Let us pretend, beloved, that
this is the skin you wore yesterday.
Allow me to lick the salt from your
lips and I’ll ignore the black dog
who at night, stalks my fire escape
and feasts upon the lull of a sleepless—sleep.
The dog who drags me back from
the cliffs of a steady breath
and bites salt from my lips.

I want to take this dog.
I want to see her —your her—
knot her fingers in its shabby fur,
and flail beneath its jaw.
So I can see the inside of her body—
all thinness—a red delicacy.
I want to see which vein you loved,
so I can know for sure
that you have been there:
the muscle —a tendon— the tightening
of how you were inside her.

But I feel the bloom of your iris
steal into the pound of my chest,
so I forgive how these
hands —broken hands—
never tore through my hair.

My pupils just fill with bowed heads
and pleading wrists
while the dog gnaws
at the break of my ankles.

And in this little moan of bloodied floor
and sodden wood,
the kiss of your mouth
grazes my neck’s snap—
your fingers trickle up my thigh

into a little pool of Never Enough.

You had tried to warn me about the time
the power line snapped
while all the birds were asleep—

but the dog had torn my ears from me by then.

Peeking through the blinds,
spying on the sunrise.
I live in the dark,
with my memories of The Fable.
hoping to send them away,
with the empty bottles on my coffee table.
My clothes smell of you and beer,
In the linen, are stains of tears.
My heart lives in the emptiness of tombs,
drinking my sad thoughts closer to my room.
In the morning, I listen to the tea leaves hit the steamy water.
Sipping on my cup as I watched her.
Staring at the reflection of your eyes in my cup,
listening to each final bubble burst, as I look up.
I never did understand the meaning of photo albums,
since it makes me cry for miles,
when I see pictures of our young smiles.
Reaching a distant high,
from your beautiful scent, still on my jacket,
From where you wept.
You told me, it’s the people who suffer,
who make good lovers.
I guess you already knew,
what was to be my fate,
ever since our first date.
I don’t want to be just a memory and slip into your past,
I want to be your present,
But it all went much too fast.
There’s no more emotion here,
and soon I will just disappear.
Watching the clouds pass in the reflection of the cars,
letting my life pass with them, to the stars.
Now its late, its half past four
and there’s a knock at my door.
Maybe its you, or maybe its my second death.
Everyone dies the first death, but the second,
is where you are forgotten.
Here is where we first kissed,
but I don’t want to be missed.

Emotions relaxed in reverse,
I can’t imagine it any worse.
The sound of chalk against the wall.
The sound of talk, outside the hall.
The girl of such tall words and steep opinions,
never found the time to leave her voice,
and lend it to another’s choice.
She walked across the smoke filled room,
as if no one was watching,
as if no one noticed.
I see my death in her eyes,
the way a man can only wish he dies.
Wearing that aged cardigan from her father’s early years,
she divided her tears,
and gave me that look,
you only find in mirrors.

You were used to the cold nights,
and the lingering midnight flights.
Driving down a smooth cigarette,
where we were going,
I had not known yet.

On the drive home,
we sat in the backseats of your friend’s car,
The distance never seems as far.
Too many of us for one car.
We left our shoes at the beach,
by nightfall no one could see,
you touch your toes to me.
The reflection of the lights,
and music blaring,
allowed me to see,
you were staring.

this is where we danced,
me too afraid to touch,
you bursting to try,

and in a crowd of people I look for your hair,
set fire to your insides,
and I am forever attracted to the flame,

caught in the embrace of smoky lovers,
you cross your heart,
speaking empty promises,
bargaining for something to burn,
you set fire to your insides,
you want to be able to feel,
you scratch at the raw parts,
you hope to erase the pain,
but all you are is constantly bleeding,
not accepting the grace of my rain,

I set fire to me insides,
and I scratch at old wounds,
trying to heal,
I rub the raw parts,
and poke parts left damaged,
wondering when I'll be able to feel.

she whispers words I've read,
she sings them in my head,
she dangles truth and tells me lies,
and I dance for her after every time,

and we are okay,
because she says she's mine,
I sway,
she pines,
and we do this all the time,
she shakes me,
and I find her laugh can wake me,
just as every lie could break me,
and it's madness,
this sadness,
but she says it's
love,
but I don't know how to tell,
there are days I skim this hell,
and I wonder of another heaven,
where the sickness of your mind,
actually leaves you well,
this is my heaven,
it just happens to be mostly dark,
and only sometimes light.

but you make me feel
                                      
                                          BRIGHT.VISIBLE.WANTED.

I'VE NEVER BEEN WANTED.

*you call this love but I can't tell.

Shruging like it's no big deal,
smiling and truely meaning it,
seeing other options...
better options then you were.

All part of beginning the process of letting go.

oh, sweet mistakes
how dear you are to me
i'd never know success without you

every skinned knee brought the eventual feeling of restoration
every heart ache whispers of future empowerment
and with every black eye - the promise of beauty returned
one must feel their weakest at some point
in order to ever fathom true strength

i've found myself in the heaps of rubble
left behind by what i'd never wanted to become

in ruin we are reborn

so let the levy break
let the water wash away what we've made
let the words evade me
let the type-writer's keys stick
let the ribbon jam
let all of my thought-out conceptions of what will happen
         never be
let it all go to ****
and get lost
and crumpled and bruised
let it all snowball out of my control
so that i can let go
and let it be how it's meant to be

let me rise from the ashes
dust off my wings
and cling to the hem line of the ever-twirling skirt of the sky

let me fly

it's been so long since i've tasted the freedom accompanied with the abandonment of the flight-plan
how i've missed the adventure of being lost
and the undeniable sense of self-worth acquired by finding yourself

i am new