december.and when they take meto the morgue,will you see the differencebetween my skin and the sheet?and when they close my eyesplease be standing over me,so that your facewill be the last thing they see.and when those tears falldown from your facepour them on my lips,so i can take you with me.and when they look awaycaress my bloodless face,give me one last gush ofwarmth.and when they bring the casketgently tuck me away to sleep,read me one last storyfrom that book atop the shelf.and when they place me in the ground,beneath six feet of dirt,leave your footprints in the snowand please don't let them melt.and when I fall to helli'll be waiting at the gates,but darling please take your timethere is no need to rush.
happily ever after? not really.cinderella is dead,prince charming,because you read other storiesand just couldn't keep your handsfrom tangling in rapunzel's golden hairor caressing aurora's sleeping face.
midnight express.i would never wantto live forever,so tell Deathwhen he comes for youto stall the trainbecause i'm going too.
you don't need stars with city lights.i love the city,because you introduced us.your apartment was on wycliffe avenue,a rectangular gray-brick buildingthat was our make-shift castle.i could stay up all nightsitting on the fire-escapeand watch waves thrash within the harbor.long after midnight fledand we were still curled upon your couchmy parents would call to ask me where i was,even though they already knew.late night sirensand insomniac car horns,mixed with your measured breathingbecame a lullabythat lured me to sleepadmists the ivory sheets.i would always wakejust before dawnand wait for the sun to riseso together we could watch you awaken.and even as i said goodbyei was leaving my jackethanging on the kitchen chairjust to have another excuseto come back.
friday night.on our firstdate,you took me to a cemeteryjust outside of town.i guess you wanted toshow mewhat you would do to me.
some words on bones.and you would always traila gentle fingertipalong my thinly veiled ribsthat rose up to the surfacewhen i inhaled your world.i loved the way your hipboneswould protrude with marble gloryas you lay upon your backand dreamed all the whilewe stayed and watched the stars.it was upon my collarbonesthat you left tender trailsof reddish-purple bruiseswhose presences made us laughin the morningwhen we saw your lips' footprints.the sharp and defined lineof your perfect jawalways left me speechlessas i watched them hingeeverytime you spoke,i guess my wordsgot sucked into your throat.you said that the bonesin my handwould always quiver when i got nervousso you grabbed my fingersand held them tight"structure," you whispered;and now that structurecrumbles.so maybe when we diethey'll pile our bones togetherand grind them into sandthat blows along theshores.
i hope you remember to bring the flowers.the stars whispered lateone nightas we lay beneath theirgrandeur."what if i die today?" you asked.and i told you in that case,i'd see you by tomorrow.
They Call This Drowning.We fell in love;A deep and surgingwatercolor seawith lilac waves thatwrestled with our ailingbodies,and azure air that choked ourlungs.We were in over our heads.
saturday night.last night i found youlying beneath the stars,the rain had washed the dirtout of your grave.
rain.i still have buckets in my roomfrom when you poured your heart out.plastic pails full of pain and loveand lust and tears and names and smiles.i don't know why i keep them...maybe i hope one day you'll come backto claim them.or when i'm being really dumbi let myself hope that you'll come back anywayfor me.
i'm not going to lie and say she was perfect.her skin was spotted with what she passed off as freckles,but what were really scars from a thousand summer sunsas she ran about outside,climbing trees and treading rivers,pretending to be an american bomberin the midst of WWII.she kept crimson stains on pearl pink lips,which always had the habit of getting on her teethbecause she put on make-up after dressing in her carand ordering coffee in every way she hated itas she drove to the record store three times a day,ignoring her job downtown.she owned four and a half hairbrushes exactly,i took count on the first night i stepped into that whirl-wind room,though her lopsided up-dos of messy blonde hair revealed just how much her fingersnever broke the dust.she had these lovely fragile handsthat showed each and every vein and bone,the type of hands made for tearing boys like me apart.how could i have even expected to survive,a paper poetheld against a reckless flame?
you remind me of clouds.when the air is warm and the sky is tintedwith that rosy death of the midday sun,the clouds are all scattered like your thoughtsand carefree as your smile...and they seem so soft,just like your fingertips.when the air is cool and the sky is shadedwith that blue-gray hue-a reflection of the ocean-the clouds are huddled from the windand tremble as they release tears,their sadness reminds me of us.when the air is suffocating and the sky is drenchedin that rich velvet darkness,there are no clouds in the sky.this is when they remind me the most of you,because they've gone,too.
