red and yellow stripes
floral skirt
kleenex in the floor of her car
she steps outside for some air
very aware of her lungs in this moment
everyone talks in hushed voices
for fear of waking the dead
they call it senseless
rumors whispered to grieving ears by the funeral home entrance
poison injected into a mournful vein
my lungs are moving but there is no air here
there is no air in her
a soulless visitation to track marked arms
there’s nothing here but over-perfumed vases of silk flowers
i want to tell her how sorry i am
but i cannot turn around
i cannot understand how people stand in a circle and cry together
i cannot understand showing your heart so openly to near strangers
(hyperventilating in the car like a real ((dysfunctional)) person)
it is so hard to understand a love that scars you
these chairs are too comfortable
these conversations too casual
the sky is too blue, your lips are too blue
twenty eight years of fighting
a war against your own brain
it’s so unclear
if this is winning
or losing

lacy roses reign over my veins
and galaxies govern these bruises.
i am delicate.
yes, i had thorns,
but they fell from your reckless care,
one by one,
and now i am all broken roses
with bruises that never end
like the galaxies beyond our knowledge,
beyond your knowledge.

they don't care.
they'll only care when the lace is ripped.
and the children made of stars
engulf me until i am no more;
only then do they realize
that i am delicate.

For the first time you hit me.
2. For the second time I cut.
3. For the third time he ***** me.
4. For the fourth time I wished myself dead.
5. For the fifth time I lost a friend.
6. For the sixth time I cried.
7. For the seventh time I failed that class.
8. For the eighth time you called me that name.
9. For the ninth time I refused to eat.
10. For the tenth time I tried to **** me.

you stole something from me.
pieces of me I can never get back,
and all the others after you
will try to rebuild me,
like the toys they
played with when they
were young.
we both know that
they can't replace the
things you took.
they can't fill the holes
you made.
you stole my fire.
you stole my existence.
and i pray to whatever
god you believe in
that it burns you
alive and
ruins you
like it has me.

the connection between
the two
was elegant and
breathtaking.
almost surreal in a way.
he brought out
pieces of her that she  
didn't even know existed.
he made her feel
genuine and real.
for the first time
she felt
Alive.

Question:- Who bothers you?
**Answer:- My own thoughts.

the traces
held so closely
they break.

all that was said
and left
unsaid.

the touch
of the beloved
a fading memory.

your smile
like the sea greeting the pink dawn that day
vanished into starless night.

and i, in truth
though torn open and emptied
still draw from the well
of gratitude, that endless sky
that you left in me.

a parting gift.

fragments of light.

tender mystery.

i made you
turn the doorknob for me
me
me with hands full of squishy pumpkin guts
wash them clean to get them messy
again
sculpting a friendship out of a fractured romance
you, with your broken shovel still planted in my backyard
sliding your hands over me, no friction
like a pool stick in between our chalky fingers
the thunder of knocking down bowling pins
sounds like atom bombs in an empty arcade room

how dare you