you ask me how to write a poem.

and instead i wish i could leave my body for a better place
far away from the world that knows me
for what is knowing, truly?
i show you facets of my soul, sure
but even i do not know their true extent
the rivers run too deep
mixing with ichor that spells out stories in oblivion

it’s like we’re always in free-fall
some in between
where life and death blur together and become one
a tip off the edge
a dive into a pool
the same, really

and we tumble and we tumble and the bubbles rise above to create some brand new world we never knew could exist. reach up and point at the fish, but careful, careful, don’t tap too hard, we’ll break. let the wonder fill your tearful eyes, let the cold seep in and become everything you are. and then, only then, can you pick up a pen and spill your being on the page.

shift your weight
steady, steady now
and still
the balance of an arabesque
some thing you’ve become, tied with strings bled from the mind of a father
and you reach
as he does
for the self-strung hope dangling over the edge.
then you tip.
and you fall.
and he stays, up on his cloud of majesty
high above the sun and the stars and everything he wanted
(oh how he wanted)
to hold dear.

hello,
hello,
her fingers are shrouded in my hair
spilling memories from lips cold of morning coffee
her eyes are made of it
i take them as i cup her cheek
and brush away her past with a gentle touch

hello,
hello,
day by day we meet
and i watch her soul crown her in frost
she’s beautiful
light flows out of her as she turns
i reach for her hand and leave

hello,
hello,
time and time again
ice numbs where the needles drove past her skin
weaving her veins in gold
and still she stands
an anchor in the blizzard

hello,
hello,
she’s still
waiting for me
but i no longer
wish to come
please leave her be

hello,
hello,
i can’t help it
they’ve bound us so
and so i take her hand
a final kiss
and
close
her
eyes.

hello,
hello,
hello.

my namesake
by intent?
no, no

did you see them from the cracks in the walls
the fire that laced your words
extinguished
to be held by another

for how can we complain?
your soul, woven from tulle
into a tippet we use to shield ourselves
or perhaps a veil

yet a veil from the other side
showing us the things we can’t see
and rendering us blind
to those we can

bend back the truth and make it hurt.
i want the sting across my cheek of your words because mine are never good enough for me.
i want the truth of the moment to shock me to my core, to freeze my soul, to make my eyes sputter out and my nose to bleed and stain the pages of this really ******* good romance novel because blood makes everything so much more real, doesn’t it? i want you to disappear and find me in my dreams like a banshee, to make it so you are never forgotten, an always present voice in my ear reminding me of what there used to be.
i want    what there used to be.

but that doesn’t exist anymore
after all, time is never ending and the length of a millipede so how can i dare to question it? for if i do then must i also question the empire state building and the size of my heart and the oxygen in my veins that now escapes with the pooling guts that line my body, laughing and crying and still on the water-stained rug in the bathroom.

To think that this pain became nourishment.
They drink it up, you see them.
Fertilizer for the future
waiting under the oaks that grow from our eyes.
Our stories become theirs, taken by time, and then taken again, but no, not writ in the stars.
We wait in the soil while they rise to a world of their own choice.

To think that we, who created so many, do not choose our own end.
Fated to trip on a fell tree, destined to die alone in a shrouded cloak?
Our breath brought unity and hope
but its absence brings us only despair.
The us is important there.
They still have what’s left.

To think that our remnants are crumbs between book pages
Coffee stains on tables, worn
with love but tired still.
We stabbed our arteries for an ink well
Wrote ourselves deep into the paper.
We gave it all up for them, but we loved ourselves all the same.

To think that while they can ascend to heaven
we must fall down to hell.

Oh, the curse of a truth-telling tongue.

if all the universe is entangled
if we are all opposites in order to exist
intertwined
we are tied, we are
victims of fate, bound
by the very nature of the impossible
but measuring renders particles split apart
cut that crimson thread that binds us
for we know our truth
the probability
            the possibility
now certainty
ceased to exist
and so once again we’ll search
left in a maze
left in the dark
my tears won’t reach you
and your scars won’t be mine