you tell me about
the skeletons hidden
in your closets
and i tell you about mine,
hanging on my
we were carcrashed hearts/you were the end of uslate night
your smile was more beautiful
than all the stars
but you never believed me when i told you
i sang you songs of
love and hope
and you smiled and thanked me
and i wondered what for,
the only reason i wrote them
you with the sunsets
at the tips of your cigarettes
and the oceans
storming in your eyes
you with the galaxies
lost in your bruises
and the petals of roses
slipping through slits in your skin
not everything was beautiful
but on you
it was art
you were my
something worth fighting for
and i was your
the way your hair curled
around your chewed up finger nails
the way your knuckles bled
left lipstick kisses on white walls
the way your lips cursed
the worst of words id ever heard
the bullets the blades
at my head at my arms
they were art
the way your eyes glazed
after long days of smoking and long nights of drinks
the way you smelled
of tobacco and booze and cinnamon sticks
the way your bones and your veins
showed through your skin paler t
i could only write you so many lettersit was bad but getting better
we were sad but sad together
you can't just up and walk away
with everything i had
and everything i knew
they say you can't lose everything at once
and you proved them wrong,
and it's been days of
and i think my heart is slowing down,
willing itself to stop
but you wouldn't care
you never did
it's been a while
i thought i forgave you
i thought i forgot you
but you snaked your way in
through the pores of my skin
the cracks in my skull
the gaps in my consciousness,
the ones lost in clouds of smoke
and at the bottoms of bottles
broken and shattered
but you're back
and you're not even really there.
all i'm seeing are shadows
all i'm seeing are dreams
because you said you'd never come back
yet every night i feel your arms around me
and every morning i feel your fingers around my throat
and every time in between i feel like
you are in my chest
you are the only thing
keeping this dying heart
mad kids clubi don't think i was ever getting better
there were days i could feel
and days when i couldn't
and days where i stifled sobs
and tore through skin
and held my breath
and drowned in gin
but i never said a word
because if you knew
and i never wanted you to be anything less than happy
and quite honestly,
i am pissed.
i bite my tongue so as not to hurt
those who hurt me
i break my fingers so as not to
shove them down my throat
i walk the fine line of
hoping i lose balance,
hoping the tables turn
and the scales tip to one end
because this line is getting hard to walk
and i don't care where i fall
i'm mad that i feel too much
i'm mad i don't feel a thing
i'm mad that no one cares enough to help
i'm mad that i can't tell anyone that i need it
i'm mad that i don't know what i'm even mad at anymore
you fight like the walls are thicker than they aremuffled muffled
you keep yelling
i dont know what youre saying
but its loud
and its angry
and its everything in my head
but a story below
and i can hear you
it was three years ago
when you first brought it up
i cried all night
i went to school the next day and \
smiled like i always did
i didnt tell anyone
"suffer in silence"
every time i thought of it
i came home
i cried myself to sleep again
i can hear you now
but i dont care anymore.
my world isnt shattering as it did
three years ago
i am not breaking
i am not falling apart
i am not melting to tears
as i have before.
and i wonder why
three years is a long time.
i have thought of the divorce.
it never happened.
you guys smiled
and joked like nothing was wrong
for three years
and yet i knew it was coming
the storm ceased,
the stillness after the storm
becomes the clam before the next
and this is it
this is the next
this is the storm that rips up houses
youre in my class but you dont know my nameWhen you tell my story,
tell them I was one of three kids
yet an only child
in that I was the only girl.
Tell them that the home I found
behind cream colored walls
and the kind of wooden fences little kids dreamt of
and in the salty air carried up by ocean breezes that found their ways to me
did not carry the sister I so desired.
Tell them that the sisters I had
were the sisters I found
and not ones of blood but rather
ones of heart.
Tell them how to find family in friends.
When you tell my story
tell them I wasn’t one for dreams,
for my head was often filled with thoughts of college
and test scores
could I live up to
what I had already achieved?
Tell them that
though I wasn’t one for dreams,
every once in a while
one would sneak its way in
through cracks in my skull
through the pores in my skin
through my heart and my soul and snaked up to my head,
one dream, one wish, one want
One day I would have it.
I’d help people.
Maybe a doctor. Maybe a nu
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made of treachery and sorrow.
There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...
Piercing, slashing though my head.
Starting somewhere in heaven,
Ending somewhere in hell.
Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.
Are the armies within.
In my head they are all thrashing.
On the heaven's and hell's whim.
To be light or to be darkness.
A perpetual array.
It's not merely my choice,
But the choice of the way.
It's an option of the voice,
It's a thin line of gray.
Is it a choice forced by fate,
Is it a pre-set time and date?
Or a choice to which I myself sway?
But here's our story anyway .
"Nothing that I do will matter.
As all things will merely shatter!"
All my hopes thus darkness scatter,
As it shoves me a decree.
As it si
I think of youAs suns set afar and mountains flame
And eagles, turning, turn to fire
Ash cold, alone I lie
And think of you.
All Hallows EveThey say that on this night the witches ride,
that spirits walk and churchyards spew their dead.
It isn’t true.
It’s said the stench of hell infects the earth
and healths of heated blood are downed.
But Hamlet lied.
The dead know nothing, the living less.
There are only poets with blood-nibbed pens;
souls hung between high heaven and deep hell.
You can't have it allbut you can have the glazed heat bursting from the blacktop like a broken
fire hydrant. You can have the jangle of keys
swinging from your hip with each stride.
You can have the tactility of leather and the graze of
bathroom mosaic tiles under a cold shower pelting
bullets and when the water cuts off
you can have dry book pages. You can have happiness,
though it will often be bitter, like finding a stranger’s
wallet full of pictures of smiling children until you
return it to find that the couple is barren.
You can have the scratches on the back of his knuckles,
faded, yet raw. You can have the translucency of sheets
in the sun, silhouettes but no details,
never revealing anything more than a fringe of hair
and frayed laces tripping over themselves.
You can drop obscenities like bombs until
they don’t mean anything anymore. You can pull out the Monopoly board
that broke your family. You can’t put it back together,
but you can pretend the thimble is your mother and the
and when we kiss,
he says it
leaves him breathless,
is just two awkward kids
reminding each other to breathe,
that's all you need.
the world is brighter where
dregs of strangers' revels remain --
i keep this half-light for my own.
i'll stay until the wind sighs a scotch-and-smoke
cliché, til the Muscadet's slipped from the lip
of my wayward
hello.(i know you're there before you do.)
your night is told in
patchouli-pulse wanders; mine,
in whorls of liqueur-breath. come
close and i'll find the warp
through the weft, the trails telling tales
in synaesthesia --
Platinum Blonde's been 'round and gone.
(-- closer, find syllables strewn
in an exhale's wake; stolen from my throat-
ful of careless farewells, spin and sway
and beg you stay.)
time enough for a kiss-
and-never-tell, for a stumbling waltz
to the dissonance of crystal-shatter odes
to the summerlong i knew you --
we were(n't) meant for more than this.
morning goes right through you,
and breathes a thousand fortunes in-
to shards of (our) stranger starfall.