I am some kind of damage today.
Some kind of disaster made for just you.

revel.

You are the light and dark side
Of the leaves on the aspen trees.
Fluttering in the wind,
You change just as often.
And it reminds me of rain
And wet streets reflecting stop lights.

I cut myself open
To crawl out of my skin.

Oh shit! There I go again.
Alacrity (I mean despondency) is clouding my sense
Of decency.
What I really want to say is that
We all have destructive tendencies.
(I keep mine in an empty 1920’s
Perfume bottle.
And like the ancient liquid
I can wear them on my sleeve).

I was confused.
And there are pieces of me
Along your street;
Skipping along the asphalt
Like a dried up leaf.

There was barely enough light
Pouring beneath your door
To illuminate my hollowness,
But you did that. And more.

I am still burning.
I’m a legless woman,
I swear

The appendage is still there.

Do you only love me in view of the fact that
        I can see cities in Coca-Cola glasses
        filled with red wine?

I am walking in a city much bigger than you
Or me.
The only thought I can assemble is the image of
Bird shadows against some broken down building.
You are disappearing
, Silently. Silently.

And I’m lying in bed trying to define Holden Caulfield, because those who insist he is the epitome of teenage angst seem so mistaken and obvious.

Or maybe I'm just naive.

“I need time to find myself”, she said.
“Where do you think you are?” I ask.

“Perhaps somewhere floating with the cotton
From all those trees that make you sneeze.
Or falling off a cliff, when someone only thinks
They’re about to scrape their knee.
Maybe I’m in the last catch of breath
Before something stops your heart from beating.”

Sometimes my sincerity
Is nothing more than my selfishness
In sheep’s clothing.
When saving you is really
The epitome of saving me;
I sure as hell ain’t no Jesus.
But I’m still earnestly seeking
Someone to redeem.

I’m a sticky note
You’re continually re-sticking
‘Cause damn it, you know I’m worth it.
I’m such a pretty color,
With doodles and sayings
that alleviate
Some kind of effortless pain
You carry with you when I’m not looking.

for my love

Remember when we went to that concert
And we found a bird’s wing in the middle of State Street?
Remember the line and the sweat and the grim
Because we wanted to get such great seats?
It was so loud, I brought ear plugs, but I couldn’t hear
The vocals.
You would text on your phone questions and show them to me.
You knew I was sick, I was hot and thirsty,
So at 10:30 you said you wanted to leave.
(I knew you were lying but that’s why I love you;
You always seem to know just what I need).
I quite like being old with you, our 9 o’clock curfew
The pains that we’ve gone through.
Let them have their youth, their damn hysteria,
Tragic, dramatic capriciousness.
I’m just fine laying in bed before it’s dark out.
Because bedrooms aren’t just for sleeping.

Precipice.
That some great explosion
Took over the sky this morning.
And there were some golden clouds in the east;
Pink in the west;
Grey where they met in the center,
Directly above the highway heading north.
That sometimes I almost get so distracted by the colors
Or the geese, or the rain,
That driving is really the last thing that concerns me.
I’ve got bloody Kleenex around the house
Reminding me I’m human, reminding me I am present.
Otherwise I might forget, you know?
You don’t know.

That’s why they have medicine for this.

I make the sheets move up and down.
Down and up.
Is that the definition of existence?
Even when I’m disappearing,
There they go,
Down and up, up and down.
They all say “You complete me”
But if hollow when found,
We’re really still just missing pieces.

I’m going to evaporate now.
Turn into the acid rain that
Pretends to make you clean.
Up
then
down
.

You are nearly gone now.
Only secretly lingering
In the northern sides of my heart,
Like April’s final snow.
It’s the damaged ones that cause
All the damage.
Some sort of entitlement;
Some sort of mad desire for consideration.
You are merely
Dandelion wishes
Floating on some awful wind
That messes my hair.

I am the chaff left
From life’s winnowing.
The piece that drifts,
You are constantly ruining.

Would you prefer me in a gingham dress?
Would you prefer me with scrapes on my knees?
Sneezing, with a hammock
Between two tress?
Feet tied in fishing line, with tad poles in buckets;
And one giant redwood floating in seas?

A single seagull without an ocean.
Grey, everywhere grey and blue,
Like some morbid picture from
The antique store-Faceless people
With two yellow balloons.
While four geese attempt a V,
That fails to point anywhere
Without you.

And I feel like the song you play repeatedly
Filled with cellos, pianos, and some sad harmony.
Only forgiving is played out for eternity
Like a lofty goal that’s never meant to be.
I keep comparing you to melodies,
Using words and verses to explain
Your autonomy.
There’s just something about your calamity.
You are fire burning warm and brightly,
I am pages torn for your stability.

(Insert profanity.)

Your heart is
Sacred.
You trust like a
Sparrow.
I’d give you all my bread,
But
You fly away when I get
Close.

You love like a
Harp does.
By offering only
Sad notes.
You love like a
mallet;
Crushing all my hopes.

And I am leaves raked into a pile. Made for you,
For your joy to jump into, to ruin, to break
To eventually throw away.
I am gravity, but you want the moon.

I miss the avenues.
I miss the ins and outs of me and you.
They cling to me, the memories.
Like honey to a spoon while making tea.
It’s tragic, the gravity
Of you and you and you and me.
I’m certain we’ll collide mid dream,
At least I assume that’s where we’ll meet.