She's eloquent
and wonderful
and  always manages to be just as beautiful at the crack of dawn.

It's 7:41 on a Thursday,
she's away at school,
her feet aren't in the country,
she would say I warned you
and he would change the subject.
He can't be bothered,
and he who would move mountains
can't know how high they perch.
He's too high to notice,
and I gave her up to impatience months ago,
trading beer for cigarettes,
even though smoking kills.
He would cry victim,
and be right all along,
while she would smirk silently
and whisper
what goes around comes around.

It's 7:46 on a Thursday,
and your lips are far from mine
but in my mind,
still.
Still there, filled with words like
now
and
trust me, it'll start to feel good soon.

Still there, singing Iron and Wine
with too much soul and not enough rasp.

Still there, chapped and peeling,
blowing smoke in my eyes so I can't quite see.

Still there, asking for another hit,
and apologizing because you hit too hard,
but hit the **** again
because we both know what you really mean
when tension is fire and your fists are the savior
So go for it,
hit again
maybe this time I'll bleed enough for you to notice.

Notice,
notice.

The mix tape I left you has love written all over it,
literally.
Is the birthday card still on your dresser?
Ironic.
My dresser,
your dresser,
your fist,
my nails.
We all seem to have something in common here,
maybe none of us know how
or when
to stop.

Stop.
hit,
ignore,
light up,
fall down,
get high again,
bend over,
trapped under...
this time the answer is

**no.

A swarm of horses sailed toward the sky
half in reverse of the ocean,
a heart that questioned the reflection of seaside.
Back in the south she melted bicycle gears to liquor
Quenching a million budding buoys becoming boys.
Inside her smile, a compartment of spit
beside the blinds sealed off to the color red.
In a room full of eardrums
a name like a knife,
rooting and sewing the ground of your yearning.
The moon shook you
As fast as headache turns to dust.
It hits harder then your hands,
softer then tears of antelope sliding down sails;
A reminder how you looked 
when you first caught my eye
Plastered on the tree of a chandelier
Hanging as high as suicide pastries
Under emerald flavored corneas.

She carves names of people she won't meet
On bark she can't reach
On trees her hallucinations nourish
In grass too brown to flourish.

I slept through the fall
And tripped through the spring
On pebbles that grew wings
and flew to my window
Shattering glass
between my arms and your past
But the wind blew again,
Packed my door shut with snow
Until all there was to do
Was get high
And pray your hands
made it back to mine.

Each streak of sun
Is softer then the next
Except for your ray,
The brightest on this side of the triangle.

Twenty six layers of skin on the mountain;
One for each mile between
Your bare feet
And the fire by my shore.

The core of tectonic foundation swallowed words like
I love you
Until you guided my lips
To a mutual spine.

My favorite vertibre is your silent laugh,
How you have to be on top when we hold hands,
The way you catch each shooting star at exactly the right time to whisper
I love you
So it sounds like you mean it.

I can't say I said to stop
but I never asked for this to start.
It was a Monday,
A cold one when you first held my hand.
Well not my hand, my hips actually,
but it may as well be the same thing at this point.
I told you not to fall and I swear to god I meant it,
But anyway,
seasons change and nothing stops the wind from blowing.
It was the comfortable type of pain, you said,
the kind where you forget what it was like to breathe normal.
Somewhere along the way by the rocks or maybe even in a field,
I remembered why I loved you
And cried to each and every blade of grass because they'd never understand.
I pulled out clumps and chunks until all that was left was dirt,
And when I realized what was gone I sat blisterung in the sun,
threading each and every blade back into place.
The difference was,
no one was waiting on my side with a needle to repair the damage,
Because I crossed the bridge to you.
You didn't play the part
You let the part play you and ego swallowed you whole.
You were free to go at any time,
I never made you stay
And the word I love you sounded tainted coming from hands that pressed my body to the ground.
Nothing bites as hard as reality
Except you, according to my neck at least.
I'm sorry we ever became lovers because since October the girl has changed but the moon has stayed the same.
And can I tell you something...
You never even ment a thing.