Thursday, May 9
I’m sixteen again
when you say name
And my skin still crawls
when our knees knock
underneath the table
And the look in my eyes
is the same one you saw
on the first night you held me
only intensified tenfold
These are the things
that make me think forever
or at least for now
or even just for five minutes
to know the way our skin feels
when there’s nothing in between us when the miles have finally erased themselves
and left us to
And the past will realize
how foolish he was
And how much more foolish
the future will be
And the present embraces that same foolishness
And when the sun creeps up
anxious to show his face
because he knows our time will be done
We will smile by the moon and remember once what was.
Tuesday, May 7
I can anticipate the setting of the sun,
making the sweet moments sweeter,
though they end with a bitter afterthought.
My heart’s been stretched enough already
bound to the north, but now
the east and south and west.
To miss one is unbearable,
to miss many is impossible,
so much so that heart of your mind will
decide for you who you get to keep
and the rest will fall away
and a sadness will accumulate as a result of not being
sad, that you can’t remember
where exactly they said they were going.
And when they find their way back to the place you once both knew
it won’t be there anymore
cause home’s not where you grew tall.
Thursday, April 25
Sunday, April 14
Till death to us part
or till your heart’s not in it?
And once your heart has turned to stone
you’re halfway dead already.
So what’s the point
of holding on
Saturday, March 9
I want to know your body
Like I was made for it
I want to know the birth mark on your ass shaped like Texas
I want to make a constellation from the freckles on your back
And trace them with my lips
Till we come back down to earth
I want to know the way your hair falls as the morning shows it’s face
And the way your eyes squint as you’d wish it’d go away
I want to plant tiny bruises in the many shapes of love
On the sweet spot of your neck while we’re making love
I want to read your hands like a precious diary
And after I’m done I want to lay them on top of me
So you can know me like I now know you
As we lay alone in silence
In this bed made for two
As hard as I tried to put away the thought of all before
Forever was a secret treasure buried deep in a drawer
Tried to tell myself it was just a four letter word in the aftermath
Just to help myself get along for all after that
It worked a few times and thought I was free of it
But there’s nothing harder to rid yourself of than a feeling
Once you held me close like I was made out of glue
Like I was made to sew you
You never spoke a word but your silence was a dictionary
Creating what I thought and hoped you’d be saying
But I can’t put the words in your mouth any longer
And you don’t have any of your own
It’s all wrong
And I god damn swore that I’d never write for you again
So this isn’t for you it’s mostly for-
Tuesday, January 15
I don’t understand it
just the fragility of it
and how it’s true that
“nothing gold can stay”
around the truth
of what we both know
will one day come
Friday, November 9
I fell in love with a boy in a dream
and words small
but his heart is big enough to contain
all the love I need.
He looks just like you.
Friday, November 2
I used to want to save the world
but it was too big a task for
a girl with limp wrists
and ashy knees
so then I thought I’d save the country
but it didn’t hear my voice
muffled by dead-eyed politicians
so loud, so stern, so wrong
and so stiff
then I thought I’d save my city
but still I found myself lost
in a sea of differing opinions
then among the crowd I found my fair match,
with your dark eyes and troubled mind
trembling hands and sideways smile
weren’t looking to be saved.
Tuesday, October 23
But if tears bought plane tickets
I’d be writing the symphony of your smile
instead of the eulogy of love.
Monday, October 15
I want to find you
Like quarters in my sofa
Small dusty treasures
I want to fit you
Like a puzzle
Make sense of all your pieces
I want to know you
Like my favorite novel
Touch me again
Sunday, September 9
Sad songs sing truths
the happiest tune can’t hold.
This, my song for autumn,
from the heights of summer.
Remembering the nights we felt alive,
because we were.
With eyes wide,
capturing every goodness
like tiny fireflies in a jar.
A jar which is no longer illuminated.
I’ve already forgotten the songs we sang,
just weeks ago.
Because those were the happy ones,
that told the greatest lies.
Sad songs scream truths
and I wish they’d just be quiet.
Monday, May 14
Many moons have shown their faces
since I have last seen yours
but I still know the shape of your body:
the crook of your arm around my waist,
the flare of your nostrils,
and the sunken treasure of your eyes.
It is quite likely I could
study the surface of the night’s watchful eye
and never know it the way I know you
and your most crooked smile.