exhaling the faith i had
in myself is nightly

neither of us allow
conversation to linger
and it's sickening

we're blindly pulling at
bedsheets for answers
neither of us want to acknowledge

i don't know what's happening

each day is different,
i can't tell if my unease
is with the assumptions
or with myself

i think i know what you want
(at least partway)
but my mind wants to resist
losing interest in fingertips and
the mismatched cues

your body tells me you
need the closeness

mine is afraid
of taking this further

i don't want this to become
another bad joke, laughing
in hindsight but doubting
my intentions, i just don't
know myself well enough

and every time i mention
i am unsure, you explain
that you can't tell nights apart

texts at midnight
with questionable wording -
we have to be alone for this
to work out like you'd expect

but at this point all i feel
is a little bit sick and somewhat
concerned for your sake

because i can't be a rock for you

i am overwhelmingly sorry

there's something different
about this time for me

something goes through me
that i cannot interpret

you told me that you try
to live life to the fullest
because you might not have
the fullness that others get from living

i almost wish you hadn't told me

because my eyes start to fill
when i think about you and
i wish i knew what to say

i know what it's like to hurt
so fully and deeply, to doubt
your days and know your clock
to be shorter than some

and to have to pull it together regardless

i want to tell you so badly
that i'm scared too,
that there's so much more
than what i've told you

i think i'm afraid that
we're too much alike

i realized i missed the wind
the moment the cold hit my lips

i've been fantasizing nightly
about head against chest
heartbeats keeping time with
the chirping of cicadas outside

i'm not used to missing hipbones
and legs intertwined
and a hand behind my knee

but as far as you're concerned

my weight in your lap,
one hand in my hair
and the other on my hip

very close
(i miss being very close)
your exhale and my inhale
and vice versa
i crave close

i don't know who i am anymore

the hollow of night is fuller than i remember.

your careening towards space
glowing like lighting bugs

if there was a name for stars' tears
it'd be yours, pirouetting on
the tongues of clouds

and folded into the seams
of your jeans (the ones that hug
you like an apathetic lover)

i almost lost the steady pulse
of moonlight you whispered
about into the carpet

i love that **** carpet.

luckily i regained her rhythm!

you and your rhythm - you know
her more closely than my breath
knows the caress of hollow

i am
not part of it, you know,
i don't feel it anymore

no matter what you say.

the curl of your wing drew
me in with the muddy tips
and gilded shafts, no contrast
against a parchment yellow sky

your skin a creamy sand that shone
with the heat of the sun and oceans below
oceans filled with galaxies, for the sky is
ever day and the sea is ever night

you visited me barefoot on paver stone
white clouds of dust between my toes
i could feel you with me always and yet
nary a word was spoken to soothe me

you cradled my head in your hands and
held me close as i sobbed over all i missed
and you pointed to the sky and assured
that the galaxies there were kinder than the sea

as you pulled the copper from your neck
and placed it around mine, i felt the sting of
stardust on my collarbone. it left a scar the size
of my future and you frowned.

the earth below shook.
i felt it in my teeth.

i learned it before the subtlety of time meant me to

i don’t know who it was
who planted the seed
but i was a baby
acting like i was grown

in a world of forced skin
you were the catalyst
the cure for the summer heat
much to the chagrin of the other counselors

if you google “how to spot
grooming behavior” it was
you to a tee but i don’t think
you knew how bad it was

and neither did i, till i
applied your tactics a hundred
times. it made me the devil
the charred tongue of death

and i broke so many people
to dust before i knew what
dust was- i am only now
realizing that i thought love

was the tightening of grip
forced respect from older
boys who thought God was
a scam (you were the scam

who followed me home
weeknights and tagged
along on dates, you
disgusting ****, you should

have known better) at age
thirteen sometimes respect is
ignored when you get it from
high school boys (sometimes

he pops up again asking me
how i‘ve been and i don’t talk
because how do you tell them that
you had to start again from where

they ****** you over?)

Y O U

will consume me
from the inside and
swear it's for the best when i
start feeling the attack

Y O
U

want me dead.
i'm sure of it, i know my cells (and or)
you and your patterns and
the funny way you fill my face with

w
a
t
e
r

Y
OU

make me want to not die
just to spite the hell out of you
even if you leave me wheezing
and shaking in my bed (low low low)

Y      O       U

are doctors appointments without
the lollipop, the fear and longing for
sleep, the way i cannot breathe
when you are active (lack of empathy)

yOU
YoU
yOu
YOu

make me suffer
suffer make me
me suffer make
make suffer me
suffer me make
me make suffer

beep boop
i'm tired of tubes and needles
and pills

i look like a ******* ******

the envy of water is truer than i
ever imagined it being. i can look
through you, i can see the charade
you are playing every moment

i reminded you i existed under
you, that i needed air and room
to breathe in the starlight of his
voice and the thickness of the sky

and i see you push me away, repress
me further into oblivion until i cannot
see the light for which i yearn, the
dampness of a tomb is all which reaches

this far down. and i know that to you-
and for you- at least this time, i am small
and insignificant. you are afraid of me and
the voice i possess and the cracks in your shield.

you can't put me away for much longer.
not unless you want to wonder why i
am around every corner shaking you until
you are afraid to move, why i cannot stop

thumping on your chest until the hurricane
on your tongue hushes itself and dissolves
into a perpetual calm, or why the mildness
of winter can't invoke a reaction anymore.

you colored me a funny shade
of aquamarine

but you faded me out until
i was more infinity than ivory.