Tuesday, March 21, 2017

This is Recovery

It is impossible
To hold your breath to death.
Even if you hold it
For a very long time.
Even if you really do
Want to die.
At some point,
You will lose consciousness
And you will begin
To breathe again
Whether you like it or not
Because no matter how much
You want to die,
Your body
Wants to live.

And, as such,
I am still breathing.

Monday, March 20, 2017

The First Day of Spring

The first hours of
The first day of
Forty degrees
And raining.
I cannot see
The road ahead of me.
I have no control
Of the wheels beneath me.
It is fast
And slow
And dark.

At five a.m.
The rain
Comes to a crashing halt.
The birds start chirping.
There are no
Wheels beneath me
And yet
Around, around, around
I go.
Winter is over
And yet
Nothing grows.

Thursday, March 16, 2017

It's Almost Like Starting Again

It's almost like starting again.
You meet me at your door
All awkward smiles and hair.
You grab your things
While I entertain myself
With your cat.
You kiss me before we leave.
And then we're in your car
And we're joking
A language we both speak fluently.
There is so much snow.

It's almost like starting again.
You hold the door, and I blush.
All awkward small talk and, well, hair.
And it's sort of easy,
Isn't it?
Social anxiety
A welcome guest at our table.
And we're eating
A smoke break to pass the time.
I really do hate the winter.

It's almost like starting again.
We go back to your place
You hold the door,
And this time, I don't wince.
And we are on your bed
All lips and skin and, of course, hair.
This part is familiar.
This part, I do well.
And it is warm in your room
And I almost forget
That the world
Is such a cold, cold place.

It's almost like starting again.
We are outside smoking
And inside talking
And it is awkward at first
But then we fall into the conversation
And we're both saying things
That we don't say to anyone
And it is late
And there is so much snow.
So I'm back in your bed
But this time
We are clothes and secrets and, well, you know,

It's almost like starting again,
But it's not.
In the morning,
I leave with a bad taste in my mouth
And I wonder
How to get out of this
Without doing damage
To you
Or me.
You kiss me before I leave.
And I panic for days
Because this is not starting again.
Things cannot start
When I am so damaged and dead.
Things cannot start
When there is so much snow.

Thursday, March 9, 2017

Things That Are Different Now That He's Gone


I salt my pizza
And the counter.
I don't make my bed
And when I do, I always
Let someone else mess it up first.
I shower with water that is way too hot.
And I increase the temperature
Whenever my skin adapts to the heat.
I leave the door open when I'm in the bathroom
Even when there are people home.
I spend time on my appearance
Every single day.
I don't work nights
Which means the sun is out when I wake up.
I drink wine
Out of actual wine glasses.
I go over 80 miles an hour
When I drive on the expressway
Without even thinking about it.
I use Spotify
Which means that I actually spend money
On music.
I don't have a cigarette when I wake up
At least, not right away.
I sit on chairs
Outside, inside, wherever.
I go out to eat
And use a knife properly when I do.
I cook real food every once in a while.
I don't make tacos my way anymore.
I go to bars.
I don't say what's on my mind.
I have a lot of secrets.
I don't listen to love songs.
I salt my pizza.

She Calls You

She calls you.
Her full name glowing
At the top of your screen.
No picture of her face.
No need.
You have her hair memorized
Soft brown curls
That bounce like yours used to.
Her dark eyes
That shine
When she laughs
Are imprinted on your brain.
You don't need a picture
To know how she looks
Patiently waiting
At the end of her phone.

And I don't either.
Her name
Has been bouncing around my head
For months.
Her face
A permanent scar in my chest.
I have nightmares
Of her hands on your back
Her clothes on your bedroom floor
Her lips
Brushing the freckles on your ears.
No picture necessary
Because I have spent months
Looking at pictures
Trying to figure out
Exactly where we went wrong
And my eyes
Always settle on her.

You ignore the call.
We pretend that nothing happened.

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Written on or before 11/16/16

If I died,
you wouldn't even
notice. But you would
blame yourself forever.
I know you would: So
here's your warning. Here's
your notice. I'm dying.
I'm dying. I'm dead.

your girl with the secret xx

Literally Kill Me

Written on or before 11/16/16

I'm so tired
But not the kind of tired
That will go away with sleep
Maybe death will help
Who knows?
I don't
I'm just tired.