself
it's that i don't dislike anybody
until they show off their callousness
hoping it's the right party trick
to gain respect

iii
we watch comedy tv, and you are worried
by the way my spine cracks
when i let out a uncontrollable laugh
dragging on, beginning to spill, and as i try to quell it
my whole body shakes with the pressure
of it bubbling inside of me
you feel all of this beside of me
a small volcano with a bent back
quaking absorbed by pillows and flowers and cushions
not quite right for you
wondering why i couldn't laugh like this earlier
when we were not alone
everyone is looking for something more porous
more willing to let in effortlessly
and absorb tirelessly
that can simply laugh like a stream bubbles
and let go of the undercurrent
yet we are sharp and uneven and course like logs
and the weight of our actions carries much further
being shunted downstream by tides of gravity
every intention runs it's course
every intention speaks volumes
if you feel that in your core
every day you will uncontrollably think of how
every intention defines the quality of the laughter
stuck in someone else's head
and you will save it for things that are funny

Witness all the little things in life I can't seem to find..
I asked for your story because I wanted to feel your pain
to understand
So I found you, there in your post apocalyptic paradise
As you wrote the words to me slowly shedding light on the nature of your place
Lost between the words whispered from the lips of your so called dream..
Your puzzle to me summed up in the sentence
I'm not her
Its too late to ask you out with a stegosaurus card
My mom wont make you spaghetti
I don't have a soccer team you can guest play on, I cant meet you at a picnic
Compared to what you had I'm a shadow
And thats all you'll ever let me be
And I thought I could hear it, the nature of your inability to care for me...
but now it sits on my shoulder
Sometimes shifting its talons
I cry because you don't see me
And all the things I have done for you seem like nothing when I look at them through your eyes
But they were everything to me
each little offering offering of affection given to make you smile
every endeavor to make you happy
turned back and given to me as thorns
but you don't care
you are very sorry you say, but you just don't care
you can't
and the worst part is I understand now..
I can see how she's better in every way
except for that she left you all alone
So I can't fix you, I can't patch up the pieces she tore out on her way out the door
I can talk to you, I can be there, but
I can't make you see her any other way
I'm just nothing to you.. after all this time
You'll never talk about me like I'm a goddess.. you'll never look at me that way
and it hurts

It's late afternoon
The sky bleeds purple
As buildings claw at its fabric
December breathes coldly
And I feel them as if they are tempests
I can see every crack on the pavement
Hear the footsteps of the ebbing crowd
As if they are thunderclaps
I feel all
And they are all mine
I am awake

It's evening
Streetlamps flicker like flames
The houses are dead silent
And what my gaze befalls is my own
But I am nothing and everything
The horizon is but a blanket
Of a little piece of the universe
Sometimes it feels good to be small
So that the world will be but a giant blur
As if in a dream
I am sleeping

It's finally night
The most beautiful face of the day
For every time I close my eyes
I scatter jewels beneath my eyelids
I paint the silver crescent of the moon on the dome of my skull
And I find peace in the dark where others find fear
In the absence of heaven's eye
Angels sing me to sleep with cherubic lullabies
While my mind grasps at the vastness of the universe
And I have found the greatest escape
I am alive.

It's quiet.
This is the only happy I will ever be.

I can tell you’ve never been touched
like a hurricane doesn’t matter
like 40 below or a deep papercut between your
thumb and your index
couldn’t do any more harm
than a teddybear or marigold —
but that was
before me

before me,
you’ve never been touched
and you’ve never touched
quite like
dissolving  
into the fresh dew on dawn’s grass
and you’ve never stopped
to feel your ****** like stopping to
smell the roses on a worthwhile jaunt
or the daffodils
or the lilac trees, purple and white
or to smile at a happy sunflower
like all of your little hesitancies and horrors
are of little to no caliber

before me,
you’d never go a night without at least a sip of something,
you’d never give yourself
a chance
to be yourself
in the sober light of love

you’re shy and you avoid it
but if you counted the number of empty wine & beer bottles
on your balcony,
you’d finally know
you ought to stop pouring at night
and figure out how to explore at night;
dip your fingers in gooey paint and smear every colour
on the pavement
for hours and hours
until the sun awakes
like you have the power to love

even if

it aches

and at first, it will, like frostbite,
like papercuts all over your palms,
like cartoon cliff jumps that can never **** you,
like getting fired or evicted or rejected
because remembering something
as fierce and as merciless
as love
is heartbreakingly overwhelming
for the fact that

you had

forgotten

and forgetting does not make you strong or shrewd
it’ll only ***** you over
and give you a blubbery beer belly and empty bottled balcony
and before me,
I’m pretty sure you thought your life was a tragedy
because drinking feels nice and *** releases hurt
but I’m just not interested in being with an alcoholic,
so it’s best we stop taking off our shirts.

Fifteen years since I was safe.
Six years since I had a peace of mind.
One year, six months since our first kiss.
One year since our last.
Ten months since I last felt your touch.
Eight months since we had a conversation.
Seven months, five days since were were together.
Two months since it rained.
Two weeks since I last cried.

Three seconds since I last thought of you.

*My memory is my greatest enemy.