Category: Writing

run / chase

As inspired by the dual POV poems often found on Tumblr.

curiosity.

I do not find it so easy to believe
you have bones under your skin,
same as me,
when the light around your eyes is
as if you have been kissed by god.
(do you think about me?)

I do not think about you
except in the milliseconds when I do,
and I do not feel anything
if I do not think about you
too much
or at all
(do you think about me?)

the sound of your laugh,
or the texture of your hands,
or the halo in your eyes,
or the bodies you might like,
or my heartbeat at your name, or
how you might taste.
No, I don’t wonder at all.
(do you think about me?)

how to write a tragedy & stop time

a storm wrecked my ship, gave me debris in exchange for a life, mildew in place of a body. i do not know where you are now. i am standing on the driftwood, wishing i had been destroyed along with you. i am more whole than i have ever been.

this is how i learn about greed: when your world is something you have touched, anchors and bones, a fleeting, flickering thing, you have not truly possessed it. i remember the crack of thunder, the hurricane forming a canyon in my head. i wonder if i heard it at all. the destruction, the aftermath. you, gone. and that moment between—when your hand slipped, before you hit the ground, a purgatory that belongs to you. i would like to go there. then perhaps i can still feel the body of your ghost in my arms.

loss did not break me; you did. loss is having known you at all. what i have been left with is grief, the skeleton of your laughter.

a sentiment or two

your words are in my mouth, but
i do not think of you anymore.
i do not think of the shape of your
skeleton, that have once haunted
my mornings, when the blood was
still fresh.

my mind is full of the history of you,
but i do not wonder if you think of
me every day. i do not think of you
anymore, & i remember what it was
like to put you on & be you and
now it is mine.

once upon a time we could have
been great together; now you do
not have me to shine for you. i do
not think of you anymore. so write
your sins & tragedies & find your
way back home.

HEARTBREAK, IN THEATERS NOW

you are a thousand meteors crashing into earth
pouring rain against my ice thin windowpanes
screaming thunder beating against my chest
rattling my nerve endings roaring my throat
sore you are the way imaginary numbers are not
real what metaphysicians dream to discover you
are lightning piercing down my spine
crackling down my frail bones.
you are winter nights in overheated college dorms
and thirty six hours in front of a laptop screen and
my touches between your shoulderblades you have
forgotten — you are the choice
between a thing that you will never touch only
see (i squared) (an algorithm) and me, and

you did not choose me.

all wounds

Sometimes, I do not believe
that you really happened.

There is no other world, where
you are still by my side, passing
laughs over to me like
we share the same air. Your
feet are on a different earth,
and when you look at the sky, it
is not mine. And it has been long
enough for the trees to forget the
carvings on their old bark, and
the width of your hips.

I do not know the sound
of your voice anymore.

across the table

Like the bottom of the sea,
you do not say the words
you want him to hear.

(4.
What was I to you? A
memory you forget
about a decade later
when success is a
familiar taste under
your tongue? The
bruisemarks under
your thighs that hurt
like a bitch, colored
yellow branded white
with my teethmarks
that I will never give you?)

(3.
Before you I did not know how to hate, but
now I have grown it at the insides of my throat
like I have learned to rip knives out from my
wounds.)

(2.
When will you look at me with
spite again? You are ugly in grey
scale, and I miss your accents, when
the ground of the world was beneath
our feet. I would like you to pretend
that I at least was pyrite,
or someone you regret
fucking over.)

(1.
Are you sorry?)

He is the sky,
the echo of you.

tomorrow looks like

so the world has not stopped turning and we have become
partners overnight. you signed my papers (i set you up) and we are
natural disasters, opposite hemispheres, and the earth
has not missed a beat on its axis. we are natural

disasters, your mouth touches my neck like the tiger in the
antelope, my legs your harp strings you play mercilessly, shamelessly,
around your thighs hips waists i open up for you but i am not at your
command (your name is at the roof of my mouth, signed by your tongue.)
we are oceans land sky we fight on mattresses across seas in

between your schedule and mine we make time we make time we make time
for me. when will you leave again? when will we be nothing but two
men who made the same mistakes again? you will leave me. i will
leave you. you will look at me like i have broken you, when it is your
scent in my sheets. and you will ask me for your heartbeat back when i cannot breathe. you will say i have
no heart (but

it is in your hands. your
absence is the wound in my lungs.)

the man behind the curtain

the ways I said I love you
are the ways you could not see.
in the way my eyes were at the side of your face
examining the angle of your jaw, the tone of your cheek, the slight slight
slight of your eyelashes before you blink. I would begin a line of code with you

{

and in it, were the beers you slid into my minifridge, the times you;
opened my door like it was yours binary code in your name and in my;
fingers itching for your mouth and eyes, your;
eyes and mouth;
on mine on mine on mine;

and sometimes when you were looking at the sky instead of me the taste of warm beer was the taste of you;
all cloudy and greylike like the grey of your storms;
while you were bright in the eye;

}

I was watching.
and I saw.
and I loved you.

error: error: error:
did you know?