We laughed
because we both
hate summerand you kissed me
while we melted
under the heat of the sun
and into each other
and even though it’s warmer
in bed when you lie next to me
I think this is the kind of heat
I could stand;my skin says so when it sticks
to yours– it wants you
near.I would sweat in this
desert forever
if it meant we could hate
summer together.
for the first time, being without you isn’t what terrifies me. it is the fact that i am without you, and i’m okay.
my ethereal reality,
my dream-like state–
between your open arms and
the open curtains
where heaven pours in.
i fell in love with
words and promises instead
of with a person.
oh, god.
i’m lost
inside myself again
trapped between the walls
of this flesh
and the implications of what
this meansif you ever let go, because
if i can be lost inside something
as small as myself
if you let me go,if you let me go
i will never find my way
back.
dust constantly collected
on the windowsills
and in the corners
of the room, but
i liked that because
i always knew where to find it.
a firm
mattress was my muse,
pulling words like taffy
pulling poetry that left
a sweetness on my tongue
and a purpose almost as
defined,
as solid, as sturdy
as the walls.
this was home home until
i grew too big and my limbs
tore down the frame.
all that remains:
my body, full of splinters
and a yearning
for the way
the sleepy sun shone
through the windows.
the sky was bruised and blooming
above us, deep
purple and blackthe pool lights darted
by our feet
distorted and refracted.
scattered.
moving with the wateri lay floating
on my back, andfor the first time since
calling you mine, i felt
weightless.you wrapped your arms around
my waistfor the first time
since calling me yours,you carried
me.when the weight returned
to my body
we ran homeour wet footprints left
to dry
beneath the winking moon.
I can’t tell if
I get sad
on the days that I miss you,
or if
I miss you
on the days when I’m sad.
i see you, limp
on the ground
in every room of this house
and sometimes on sidewalks
and in darkly lit places.i’ve been sleeping with the lights
on lately, but
they don’t protect me
from the darkness
that’s entered my mindthey leave,
constantly illuminated,
the inescapable end
i discovered in your eyes
as they rolled back
into your head
on the hardwood floors
where we used to build
empires.
there is peace,
too much peace.these walls are saturated,
dripping, and sickly sweet with
the stillness of avoidance –
nauseatingly daunting.there
is always movement underneath
a still surface, there is always
something
eager to erupt.
Silenticel 