i spend most of my time
trying to not take up too much of anyone else’s
i’m not a fragile human being
i just live a fragile existence sometimes
there are so many things about myself
that i still have to learn
like my blood type
and effective coping mechanisms
and anything good about me at all
i’m sorry my low self esteem rubs off on you
and lingers like a perfume scent
in the cross-stitches of your sweaters
but you have to admit
wearing sweaters at all in this weather
is a crime of its own.

the endless fields of larkspur & lily;
the gentle sounds we make when we do not fear
being heard.

in some stolen moment, our backs blinding
against the sun; our mouths
sweetened ripe just like the things
we have not yet made;

a lightness made gossamer wings &
that place where we forget everything
but taking flight.

this whole of the aching sky & more,
the bounds beyond which we dare not or
have not yet touched.

& out of the blue,
ribbons of light,
a forgotten stream of honey, or love
that we have not yet made.

our bodies an offering; a
minute harvest summered &
reaped before we are able to see
what we have done.

I wish
I believed
in god;
that way,
I’d have
someone
to blame
and thank.

Someday far away
I’ll be dancing around the kitchen
tipsy on good wine
baking cookies
with vinyl playing
and the love of my life
next to me

my heart nearly stopped every time i had to cross the street
so let’s thank the queen for writing it down
before she’s just another thing i have to step over
all the rest have tickled my feet so far
and everything under construction reminds me that these days
the only remedy seems to be better luck and more cloud cover

i’ve been racing to crash on the couch
just to wake up to see if i have time for it all
and i want the stereotype to be true so i have nothing to cry about  
with the way things are going
you’d tell me not to be so brutal to myself
but the thrill i used to know is now paying its dues to the concrete

i was almost convinced i wasn’t asleep
when she whispered paris
nothing, everything may have changed
so this is not like anything i’ve never meant:

my heart nearly stopped with the regret of not talking to you
it's hard killing birds when you don't have any stones and
besides this time i think i've really done it
two days and this is already my favorite story but
second chances don't have to be so mysterious
maybe i just wanted to see you smile again

i should have said it w/o one of and the s after the L
still choosing o over x
and your pull showed my hands a home in the back of your denim
two across the channel makes the significant not so, if you want it
i’ll keep looking for you so long as you
don’t stop drawing me maps

if i died in my indecision then
your mouth showed me heaven
you’re the closest thing to purpose
i’ve ever tasted

i wish you knew how much i mean that

there are so many of you
that i would love to sit down with;
maybe over a milkshake and a plate of fries;
and just talk.
i want to ask you about the boy that hurt you,
about the anger you feel deep inside
over a father who said he’d come back...
and then didn’t.
i want to run with you through pages of words and say
“oh that’s right, what a lovely metaphor.”
i want to see all your smiling faces and
thank each and every one of you for showing me kindness,
for saving my life.
i want to collaborate on novels of poetry
and laugh with you through the tears of our pasts.
so until we sip those milkshakes and eat those fries...
thank you, to
some of the most beautiful people i have never met.