"

i feel sort of temporary about myself.

did you know viruses settle on a cell and will slowly work their way in before multiplying? at some point the membrane can no longer support the new organisms and the cell will explode.

i’m writing you a poem that you will never hear in a language that sounds like wilting flowers, i am standing in an elevator with my tongue pressed against the roof of my mouth like it’s trying to hold hands with the words caught in my throat, i’m penning you a saga that hiccups like that time you drunkenly informed me that i was your future, that flows like fingertips across skin mountains, that kisses black coal into blushing, i’m texting you exactly four words: where did you go?

isn’t it funny how four words can be a poem

i am missing you in every moment like you are air and i am drowning, i am missing you with dreams that are slowly dissolving, i am missing you in an elevator where a man who smells like ranch dressing is breathing down my neck and trying to surreptitiously cop a feel and

the truth is - the truth is, you never come to these things. you never want to hear my poetry. it’s as if my hands are so saturated in ink that you have gotten tired of being touched, of being made dirty

maybe it’s that i couldn’t love you quietly, maybe it’s because poets vomit their emotions and hold up the messes for reading, maybe it’s that i used to think the occupation of professional wordslinger sounded like a rodeo until i met someone who hated being made into a cowboy

where did you go. round eyes and an empty heart, we were blank slate children with water instead of blood, the milky white of our eyes diluted by the galaxies of champagne we swallowed to celebrate dying,  i am falling behind in these trenches - i am left without love, you are burning the bridges i splintered my hands to build we were never starcrossed were we, we were just an ugly black hole of feeling absolutely NOTHING we tore each other to shreds with a fervor that sounded like hoofbeats, we were the apocalypse, we were all four horses, we were doomed from the start

and i know that i mean nothing to you and i know that when i see you again, our bones will reconnect like continents and i will let you back into my bed

i think i love you because the way you hurt me gives me something to write about. i think i love you because when i was little i used to see how fast i had to spin before i could make myself sick. i think i love you because i am fascinated by viruses.

the truth is - the truth is, you’ll never hear this.

good. you hate it when my poetry makes things complicated.

"

"if you consider a woman
less pure after you’ve touched her
maybe you should take a look at your hands"

"Sunshine all the time makes a desert"

"Edit your life frequently and ruthlessly. It’s your masterpiece after all."

"I think it’s very healthy to spend time alone. You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person."