you wrote it down,
what he looked like in the
moonlight
on summer nights miles from home
you get inside
staggering,
foot slipping on wood floors
then bathroom linoleum
the porcelain tub is unrelenting
but you fall asleep there anyway.
droplets clinging to your jeans.
can you even feel it anymore?
you wake up in the morning
neck ache to match your headache
sunlight burns your eyes
and you can’t remember
if you wanted to take a bath
or if you couldn’t make it to bed.
minutes later,
you’ve filled the toilet with remnants
of last night’s party
and you’ve downed two aspirin
washing it down with water from a cup
that you saw as half empty.
you find the napkin from the bar,
absent pen marks turn to words.
you wanted to remember
what he looked like in the moonlight
silhouetted in the pale glow.
you were both sticky with humidity.
there was a lack of breeze
in the middle of all of those trees
as he walked you from the party to the bar.
tiny clouds were scattered across the sky
but not once
did they fall across the moon.
and between his words,
the crickets and the katydids,
there was never a moment of silence.
however,
like dreams,
just because you wrote it down
doesn’t mean that you remember.
so you clench your fist,
napkin crumpled
words wrinkled,
hidden.
phrases incomplete.
you still remember what color his eyes are
but you can’t seem to picture
how they shown under celestial lights
and you can hear his voice in your head
but you can’t recall
what he said to you,
or what you said to him.
or if he held your hand
or if he kissed your lips...
you lie in bed
like laying in graves
at the end of each day.
head sick from the gin
or maybe from him
because lately, it’s become harder to tell.
last night’s clothes lay on the floor
like a body.  
you’ve turned all the lights off
pulled the curtains closed,
but even in the dark,
your sobering mind can’t remember
what happened last night.

i want to deconstruct everything i have always known about myself in hopes that ill find something worth saving

The first time you saw her,
she had drifted into your apartment
on the tail end of a gust of winter wind.
She was just tagging along as a friend of a friend.
Her starry eyes and half smile
were what got to you,
and they were enough to keep you around.
You caught a glimpse of her
reckless nightmare
almost immediately.
She was stuck in the middle of a
downward spiral,
and she took you along for the ride.
You couldn’t seem to find a reason for it.
She was just sad.
Her body was made up of
howling heart attacks
and incandescent suicide notes.
She was bad dreams,
a fractured spine,
lips hemorrhaging secrets,
and ******* shoved to the back of a throat.
She was laughter at four in the morning
and daisies in a hurricane
with dark hair and darker eyes,
all wrapped up tight in a skeletal frame.
She was your bulletin board of best kept secrets
that you covered with love notes.
You were always trying
to glue her broken pieces back together,
but her edges sliced your skin to shreds.
She did not want to be saved.

I hitched a ride on the tail end
of every bad habit that followed you around
as you walked with rocks in your shoes,
shuffling through,
making holes in your soles
to match the holes in your soul.
You typed your suicide note in italics
to get your point across,
but I couldn't let you go.

Lately
I’ve been looking for holes in our history books
The cause and effect that we missed
Like we missed each other
When we were sixteen and fighting.
The good news is that you’ve got big plans.
The bad news is that I can’t decide
What songs I want played at my funeral.
Take me back in time
To where we used to wait
With arms wide open
So I can try to convince myself
That you aren’t my favorite thing
I’ve got better things to do
Than remember everything about you

i learned the hard way that caffeine is not a substitute for sleep
and that i am addicted to the way you feel on my eardrums
and that i can't make myself disappear completely without dying.
you are a cold day in august with overcast skies
you are midnight and six in the morning and mid-afternoon.
you are the cracks in the ceiling and the stars in the sky
the smell before rain and thunder and lightning
electric and erratic and terrifying.
you are a blank slate and a new beginning
and i am screaming heart attacks and dry heaving suicide notes
at four in the morning.
i walk holes in my shoes daily like it’ll fix my insides
and knit every broken thing back together
while you saturate my mind with your intensity.
when we met, my veins were leaking loneliness
hemorrhaging bad ideas and harboring secrets.
hiding.
you were my safest place.
and rumor had it that drinking bleach would **** the thoughts in my head.
your words were amnesia.
my head forgot how to make me feel empty
when i wrote your name at the top of the next blank page in my journal.
i didn’t give a **** about gravity
until i fell into your orbit.

Love is not
A solution
But an equation.