now i see the stars.there was a time when icouldn't catch my breath whenever ithought about you , (crippled lungs and-boy, you hit me like an asteroid,there's a crater on my chest now that I can't ever seem to fill,even withoceans of my tears cried onnights when you couldn't be there to sing me to sleep.thirty two poemless days after you joined the constellations,i walked out into the yard and howled to the empty sky,andfor a moment i was Gaea, rivers running down my cheeks,weighted to the ground andburied in myself, butwhere there is no light there are no shadows, andsometimes, i wonder if i miss me.yes, yes i do.i may not see the moon, but
he saved me, but he killed me._i. first light- i met you in a crimson forest. it was a rose garden summer, and out of a black mercedes you walked out, your five year old eyes greener thansunlit saplingsyou reached up to pluck a rose from its stem, and offered it to me."what's your name?"daddy told me that i couldn't tell strangers my real name.I looked at the rose in my hand."Rose."you smiled, you were a seastorm of now long-gone innocence.i didn't understand but I knew.ii. i forgot about you for 1562 days, 11 hours, and 22 minutes,you shoutedmy name, but i didn't recognize youuntil i saw your eyes.iii. my father fell and didn't stand back up again.i screamed, and you carried me home.iv. i didn't talk for a week. i stared at the gray of the sky. it was the color of my father's eyes.you sat next to me in the pouring rain,your war
she's gone, she's gone.don't tell a broken girl withgrief pouring into the juts of her cheekbones,hunger suffocating into the curves of her ribs,that her eyes are madeof moonlightand her hair was weaved fromsunshine when you arelight years away and millennia too late
beauty (lost)and i swear, this is the last time he'llpin me to the wall(he tells me i'm a work of art,but after all this time, i'm still just a girl)too young, too young, the walls whispertoo late, too late, i sobbecause this battered body,this girl with the scarlet tattoos, she is too tired to escapeand her wings won't work in the rain.and as i suck in air, i wonder, how many more will have to endurethe pain of not being their owni have heard too many screams, all at once(God who i stopped believing in,if you can hear me,let this end, so that when i am walking in the streetswith my child, i can swear,that she will neverhave scars on her back,she will neverhave welts on her heart)
goldocean, i have no more words to give you,it smells too much like summer,too much like home, but you area thousands miles awayGaea wants to be Midas, the earth is ina million shades of the ringyou left on my front porch,of my mane back when i was wild, when i was free.i remember when was your leo, you'd stare at the stars and wonderwhat it felt to be molten but still burningbut you'd never know, never know,because the sun doesn't taste like honeywhen the well runs dry, it tastes like death. (sometimes i miss you, but i know better)
-she knew he was a grave, but she buried herself in him anyway.
goddesssky mother, i buried myself once.i was not a seedling, just a cutting, but in the arms offather earth, not sure where to go,i faced the sun. do you want to meet him again? you can't see himtoday, but he left shards of himself in me,my love, you would like him.He is forever, like the ocean, but while it's gentle, and warm, and bright.i once dropped a basket of wildflowers onto his heart and he planted them there.(and i hope he isn't like the others, i hope he doesn't let them drown.)because, sometimes, i wish i weren't as delicate as thoseforget-me-nots i braid intomy hair, i love too much and need even more.my lips still tingle with his laughterwisdom, you were always a storyteller, sotell me,why am i not the same, why are therestars trapped in my ribcage and nebulae bursting in my heart,really,how long will it take this constellation veined girl to find herself again?
wishesi am not a flower,if youtear outa piece of me,stomp ithalfway between cracks in the sidewalk,it will only die.butour lips fit togetherperfectly, likeall the broken pieces.[maybe it was just a dream.]
they told me no one could love a girl with scars.i told them that i could love myself.
