where do you fall when you fall in love?i see my voice curl toward the sky in crystal breathsas i stand beneath the stars and ask the gods"where do you fall when you fall in love?"and in the distant thunder roars as zeus clears his throat.lightening strikes to start a fireand in anticipation i sit by the flames as he begins his story."love," he says, "is the beautiful medicationthat we drink to still our pain,but often it is overdosedand we always end up crashinglike a star falling from my sky."as i watch the shadows dance about his faceaphrodite proudly walks to uswith her golden grace and emerald eyes."there's a kingdom," she says with ivory verse, "just below the seaand it awaits young lovers therewhere they drown for all eternity."at the mention of the sea, poseidon falls down to usfrom his chariot atop the cliff and in his booming voice he declares;"and in that cavern the butterflies are drenchedand with heavy wings they cannot flyso they suffocate the lovers."with the quietest gait of a clumsy fox
midnights always last longer than they should.i spend sleepless nights in my roomstaring at your picture on my mirrorand wondering why on earth someone as beautiful as youwould ever love someone like me,but then i rememberyou don't.
i thought it was permanent.i always took my pills,like a good little fuck-up,whenever you came around,so that when you fell onto my bedi could fall asleep next to you.i always pretended like we were dyinginstead of sleeping...but i guess one day you found your cureand had no need of dead boysanymore.
distilled.and i just can't get over the factof how much you taste like whiskeydrenched in rain.you're bitter and sharp and snide and wildand i know just how far i should run awayand erase those periwinkle eyes,but all i want to do is stand outside with youat 3 amand drown.
-and all these yearsit was in the wrong placeI did search for you,because heaven is not the only placewhere an angel can be found.
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.
whispers.i was so hesitantto take your hand,because when you said you loved mei knew you meant itand that scared the hell out of me.
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.
saturday night.last night i found youlying beneath the stars,the rain had washed the dirtout of your grave.
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.
he loves me not.and i sat amidsta garden,but no matter how many petalsi plucked,you still did not loveme.
.the stars rock themselvesto sleepthere is nothing left;they have peeled the moonlike a ripe fruit, coilsof pearly skin draping the hills,only god knowswhat they did to her core,where they buried her seedsin the earth(i put my ear to the ground now and listen, for her children in their wombs of dirt)
midnight express.i would never wantto live forever,so tell Deathwhen he comes for youto stall the trainbecause i'm going too.
lush.you're all the "him, he, his"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 clothyou held against my shoulderon the spot where some random face pushed me against the lockers.every time it rainsi swear a smidge of your soul is falling from the sky,maybe that's why i love to run outside with wheelbarrows of bucketsto 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 marathonsof 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
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.
i'd haunt you if you'd like.my hands are paralyzed and you're waiting for me to touch your face,but that doesn't really matter because i'd rather touch your souland if you close your eyes long enough i'll read you poetry as we lay atop the monkeybarsin this old and rusted parkyou can pretend to know the constellations and point them out to me and i'll tell you they're all beautiful, but nothing compared to youif i'm lucky you'll blush and laugh at me,tell me i say the dumbest things but deep down it'll register in your soul just how much i love youand i know they say you can only save yourself, but darling i swear if you'll just have the slightest bit of faith i'll save the fuck out of you or i'll destroy myself trying,because i honestly can't think of any other purpose for my lifeor what smidge of it i've been able to hold on to.
*and in that timewhen i shall die,wilt and float away,placed upon the pedestalfor judgement day,i hope god steps asideand let's you read my namefrom forth the golden pages.i cannot imaginea more beautiful sentenceto hell.
meadows.you only ever picked dead flowersbecause you wanted to leave the living onesfor others to admire...i guess that's why you chose meover everyone else.
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.
42you should neverlove a poet, do not trustthem with yourheart - love may betheir language, butthey are always best atbreaking.
I saw the tornado in your eyesSo you learnt to hide your hurricanes,You hushed your storms silent,And hid the seams in your bruised heart,You found cracks beneath your gentle smile.(G.L)-I saw the tornado in your eyes
please don't leave without them this timeWaitdon't you wantall these littlepieces of you?I've beenkeeping them safein my heart.
.and this beating in my chestmight just be the banging of someonetrying to break free.
these bitter kids have sharper hipsoh, i am aching to pry apart this skull &meet the ghosts thumping at its insides.i'm just pining for a rib cage like afuneral pyre or a staircase;i want to bloom from thesebitter bones & waste -(until i'm the corpsesleeping in the casket)
.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)
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;like the ink scratchesof plath, i ama diamond-dreamerstraw-stitchedspecter boy: decay,dispose, & disappointbecause this is the waythat writers wane -(this hangman head is nosurvivor story, & godsdo not burn outin supernovas)
.and if you evermanage to get inside myhead, i'll wish you luck
x.i want your ghostto haunt me,every memory of you.let them flood meand drag me down;drown me in yourname.fill my lungs,i'll take the painat least you gave mesomething.