Tag: tumblr poems

But if it’s frozen and full of tar, it can never break

When your eyes freeze and turn to ice
I need to run or
I am impaled by your words
like darts—the poison
seeps into my blood stream and
I carry the venom
inside me until it claws at me
from inside my veins, restless
to get out.

So much
venom thickens my blood to tar and
fills the cracks of my heart
with lead,
and the only way to forgive myself for
being cold enough to freeze you, too, is
to let it out.

So when they scratch
and wriggle in my veins,
I cut them loose and
watch the black venom 
drip out. 

Two In One

I knew the lonely parts of your heart. 
They were my campgrounds
when my walls began to burn and
the ash and smoke threatened
to suffocate me beneath my
crumbling ribcage. 

When it was winter in my heart, 
and my veins became 
frozen red rivers, 
you always had a fire going
in yours. 
I would huddle inside the 
crevices between
your atriums and swim in your
bloodstream until I, too, was red
underneath your skin. 

You Break It, You (Don’t) Buy It

I. She was a wide-eyed wonder with 
   a virgin neck of porcelain. 
   Her body did not know what it was like
   to be dropped on the concrete. 

II. You’d put her in your pocket
    while you walked, wrapped
    in bubble wrap and styrofoam, and
    only exposed her
    when you needed the time. 
    But you’d always wrap her up again; 
    you could never be too careful. 

III. All this 
    wrapping and unwrapping has become
    tedious, and your
    fingerprints are fogging up her eyes
    anyway, so maybe there’s
    no point. 

IV. You walk with her in your palm; swinging
     your arms to 
     the rhythm of her breath. 
     She’s covered 
     in stickers and flower 
     thorns. 

V. She slips from your fingers and
    hits the ground. 
    Shards of her veins
    explode on the pavement. 
    Her eyes glaze over–sticky
    with your fingerprints. 
    Her neck is covered in 
    blossoming violets and roses
    you willed to bloom with 
    your breath. 
    Her hands are
    cold and cracked. 

VI. She is too far
     beyond repair, 
     and all you know how to do
     is destroy. 

VII.You step on her and
     walk away.

We Look For Answers

in the palms of our hands, 
on narrow roads that 
twist and intersect. 

in wishing well eyes, 
uprooting the fibrous tunic in
our frantic pursuit. 

in echoing cathedrals
where we lay our souls upon 
wilting flower beds. 

in brilliant garbage dumps,
piled high, distorted into 
siren’s songs. 

in the mountains and grasslands and
the coursing veins that run through 
the dirt we were and will be. 

in the folded up papers
whose true triviality is unknown
until we are weaved
back into the earth. 

in the booming echoes of
our voices as we stand on 
elevated hills and yell into the valleys 
below. 

where they cannot be found, 
for they reside far beyond
existence. 

Black Lodge

Words
toss and turn
in my mind, sleeplessly
trying to realize the truth of what
we were. There is distortion

in the movie
that plays on repeat in my head.
Sometimes the actors change
the script slightly, and
like a game of telephone, the verity is
gone.There may be no truth
remaining in my reality. I
turn and toss
in my bed, hoping to reveal what
we were. Hoping that
the script was based on
a true story, that this was
not a mindless twisted obsession. That
the waves within me which I have
worked so hard to kill were real
in the first place. That
I loved you, once.