Morpheus Hexi.I am the moon walker,the black coffee athletein the star-dotted evening gown.I am young, but I feel old,like an antique withfresh paint.Sleep lives in my shadow,a morphine caregiverwith gentle hands,but I dare not fall into his arms.There is a sad knowledgein his eyesthat I do not trust.ii.You left me behind,but my pillow stillsmells like you,and now my bed feelslike a fucking coffinwithout you in it.iii.Nights like thismake me wonderwhat it feels like to die.It bothers me thatonly the dead know,and they refuse to share their secret.One day I will find outthe truth for myself,and that scares me.iv.Three a.m. teaches youhow to suffer quietly.Sleep pulls on my sleevelike a black-cloaked child.He tells me everything will be alright(but by morning, I knowhe will be gone, andI will be alone again).
fall in love with (splitting hairline fractures)we swallow blues insteadof talking them out. oh,kids like us are specters,spectacles: boys countingrib(cage)s & (de)composing don't you hate (this body) is a vesselwe're deities or tomb-raiders; noin-betweens for writers these days
treasureI watched beauty die today.She said, "I've lived too longand now nobody knowswhat I really am."
12:16 amisn't it a great chance,us taking it all andrunning with the colors;our skin windy andour thoughts dry, me wanting to kiss you and youwanted to seize thestars. we are nothing morethan our desiresin the end; i will belocked between dusty pagesand you will be tossing stones withApollo. we live inside a metaphor.the way your skin feltin July stand for so much morethan a passing of molecules.
after all this time,my heart is trapped within lungs, andthe more i breathe, the more iremember- hecan't stand it sometimes,i knowwe're both broken.but ocean boy, i'm chained to you.(maybe i'll be an anchor) soon my lungs will breakwith me.itouch you through a gap in thefence- sand white asinnocence,eyes bright asstars.so please,horizon.tape us back together.
the way you speak through incisionsoh, disaster dweller, you werebone-ache blue & cyanotic.we wore lonely luminescence'round the wrists that heldour god-hands, but you werelivid skin & anesthetic to thetouch. a river of pitted veins,you said: we'll all grow weary ofthe rising of our ribs someday.
float onnow I'm thinkingthat the moon's smarter than me:she's in love with the earthbut keeps her distance,keeps moving,keeps living.I lose my orbitwhen you're not around,and I find myself without gravity,waiting for you all nightwhen I know you'd rather besomewhere else.
three ways to fall aparti.we were seventeenwhen you promised me thatthis tiny dustbowl ofa southern town was not going to beeverything my life was made of.it wasn't hard to believebecause the maps you'd spread acrossyour ceiling never lied (since you claimedit was easier to dream when theywere stuck above youin the night).i remember the lines you'd drawnin a felt pen, red because it seemed important,seemed louder than the rest, andi remember how youwould trace the roads with your eyes until youfell asleep. you had a knack formemorizing every escape route, and when i asked whyyou answered that it was because one day youwould have to run.when i asked if i could fly away with youyou said yes, and that night i dreamtof runaways and falling stars. i never was sureif they were supposed to mean something bigger than us.ii.sometimes when i lie awake at nighti wonder now how far we mighthave gotten if we ever left, if we had jumped intoyour old impala and left the road behind us -it's too
to be heard (speak)i would write youinto sentienceif these sentencesweren't so wasteful. words, dismantle worry, overwhelmcall it a stanzabut this is ab-b-b-breakdown;deterioration riotingwild and tearingat my language. stomach, curdle scribe, pausei would hold youif only i couldstop these handsfrom scribbling.i would open myselflay bare rampant wishful thinking,scrawl suns and stars that do nothingexcept shine bright and uselessscreaming your namein technicolour until maybejust maybei caught your attention;i would open myselfif only i weren'tso deathly afraid. mind, climb limbs, followheart, steady your beating;handle adjective gently,for some things are notmade for embellishment.bravery is a promiseand i,the anathemaof fidelity.you soar, you swim,you shine;and i tire of assemblingwings that break andships t
dearly belovedthese daysyour name has been slippingin and out of my rib cageand sometimes,my heart forgets to beat.it's funny,i suppose—how even after all these months i stilldon't want to believe thatyou're dead. how during thefirst couple of weeks i prayedto a god i didn't believe in and begged to knowif death tasted sweet to you. how once,when the monsters in my headdidn't let me sleep, iwrote you three poems and thendestroyed four.you were a supernova thatlit up my life fora few radiant moments before,like all good things in thisfilthy world,you came to an end.the sinner in me hopes that you have wings now.but i think that,most of all,i hope you no longerremember what painfeels like.
