tasting blood whilst
speaking beauty from
the same



i have shelves filled with
other people's

for all the times i have lost mine


the only thing besides
heartache that i
return to
again and
again and


can you
press your body against mine without
trying to
undress it


every day getting older
every day getting more fucked up



i am
deeply regretful about your
discomfort when
you saw him but
the knowing
in your eyes
it might save my friend, and for that
i am grateful

tired in a way i am at least trying to put into words

i am exhausted
from trying. for two
years, pouring myself into something that
didn't even come
close to working. i am tired from going on
dates and the connection only ever
going one way, tired from saying that i
am not going to have sex for
thirty days and then
two days later removing
all a boy's clothing and
taking him to his bedroom.
i am tired from missing you even though
missing you has never accomplished
anything, i spent
two years missing you while you
were sititng right next to me
an immeasurable amount of
time and
effort spent on
things that do. not. translate! you were the
sun and you filled everything with
light, but i was a
downpour and i was dried. up.
in the heat


a wonderful day.

i turned 33 yesterday
you hope i had a wonderful day, you said.
but i remember
last year, on my birthday
when you waited until i
was beaming, sitting with
you on my porch, finally winding
down and you said
that you couldn't not say something, couldn't
end the night in peace and talk
tomorrow, couldn't
stay after the arguing started and i couldn't
stop crying or stay calm, i was
still jet-lagged and tear stained post
three days sleeping next to a
hospital bed, i couldn't
not flip my dining table on its
end, in a rage, a most
fitting action to represent my
inner turmoil but. sure.

you hope i had a wonderful day, you said


this is gonna be the best day of my life.

this is
the second time i have done this, the second
time i have put on a dress and practiced
over and over in my head, i
do, i
do, i
take you, but i am waiting here in this
white dress certain you
will never come
and maybe that's the only reason i am
even here
in the first place
but then you walk through the
doors of this church, and you
are not only here, you are
so i say it.
i do.
but not before i shed this image in my
head of the perfect day opening the
door to a happy life and a
not before i am cut free of this
gown, this image of a glowing
bride walking toward promises of
a man that will stand beside her in
sickness or in
health, and i don something more
plain, more
submissive, more
quiet, less
loud, less
decisive, less
bold, less
hopeful and more
fitting for
today and all my
days until i
die by your side like i
died today

sleeping alone at night again.

i washed my sheets today but
not for you.
for me.

text me tomorrow maybe.

i want more than
speaking to you with my
body, disheveled hair and
cigarettes after
sex, naked in the
i like it when you talk out loud in general
and not just because your voice is
quite the beautiful sound, it's
the things you say, it's
the way you smile when you say them, it's
your kindness and your brilliance and your
ability to form the most
imagery with
the same english language i speak, in
hopes half as beautifully as you.
it's your laugh and the
warmth in your eyes, it's
smoking the same brand and
never wanting the night to end, it's
when you kiss me in the
middle of a sentence, it's
when you say yes ma'am, it's
the way my breath catches in my
throat when you
wrap your arms around me, it's
both our houses rebuilt and
all the things beneath the surface
yearning to be discovered.
it's wanting to
know you, deeply.



i walk away from
tonight with only one

that i didn't wait
until the rain slowed from from a downpour to a sprinkle as the
backdrop to the moment your
lips met
for the first time

a kiss that left me
smiling like an idiot
involuntarily but i'm not
complaining because i wasn't sure that a
kiss could make me feel like i
could forget every
thing, every
one that has ever
happened to and around and inside me, and not like it doesn't all exist and every
piece of it didn't shape me and bring me to this very occasion

but it doesn't swallow me up anymore

your fingers in my
hair, your
hand on my spine and for one
moment it's just
us and the rain and nothing
exists, not
tomorrow morning, not
the boring or mundane or
anything awful or lacking even slightly in beauty



most days i am a
of emotions, i dream of
being a rock, my
feet firmly
planted, i dream of being an
impenetrable fortress of
strength, my
feelings safely tucked into their
right and
proper place, i feel
weak for being so
swayed but even the



i cannot

no matter how hard i try

somewhere along the
way, i



there is so
in my mind
that i am not awake to

so many dark corners, so many
pieces so long unused they can
only be likened to
atrophied muscles

wake up! o and how long have i
been in this state

too deep to be
gently nudged conscious, i require
sirens and storms
to awaken me from
this sleep