The wounds of your betrayal
it seems
won’t ever properly heal.
I’ll always love
At best
With a limp.
Paralyzed and clogged with scar tissue
my heart occasionally
attempts to beat;
but somewhere along the way
I forgot how
to be alive,
how to want
anything at all.



I have to destroy something
I’ve already destroyed a lot
but I need more.
Screaming isn’t enough
tears aren’t enough
the ruin inside needs to get out
and be ruin in the world.
I need explosions,
pain, and blood. My own,


Your skin talks to me
tells me stories
of blood heat
and scent
the whispering touch
from across a room
that pushes your pulse
into my veins
until I blaze
with your light.
Your skin is
a map of the universe
that scar as fixed
as the sun, your
rise and fall like
the tides spreading
salt crystals blinding
my eyes. Your skin contains
me and you alike, so
I can shed mine,
breathe only you,
lay my gaze
across your shoulders
like a silk cloak,
and trace with wonder
the stories written there.


I like
to have
time to
think of
I like
to sit
and think
and I
like to
think of
I like
to think
of when
you liked
to think
of me.
When you
liked me
as you
know I
like you
Still I like
sit and
still I
think and
still I
like you

Before waking

In the seconds before waking each day
I think of you with joy
know we are connected
know we are together.
And I remember you are gone.
The crushed hope of the previous day
comes back, even while the hope for today
is forming. Knowing it’s doomed I birth it anyway.
I open my eyes each day
to a world blurred by tears
and my first breath is sticky with grief.