language: revisited

you’re spewing words
without meaning
filling silence
with syllables
empty excuses
our feet
unable to rise
to the occasion
stiff like summer
stabbing like sorrow–
i ask you
to enjoy the
to hear
without listening
     mouths unmoving
anything said
won’t translate
into a
of arbitrary signs;
would be
so silently

untitled memory

you visit me in sleep
hum you’re still here
and i trust you.

i talk to your memory in morning
watch the sunrise with you
from a distance–

do you watch it too
    replaying summer scenes?
do you still reach over
    to place a hand upon my own?

there are letters i’ll never send
words i can never say
all addressed to you
    to us
to the past present future
i always assumed you would be in.

i count cardinals
from winter windows
waiting for seasons to change–

warmer days await
in which distance
won’t feel seem
so daunting.


Headlights dance upon the wall, growing closer in the dark.
   I know they’re not yours. 
My regrets grow
reimagining your taillights diminishing into darkness, 
leaving my mistakes in the front yard,
priceless actions no one buys the excuses for.
And I’m alone
in the house that was once ours,
your belongings absent,
leaving a void hollower than your voice
as you said
I stare up passed the ceiling searching for answers from the sky
on why I can never allow happiness to settle within my bones
always running away from what I know I want
in an endless hunt to avoid need—
my dependency was never on you
but in bottles I hid in,
too fearful to face life
without buffers.
Know it was never you I was trying to escape,
and it was never you I wanted to leave
and I’m sorry
that in order to lose myself I had to lose you first.
And I admit
I could have been better
and I hope you believe
that I wanted to be better
but the timing of the hands wasn’t correct,
now stuck ticking in the wrong meter
   back and forth
between the same second
and I’m stuck
reimagining your taillights diminishing into
the darkness
caving in around me
as I finally outrun myself.


your skin dances
against my skin
and it feels like home
sends chills up my spine
hair rising as you slide your fingers
along the curvature
of my body
caressing my hips
against your own
with ease
so sweetly
your lips
drag about my neck
whispering in my ear
stories we have yet to tell
the future ahead of us
your hands exploring
my inner thighs
searching for a god
you didn’t know
you believed in
the arch in my back
building bridges
to bring you closer
to enlightenment
my nails down your back
pulling you in closer
to taste
what it means
to be happy
to be home
in my skin
in your skin
stories we have yet to tell
the future ahead of us
a god
we didn’t know we believed in
a heaven
we reach

The sun hardly rises 
through your east facing windows,
the dark wash of hopelessness 
covering the pane thick as dust.

Your skin is stretched thin 
over weak bones,
a gossamer veil 
protecting you from yourself
in the most insufficient manner.

And I know that,
although you won’t whisper it
to even the moon,
you’ve still been trying to die,
staring up at mountains 
contemplating how the wind would feel 
as you flew down.

I can feel the pain
in your chest 
as you’re driving 
and can’t take your eyes
off the guardrail protecting
the plummeting ditches 
you imagine curling up to sleep in, 
wrapped in metal blankets.

In the back of your mind, 
there she is,
begging you to stay, 
her low voice curling through your mind 
with memories of her warm skin against yours, 
her smile waking you with a hope
you never had.

There she is, 
swimming through your tears, 
breast-stroking through waves of emotions, 
wide-eyed and fluid
as she forgives you from so far away,
her lips pursed and humming
a lullaby
of hope.

Hope you never had
until she appeared before you
like a well-timed vision, 
everything you needed 
contained within her tiny frame,
tucked underneath her ribs waiting
for you to unlock it.

You’ve been trying to die,
but I know that you know
you already have—
as you watched her turn to leave that last time, 
her smile sunken and eyes red,
as you told her there was nothing left for her there, 
that you didn’t want to try 
and that you never would—
as you told her she wasn’t the one,
as you lied and swallowed all thoughts of love,
as you broke her down
to elevate yourself—
but you’ve never felt
so low.

You’ve never felt
so alone.

Your lungs collapsed
as she sucked the air from the house
as the door shut behind her,
suffocating on the fumes from her car
as she pulled out of the driveway
and didn’t look back.