Empty Pages.You are the perfect story,A plot unfurling from your touch,And poetry in your eyes.You speak with golden glory,Into sentences of hate,And promises of lies.You are the bookI never had the words to write.
how to love a boy who is lost.falllike you're jumping from a cliffinto a thrashing sea whose waters you cannot tread,dive into their depths and fill your lungs with waves.just don't close your eyes,because you have to search for him.feel your weight drag you to the bottom,feel the ocean embrace youand don't be afraid of that pounding in your chest.each heartbeat is sonara signal calling him and his calling you.learn to swim nowif you drown you cannot save him.swim to the fallen cities,the submerged castlesand maritime gardens.there you'll find him,lost in thought and studying the fish.i hope you saved some oxygenso you can breathe during the kiss.
You Kill Me the Way Books Do.You are all literatureis to me,your mind encompasses thebeautyof the whole earth.Your gentle eyesnarrate the greatest storynever told,and your ivory touchwrites the perfect poem.When you smile you area prince,adorned by golden crowns.When you cry you becomethe tragic hero,the martyr of the play.You are all the wordsthat fill each book,and I am the humble readerjust wishing you knew Iexist.
Flawed Canvas.Your lipsleft watercolorstainsall across my heart.My blood isn't evencrimson anymore,its a pale and dyinglilacthat bleeds onto the floorand paints a pictureof you.
against my psychiatrist's wishes.you always gave me rosesthat dripped from pages inwatercolor sinand fell onto the poemsi slipped into your hand.together we'd lieas each petal and word would slowly wilt,with shut eyes and frozen lips,all enveloped in lilac smokefrom our stained and burnt outhearts.
bon appetitshe extracts her heartfrom her cavernous centerlike a no-good tooth.coughing, she serves it upon fine painted ceramics.he lifts his fork,spears the meat.chewing, jaw swaying,he samples a bite.then he frownsand spits intohisnapkin.
OsteophilicHe loved his bones.The way they never asked too much of himor protested his requests.There was nothing superfluous in their design;simple, sleek, and uncomplicated.They were spry, robustready to take on the world withsharp and fluid motions.His bones were not brittle like she was.Not so breakable or frail,not so expendable.They didn't bend under pressureor fracture under stress.He loved his bones -their ivory purity eased his soul -and he was proud of the waythey held everything togetherso effortlessly.She knew one day he'd stomp thisold flame out, long before 'death do us part.'Cremation had never been part of the plan.
10.04Sometimes I wonder, if I wasan iris,beautiful but blue,withered in the summer wind-would I blend into the skylike the clouds drifting betweenthe rays of sun-or would I resemble the dark currentsin the night seabestowing the sailors with wonder and death
I Loved A GirlI loved a girl – she smelled like August melancholy,sweeter still,she carried the scent of festival emotions,tempered by the midnight flamesand fireflies' glow.I loved a girl – her hair, the gentle hue of embers,reflected dancing candlelight,while in her eyes, as brown as mahogany,I discovered tiny galaxies,but most importantly – I saw my smile.I loved a girl – I sensed her heartbeat,playing to the rhythm of my breath.Her every word,imprinted tender cherry blossoms,onto my soul.I loved a girl – her lips tasted like morning aircool against my heavy forehead,her skin, softer than satin threads,played games with the waning moonbeams -its gravity, I could not resist, like the Sun,cannot escape the zenith, on Summer solstice.I loved a girl – she made me happy,and sadly - I love her still.
Feardeath came tappingon his window(there's nothing to fearhe's gone now)
i didn't hold on tight enoughI held onto you so tightbecause I was afraid of letting you go,but you slipped out of my armswhen I wasn't looking.
.i think you know of hair wound tight round a hand like ropeof thoughts that sail in and let down anchorin the night, sleep drifting away on the black tide,i think you know of god up in the crow's nest, keeping watchhis eyes have rolled at us so much they rattle, loose nowin their pits like marbles, they say he knowsi have examined the slides of my childhood, uprooted my body,yanked myself out of my years with my own gloved handlike a weed and stared in disgust, it's only naturalthat you should still want to sleep with one arm overyour head, she said, don't you think?i think the sun lit upthe world's scarsand felt bad, hung its headthrough the horizonand cried in shamenow i don't think it's evergoing to stop raining(i am holding up my mind, i am shoving it in your face)
4/8i place a shellon your knee- it'sa silent plea for you to ask mewhy i'm looking at you likethat,and i would have told youthat it's becausei love you.i would have told youhow i lovethe way your hair curlsupward, like one massive cowlick and how i love your onedimple, the slope ofyour nose and the space where your collarbones meet. but you smiled andslid it into yourpocket, which is okaytoo.
NothingI heard someone sarcastically sputter,"You are what you eat."But hearing that sole sentenceallowed me to finally understandwhy I amwhat I am:Nothing.
.and this beating in my chestmight just be the banging of someonetrying to break free.
jigsaw puzzle.i found you as brokenpiecesscattered about the ground,all mixed upin the dirt.it took some time,but i did tryto reassemble your body and mindand to mend that velvetheart.i didn't have the boxto go bybut i think the outcomeis beautiful.