reveal yourselfIt's taken me all this timeto realize thatthe flowers in your hairwere actually weeds,and your promiseswere already brokenbefore you made them.
iHer eyes clouded bynightmares of the pastAngst controls her lifeas shadows chase hereach and every day
lilac flicker eyelids shuttranslucent wrists in the meadowand you said, "these violentdelights have violent ends" andi remember staring, broken bones,dry tonguedusk: the clouds are smearedacross the sky and i'mdoused in diaphanous huesthe smoke falls upwardsfrom my mouth and everythingis the wrong way round again,i watch the night bleed thesun away and rememberhow you did exactlythe same thing
lunarWhen I was six years old,I decided I wanted toeat the moon.Mom with her pink frayed bathrobeand tired eyestold me to go to sleep,that I had school in the morning.Dad with his stacks of booksand prickly beardtold me that it was impossible,the moon was too distant.Well, guess what?I ate the fuckin moon.And it was delicious.Bitches can't tell me shit,I'll eat the fuckin moon if I want to.
the only letter I've ever wanted to burni.if you want to give someone the silent treatment,the first step is shutting up.ii.things made much more sensewhen I was younger.I thought there was one path,each choice a stepping stone upon it.in reality there are a million roadsintertwined like rope.I got lostandsomehowI chose you.iii.promises are easily broken.I knew that,but it still hurtspending friday nightshivering in the rain,choking on cannabis perfumein a dirt parking lotyour face never graced.and I hoped against hopeyou might appear,but I wasted my wishingon ungrateful you.aborted love,you died before taking your first breath.iv.I took a chanceand I should've known better.you can give somebody all you haveand nothing can stop them fromthrowing it away.you've made this bed,now lie in it.you slit this suture,you're the goddamn reasonI gave up on the month of april,and soon enough you'll fall on your own bladelike some drunken samurai.v.if you want
you should be home by nowlast tuesday the house took my hand & said,it's more of a hurricane than a firesince he broke in & burnedmy curtainsmy floorsmy bridgesmy selfbut sometimes I see her with a lighter& she finishes what he didn't do(I think she's afraidof settling in,being quiet)but last tuesday I realized that she kept the lights onto frighten away the bridges & the peopleso no one will come inside& smash the teacups, steal the pipesbecause since he burnt her beds outno one lives there anymore
kryptonite kidi."I'll be batman,and you can be my robin,"you said with a smile.(it's just like youto want to play the hero.you speak when someone pulls the string on your back:you have all the right words.)ii.when I was a little girl,I wished I could be a superhero.all I needed was a radioactive spider,or hidden powersor super soldier serum.I grew up in pursuit of these,and became an adult when I realizedthat I'd never find them.I miss the days when I believed all I needed was a cape to save the world.iii.I knew you weren't the onebecause somehow I still wanted a hero,somehow I still believed they existed:one person who could rescue the cityall in a day's work.I knew you had the frameworkbut not the heart,a branchless treewith no roots.iv.sometimes I stand on the edge,wishing I could flybut knowing I never will.I think it's enough to pretend I'll learn how one day.(in other words,I'm not your sidekick.)
.i wokeon theedgeof nothing,one armdanglingover theledge(numb from the wrists down)
things that fall apart2:36, new york city, i canimagine youlooking out your window,watching the cars pass by instead of the waves, andsomething isn't right, because there's ocean in your blood andi anchor you.love,you still believe in the girl i used to be, butshe's been gone longer than this white sky summer.