lush.you're all the "him, he, his"More Like This
in every poem i write.
every star i watch,
especially the ones i wish upon as they fall,
holds your somber reflection.
you're every cube of ice wrapped up in a mint green cloth
you held against my shoulder
on the spot where some random face pushed me against the lockers.
every time it rains
i swear a smidge of your soul is falling from the sky,
maybe that's why i love to run outside with wheelbarrows of buckets
to catch and hold each drop.
sometimes it snows in this dreadful southern wasteland.
the earth is covered in specks of your grated skin;
ivory crystal so cold my hand goes numb,
so i can't feel the electric shocks from a handful of embracing midnight movie marathons
of low-budget dramas that we always just ended up acting out ourselves;
we never had any money to spend on tickets to the real movies,
we poured all our cash and coins into the old register at that used bookshop.
need i say that you were every line i read,
every syllable stained onto tho
twenty-fourthere are good remindersMore Like This
like your scent threaded through my sheets
then there's the bad
like the bruise on my cheek
Dear Edgar Allan PoeMemory is a bridge,More Like This
and those brave enough to walk it
become Atlases ‘neath a sky
that only wants to fall
avoidance making hollow
the planks you tread, and your soul—
oh, your soul!—just a catacomb
of roots you could not plant.
Oh take heed, dark poet,
for pluming words do not create,
and raven minds do not support,
For memory’s a bridge,
and I have died a hundred times
trying to forget it.
october bluesi'll have you knowMore Like This
that i burnt both of my
to light a lighter
so i could smoke you
out of my lungs.
note to selfparent? check.More Like This
when all's said and done,
don't be too busy to
there's still yourself left to love.
Insomniac At times,More Like This
when you're up at night in bed,
wrapped in your sheets,
if the thought of me
wraps you up, too.
about friendsi. don't trust anyoneMore Like This
bitter and condescending
not willing to open up to anybody for any reason
people will always just break your heart in the end.
ii. pouring your heart out
mi familia son mi amigos
which means once i care about you
there's no going back.
iii. relying on them
they are the reason you get up in the morning
and why you don't kill yourself
and why you want to.
iv. betrayal can be inevitable
sometimes you're just never good enough and
sometimes people can wake up and decide
they don't love you anymore.
v. healing is hard
you get so sick of trying all the time
shaking when you pass them in the hallway
but you have to get over it.
vi. then the cycle
the lace curtains drowned in the rain.you told me i wasn't allowedMore Like This
to write poems about you anymore.
but it's like when my doctor tells my hands
not to shake;
i can't control it.
those who lie behind eyelidsi. benjamin iMore Like This
we watched silent films.
you bought an excitable child sweets
with money you couldn't spare.
i often wish
you were still
we hid devotion
in quiet moments.
i had always mocked those
who claimed that
innocence is bliss,
your innocence was blissful.
nearly four years past
but you're still so present
a specter spectator
lying arrogant, indolent
on the sidelines of me;
chaining me close.
v. benjamin ii
your lips were always dry
and you gave up too soon.
when you left, i spent
forty-six sleepless nights
on the living room sofa;
i couldn't go near the bed.
you looked right through me,
searching only for the
in his eyes.
heaven closed up shop
when we passed by;
forever fell ill and fled.
i can't help but wonder
if i haunt your silences
the way you inhabit