let her have her way. the grass trails behind her. blades sliding through the cracks between her fingers. she looks on as the sun rises. light flickering across the earth. her feet ***** from the ground. shadows fall from branches. the ferns in her eyes fade out.
can you remember the blue before i met you? that great, wide open space? how could i have stayed?
i held your hand. i gave you everything.
pieces of your skin are still falling from me. the dust settles on the leaves that i've grown in my chest. you planted seed after seed.
it's been tough to **** you out.

i close my eyes and dip my hands in the water. the freezing cold reminds me of those days with you. wanting to pull away but sinking further in until i'm numb.
you've been hard to wash off.

blessed are those who inherit the earth.--

your black eyes put the fear of gods in me.
i've lost fingertips trying to rip you out.
you stand so tall like the moon, your light-- borrowed
from the sun.
i'm saving my breath for that day. the stars say to run.
you pull shadows behind you, longer than the love
i've had for you.
my bones ache and crack.
you took everything.
my body can never be mine again.

blessed are those who lie with their lungs and love through their teeth.

she did it.  
her teeth eaten.
tongue swallowed.
mouth made vestigial.

words: in the miscellaneous drawer, pls.

guts move quicker than light or thought, i've found.
caught in the (thoroughly) dusty
ceiling blades of
ergh quotidian spins, whyyyeff.my.life

she -somehow-
drew in
this awe, for now.

ellipses feed feed,
till it says it all
without uttering
one silly little
syntactical arrangement,
ever again; this, her stir.

dot dot dot
dot dot

and with a few
small jots felt,
she wrote

my hurt
down.

joy, again: like a note passed in class.

slipped glyph.
this and that; wracked
in some silly, heady
packrat skyscraper
of leaning light.

then's flicker of vague regret hangs around, because life.
because letting go is never really, ever, fully possible.
misremembrance -now- retracing my..

it was
as though
you had written,
signed and
sealed those
few words
themselves,
with your own
blood and bone

and yet i
can-
not recognize
my own
penmanship
anymore,

nor this, here,
outstretched hand.

howamievenhere?

*because a winged thing, other,
has this history
by the tail,

and your thoughts are not your own