her cheeks, normally the color of moonlit marble,
burned.
all the rest of her had flushed, lending what little color she had
to that blush.

her eyes, deep and speckled sapphire,
drowned.
those lashes, longer than hell, dipped with the burden of those
tears she cried.

her hair, darker than ink in a starless night,
hung.
glossy raven tresses framed that sweet face, gently brushing
her teary chin.

She inquired my reason; asked me: "Why?"
I said, "You're Beautiful when you cry.”

As cool as the pale wet leaves
                of lily-of-the-valley
She lay beside me in the dawn.

Your body is not the forgiveness lost men need to find themselves.
What a wicked way to treat the girl
who loves you
As if you could see the light
to bathe your secrets
In the space between her thighs-
that you could find forgiveness in between the notches of her spine.
She tastes of honey suckle and smells like summer rain
but she'll never be able to coat the ash clinging to your throat.
Or wash away the ache that's settled into your bones-
She's like sweet torture
something you can touch but never truly keep-
You have spent far too long in the darkness to do anything but try and steal her light.
So I beg of you
-let her go-
Because when she finally figures out you used her as convenient, as easy, as a way to dull the pain-
she'll have to find her own forgiveness and have no time for yours.

- She let you into her heart into her body and she will spend a very long time trying to forgive herself for what you broke.

of one thing
i am sure
and that is
that i am
unsure of
myself
and it’s funny
how i can’t
sleep but my
chest closes its
eyes and hums
with a heartbeat
that is unsure of
itself, too.
i try to morph
into a body
i don’t feel
belongs to me
just so i can
fit somewhere
fit in somewhere
and i tell so
many stories
about the
universe, it
forever feels
like i am trying
to remain lost.
i am unsure
of myself;
connecting the
moles on my
skin as if they
will spell out
something bigger
so i can feel
like i matter,
at least for
a little while.
i sleep beside
myself, stare at
a reflection
so unfamiliar
i couldn’t even
identify it in
a crowd of
strangers, but
i am trying.
and one day
i’m sure i’ll
be sure
of myself but
until then,
i’ll morph into
someone i can
be proud of
and hope that
the universe
sends me back
to myself.

the smell before it rains and the taste of that first sip of tea in -20 degrees

the slow untangling of your thoughts with every beat of the drum, the way the wind blows right through you just enough to move you forward and never enough to blow you down

the sound of typing fingers when you know you're onto something good, the feeling of your own, and finally not his, skin

the seasons are changing and baby so are you / six senses are helping you develop into someone new

We walked in with the snow
Carried on drifts
Talking to the ghosts of those
We had left behind.
The sun fought in contrast
To the biting air of  the frozen landscape.
Our breath visible proof of life
As we trod crystals underfoot.
Strange monuments marked our journey
Charred sculptures of wood
Dotted throughout the forest.
I searched for you
Halting the path of strangers
All to no avail.
We passed boulders of burial grounds
Heads bowed in silence
As we continued to follow the spirit paths
Of these haunted lands.
Walking towards the future
Where we only met our past.