* ~

d e a t h,

p l e a s e

remember to

t u r n

t h e

lights

= = =

off

&

l o c k

the doors

w h e n

y o u

l

E

a

v

E

.

I’m walking on scars . on your faded moonlights

it’s tugging, it’s pulling

yet, I don’t stop . just small curious steps

cautious, but moving forward

drawn to the things that color your atoms

I chose not what to look for

if I see dark matter

that once pulled you in ( deep shadows of pain and doubt lingered )

I don’t stop, my feet are not fractured by the glass on the cold ground

a sign of something

that was once so fragile and loved

that burned the suns in your eyes . that ripped your insides

when beating flesh turns into unanimated shards

( mirrored cracked just from one tap )

you were there

inhaling the dust

recklessly it might seem, I don’t stop

I rest under a tree in your lost woods

only human

need time to recalculate my state

get up - spirit calls , venture through

so, I walk

and in the night I stumble until the light grabs me

grabs me whole

after faded moonlights . came a sun hidden within the universe

that universe was you

catching once again on fire of hope

reflecting in the comets

made of breath constructed from my lungs

last night I was caught into your gravity

falling into those skies

they pulled at me

I couldn’t stop

didn’t want to, if I can be so honest

my light ventured into the darkness before me

never realizing

that I would stop the night

remembering sun rays that were once lost

had the earth shifted , so much that I stumbled into this path?

not a lot, love, just an inch, that’s enough

last night I was caught into your gravity

falling into your skies

and now I stay

walking on scars . on your faded moonlights

both feeling your pain . and melting within your joy

( that simple )

.

Show her the moisture behind your foundation

___don’t hide the cracks for they are beautiful roads that lead to your heart.

Leave the stains of salted tears upon your cheeks

___those stains are your organic tattoo that tells your story

Let her breathe life into your veins

___no matter how exposed you are

Show her how broken you really are

___even broken stars still glisten in the night

Allow your darkness to drip from your lips

___into the kiss that will resuscitate your heart

I often feel like a wild beast, fleeing at the smallest movement.

I fled when I realized that we weren’t in love.

We weren’t in love,

but fuck it if I wasn’t.

It dawned upon me too late that you were a wild beast too,

gnawing on your own leg to get out of the trap

that I apparently was.

You left me to pick your hair out of the drain

and the pictures down from the walls,

like picking scabs off too soon.

I don’t know how to translate that into poetry.

And know I’m here, smoking your cigarettes just for the scent.

When the sleep won’t come,

don’t open the vodka.

When the words won’t come,

don’t pick up the phone.

I don’t know if you touched me just to break me like a promise.

I don’t know if you touched me, because I was the first thing

in a long time that felt good,

but it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair,

I never got to yell,

I got to sit in silent tears with hangovers

you could name battleships after.

The first time you touched me, I didn’t know what to do with my hands,

like they were alien things, like I’d never had hands before

and this was the first time, and maybe they belonged in my pockets, and maybe they didn’t.

The first time, we were in the same bed I tried so hard to stay still.

It was the first time, our bodies were that close, the electricity could light whole cities.

I felt like screaming, or think of Charlie,

‘I got a Golden Ticket, I GOT A GOLDEN TICKET’,

breathing was hard like algebra, or why we do the things we do,

only thirty seconds had passed, this was worse than breathing under water,

I wanted to say so many things and nothing,

I felt everything.

I know I leaned into the insecurity too fast.

I’m either slow and shuffling or colliding at maximum speed.

I don’t know gray, never have.

And now I’m sitting here, five beers in,

with charred lungs from the cigarettes I devoured

in the attempt to smoke you out of my head.

I am still surprised I’m alive.

I tried to forget you, you know,

but you grew roots around my ribcage

and sprouted sunflowers below my cheekbones.

I wish my mother had told me

that you can’t water flowers with vodka.

And now I can’t think about anything else other than the hickey on your neck.

And you’re out fucking some blonde girl who gets high all the time,

and I’m a fucking mess.

You’re up in the mountains, and I’m drowning in lakes while you’re describing the water.

I’m scared of the nights.

I’m scared I’m losing my mind.

I’m scared you’re going to stay in me forever.

The day you left, I realized why hurricanes are named after people.

While I attempt to fall a s l e e p

And I’m d

r

o

w

s

y

With exhaustion and cynic thoughts,

Please hold me tight.

Do not let g

o

Until it’s morning,

The sunshine emitting into the bedroom,

P E

*My eyes fluttering O N meeting

Your own.

startling to glean

starting to screen

staring too mean

string two gene

sting to wean

sing to scene

sin two teen

in to clean

i too queen

i

walk

a

winding

path

paved

with

my

regrets,

the

worn

cobblestones

under

my

bare

feet

rough

against

my

skin.

i

can

feel

the

ghosts

of

my

poor

decisions

tugging

at

my

heels,

beckoning

me

to

turn

and

go

down

that

path

again.

i

can

smell

the

enticing

aroma

of

toxic

love,

tempting

me

to

stop

and

breathe

a

little

longer.

i

can

taste

the

bitter

tang

of

sadness

in

the

air,

calling

me

to

wallow

in

its

depths

for

a

second

more.

i

can

hear

the

bickering

voices

that

would

pry

inside

my

head,

whispering

to

me

to

listen

to

their

words

anew.

i

can

see

the

heat

of

my

forgotten

anger,

shimmering

in

the

air

as

a

spiteful

reminder

of

my

past.

i

know

the

path

is

summoning

me

back,

but

i

hold

my

head

high

and

keep

striding

onward.

forgotten and I

wish I could

r em e m be r

the rhythm. D

o you

hear it?

The trees sag

here, wi

thou

t you.

They sound

like rustling

branches and crackling bones

and loose clothes.

I don't

know how

much longer I can

bare to

listen. Hello,

it is me

again. Calling to ask

you if the tree

still sings on that

hill. I've

I saw my hands getting lost: (1)

Their size never amazed me

too big for my body.

I dipped them into a new task:

capturing

june bugs

in winter. (2)

I imagined the unimaginable.

My hands are still too big.

My eyes even bigger.

Yet I learned to love the grit

under my fingernails. (3)

I cannot explain

because words

In plain meaning

corrupt the truth of

metaphor. (4)

_____________________________________________________________________

1. I sometimes am a bit too giving I feel like I have nothing left over for myself.

2. I have always had a strong imagination and get lost in my thoughts so I remember the stories my father would tell me growing up and how I wanted to make stories of my own.

3. I wanted to show that there are imperfections in myself as well as a determination that I am learning to love as I grow up.

4. I sometimes think that there is more truth in metaphors than in plain sentences because life is full of metaphors, staring us right in the face that we just do not see.

i dream in

scenes.

of a lost child,

grown up to be queen.

of cities upside down,

swarmed by machines.

the skies are burning,

the fire is green.

and then i wake up,

no more to be seen.