I'm tired of sharing:

My reflection

my smile

my eyes

my nose

my dimples.

They're not mine though. Are they?

Your dimples

your nose

your eyes

your smile

your reflection.

No matter how far away I try to run,

Our shadow is sewn to my feet.

City’s got a way of swallowing sound,

like it knows I’m out here,

knows I’m spilling my guts under flickering lights,

knows I’m calling for you across blocks that don’t care.

I’m walking through a maze of concrete and glass,

hands jammed in pockets, hoodie up,

trying to tune out the sirens,

the subway rumble like some deep heartbeat under the street.

You got me looking for signs in places we used to be,

like every corner’s an open tab,

some receipt for all the words we left unsaid.

The skyline looks the same, but it doesn’t.

You took something with you

that I keep reaching for in every damn reflection.

I keep seeing you in flashes:

on the corner, leaning against the wall,

smoke curling from your lips like a ghost,

that laugh hanging in the air like graffiti.

I know you’re gone,

but the city don’t stop reminding me

you were here.

I’m calling your name to the sidewalks,

letting it spill out in places we used to roam,

fighting like hell not to forget the sound,

the rhythm of it, bouncing off brick,

off the metal of street signs.

I don’t fit here, or anywhere,

just keep pacing the grid,

calling your name into the cold,

into the wind slicing through this city

waiting for it to bring you back home.

i am acquainted with monsters;

how do i know you're not one of them?

i am blind

and i am stupid.

life is perpetually not what it seems.

i seem happy, but who am i?

it breaks my heart.

i break my heart over and over again,

wondering who you are. picking at the

dirt on your soul and trying to see what's

underneath, please, let there be more

underneath.

giving you up would break my heart.

none of it was a secret,

and jokes are rarely jokes.

which just means i can only blame myself

for lying and deceiving myself. for

pretending that any of this is ok.

ok?

maybe it's unfair.

but that's what i hate about myself.

i am weak, and malleable.

i do not stand up for my people.

i can barely stand up myself.

it breaks my heart.

it breaks my heart.

When I think of you,

the distance between us melts,

oceans shrink,

and the sky bends closer

to hear the whisper of your name

on my breath.

You mend parts of me

I never knew were broken—

with every laugh, every quiet moment

where we exist together

on opposite sides of the earth

but still feel like home.

Sometimes I wonder

how my hands would feel

on the softness of your skin,

if they could memorize the lines of you

I’ve only traced in my mind.

You,

with your tenderness,

your warmth that wraps around my cold edges

and breathes life into them,

I feel your love—

pulsing like a star,

even when you’re so far away.

How is it possible

that a love like ours

reaches through space,

through time,

and holds me

when you’re not even here?

common words in common places

my car smells like sugar flowers

sweet as the sight of you through a doorway

ghosts wander through butterfly gardens

and the stone gods watch, larger than life

- the fantasy is us together -

pinned like insects against the wall

tea stained pages, double dip,

books that have touched a thousand eyes

i want every forest to know you,

every rock to feel the memories through my feet,

seep into the dark earth below and

grow tiny flowers or crisp leaves or rough bark

that remembers this love

and tells the stories to the wanderers

long after our time has passed

i dream of too many songbirds

and silly little things

too wrapped in silk to see the consequences,

you see? and shadow minds on the other side.

croquet towers, a million little lights.

trapped ghosts in ivory towers,

those we've all seen before.

but lilac purple shawls don't lay across

our shoulders like they used to;

they hack and burn and sink through

the skin, right to the bone.

yellow sunrays, bouncing across the water.

and too many footprints in the wet sand.

brown paper bags on either hand, castigated,

sent to the edge of the forest until we can

remove the stain of life from our eyes.

mushroom dotted forearms, i look down,

see trails of ivy where my toes used to be.

wrapping around the earth, stone, sun.

bound by laws of gravity no one ever thought to teach.

repress the butterfly. silk wings for another day.

pinky finger in the sky, feel the wind,

like hot tea: surprise. and burn my lips.

birdsong for another day, lightning and

lighthouses for now.

shade your eyes from the light and

fight your way back to shore.

9.2.24

I’m broken.

I thought it was because I was fragile,

like a glass ball

shattered,

weak and jagged,

scared and scarred,

ready to slice open the foot

of anyone unfortunate enough

to come walking by barefoot.

But it’s because I burned so bright

like a flaming star

exploding,

imploding into a black hole,

nuclear Armageddon,

ready to blow into pieces

anyone unfortunate enough

to venture into my blazing orbit.

Remember when

you asked about

the scar

that's on my knee

You also learned

how tomboy me

would sometimes

fall from trees

You asked about

so many things

The things

that make me

“me”

But now

you're gone

and

no one asks

such

trivialities

Now here I am

I trace that scar

so absent-mindedly

While

telling strangers

’bout the ways

that you

have

wounded

me