circumsolem

you grew a sunset in my heart; afterwards you promptly closed your blinds.

the same day my hollow eyes first stroked your golden hair i lost my pocketwatch i thought that it would be so hard to accomplish the essentials without the gentle guidance of my clock-friend but who really cares if you burn your cookies or are late for math class when your eyes can finally shine, and not from tears if your eyelashes can suddenly absorb and radiate light and if your hands stop shaking thanks for freeing me. i'd give you all my time but you already have it

This poem looks Like your favorite shirt that shrank after the wash Like a pile of unwashed dishes It looks not ready but red-ish It looks not sexy but sex anyway (with the lights off) Like unintentional swollen bellies It looks like moldy cheese and running ink. It looks like yellow teeth smiles by intoxicated men. This poem sounds Like that asshole that honks his horn outside your window at 2 AM. Like your significant other telling you “they want to talk” Like a pocket watch that stops ticking Like the clicking of tight, tight handcuffs Like a heart monitor that hiccups and sings a single, slurred note It sounds like weeping m

Even though the white sunlight is spilling through the blinds in perfect parallels across my chest, it will never match neither the softness of your touch nor your hot-chocolate warmth. Yesterday you stole the sky. I wouldn't have noticed if your eyes weren't as striking blue as the atmosphere itself

It’s time to turn my life around [I’m turning in my bed] It’s time to think of happy things [there’s darkness in my head] The shower’s warm, it’s very nice! [it’s burning my red skin] Breakfast’s an important meal [I need to get more thin] Good morning stranger, how are you? [my smile is a fake] The weather is so nice today! [please leave, for heaven’s sake] Working keeps my mind alert [alert enough to see] Take a break by running now! [already hard to breathe] I have some homework I should do [I think I’ll sit and moan] Maybe it’s time to go to sleep [alone alone alone] Brush

You opened galaxies in my chest And said that there were stars in my eyes. You found my long-lost self-esteem In the same solar system that was also hiding my best judgment. You discovered a new planet, And I wished that you could live there With me. But it’s funny because I’m not your only milky way. You’ve detected more black holes In all the broken girls you keep Than Jupiter has moons. Your scientific contributions Deserve a nobel prize. Thanks, you foul— I was drunk on your moonshine. It's upsetting to think that I believed your filthy [beautiful] fable-lies. My fractured heart yearned for a source of gravit

I wish you didn't have to dig your dirt-caked fingernails into my brain with your smiling eyes and fake skin Your crazy mind and stick thin arms around my neck make it hard to breathe; they’re such a goddamn nuisance when my lungs are already filled with your liquefied Sorority Status. If I could spit out our memories into your pretty face I would and I'd rub them in with my own barbed-wire heart. Don’t you know that other people want happiness too and that they can’t achieve it while your Dumb hair is crawling down their throats? It felt like rusty nails were piercing my chest when you filled your gaps with cigarett

i told them that i could love myself.

I need more from you than two lips parted; hungry hands scrabbling at my sides. I need your limbs twined around my hopes and dreams - I need your fingers clutching for my soul.

she'll hold him tight tonight and dread the coming mo(u)rning

Skin apricot soft, slight crinkle fuzz, transparent and a-freckle, I am a buffet beneath him, My eyes sails buffeted by the winds of words slipping from his thick love lips - they are slick and wanted between his up and down breathing, lungs iron weighted on me and I am craving from the inside, his wired arms an addiction, he cups my constants like landmarks: his are the hands of a cartographer. My bones stream and bush-fire, stone and slow slipping riverside, He, the aerial pilot, graphite fingers insisting there is beauty in the blackest holes of the galaxy. I need not be found, yet still -     He finds me; My landmark man, my

, but he killed me. _ i. first light- i met you in a crimson forest.   it was a rose garden summer, and out of a black mercedes   you walked out, your five year old eyes greener than sunlit saplings you reached up to pluck a rose from its stem, and offered it to me. "what's your name?" daddy told me that i couldn't tell strangers my real name. I looked at the rose in my hand. "Rose." you smiled, you were a seastorm of now long-gone innocence. i didn't understand                          but I knew. ii. i forgot about you for    1562 days, 11 hours, and 22 minutes, you shouted my name, but i didn't recognize you until i saw your

we deflowered a virgin dawn, and let the day revel in pleasure

keep your eyes forward; you weren't meant to watch what you're walking away from

A letter to those who have not planned a funeral: My friends, let me explain - You know that he is dead, and that he wasn't always, but I'm not sure you understand what that means. It means the body that I washed and dried, the limbs I dressed - left foot, right foot, the bruises I kissed, the cuts I cleaned, the curls I deloused, the laces I tied - left foot, right foot, the body I taught to run, to swim, to ride a bike - the body that held the boy I called both brother and son, both child and friend, that body - laid on the pavement and twitched like a fox beneath a trembling P-platers windshield. That body, the body that held h

you buried me deep and called it a triumph, but you never realized - I'm a seed.

Crashing through a window headfirst, I litter the sky with tiny glass angels. If the sun hits them just right, look like little bubbles that could lift me up. Unseen arms wrapped around my chest, cutting into it, the way my smile digs tight into my lips. And in this moment I have become the author. Thirty stories below the end to a chapter, a final page written in tears, the point of colorful impact a period.