poetry.

I think about your anger often

How maybe it was always there

How I know that my anger was

I Imagine you and I

and The creaking hinge that held us together

But how hard it was to pry us apart.

I think about how carefully I still let your name live inside my mouth

I wonder if I will forget you before the invention of time travel

Or if I will have to keep moving the hands on the clock myself just to get through this.

I wonder If all the words will mean something new by then.

I’ve wished away the dreams

Tossed out the nostalgia and the box I kept it all in

That way I couldn’t blame the past for haunting me because so much has already changed.

Time will craft a version of me you’ve never broken.

A future me with a robot heart and robot hands that is happier because I can no longer feel you like a phantom limb

I think about this future, happier, me and not about you in the present

not about how you still hold your fists like a cage fighter

how you still rattle me

and how the fight in you renders me invisible in a crowd

Me, now, standing in a crowd still rattled my teeth clenched as tight as your fists so I do not say your name

How present me is less lonely because I am not alone

But I am still lonely

Unwilling to fight back

How the match is always a draw

How we both walked away

And future me is thankful that I do not bruise so easily anymore

When future me thinks about your anger and your fists and your name, they will loosen my jaw

I will not think about time or how holding on to it cannot make it stop

It will be easier to say I still love you because of all the new words meaning something else.

Future me will not care that you have always heard I love you and thought it meant something else.

And when I say I’ve wished away all the dreams it will be because the sleep comes like it should.

The sleep just means sleep and I won’t have to pretend the empty side of bed is yours.

Empty will mean healed.

And I hope you know that every version of me wishes away your anger, like the dreams, into a future where both are at peace.

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in the nightmares

if you could call them that

I am sitting in your window alone

not alone as if you are not home

it is no longer my home

but alone as if you are gone

a weight of suffocating grief

in the nightmares I sit silent

praying for divine amnesia

to take it all back if I could

because what if,

that August night had stolen you

in a way that night in spring had not

and after the nightmares

I wake, weeping all over again

until we stand at opposite street lights

a weight of suffocating grief

as we both walk home

neither of us alone.

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I sent her into every one

of my lightening storms

with a key in one hand

and an umbrella in the other

strike first &

save her (from me) later

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phase two.

I dug up every land mine

every photograph

every memory

With my bare hands

Then cut my nails until

There’s was nothing left of you

Underneath them.

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I’m the last to tie myself down to anything.

My mouth cuts kite strings mid-flight.

I’m a connoisseur of ways to walk away, a magnet with no hold.

But I am still stuck to our memories like a wall of post it’s notes

and every single one just says “courage, dear heart. you love her”

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ladyfest piece… {roughest draft}

a memoir in instagram captions

the story goes,

a kiss turned paper airplane

advice sewn from my grandmother’s quilt.

a chronology of self preservation

a body more wreckage than relic

(pause)

I told  you I was a fist full of flowers

a tin can telephone between galaxies

a recital of hushed apologies

a seashell held to your cheek

(pause)

all I meant was that theres a difference between patience and learning to wait

like, time and I were in no hurry

how the softness never meant breaking,

though it did leave a mark

Like a bare knuckle brawl

We never stopped swinging

I digress.

(pause)

the story goes,

forgiveness is history’s bitter rival

heavy words rock climbing up your throat

in the expanse of little moments,

me, wading through a barefoot land mine

(Pause)

midnight watched us shape shift

(pause)

I told you that in my dreams you were a drop of water

a dizzied apologist

both an absolute shape and

an infinite space to be swallowed in

that this was the widest I could stretch my hands and still catch you

this was the gentlest I could pluck the secrets from your hair without out knotting them.

a game of tug a war

and all I meant was this was not friendly fire if both our weapons were drawn

I’m more philosopher than thief

with a flower in the barrel of your violent quiet.

and maybe one day I can write a metaphor big enough to unhinge the truth from your jaw

with my pick pocket mouth

I digress.

I will still write you a safety net exit

a mediocre ending

the lyrics to a Joni Mitchell song on a bathroom wall

the goodbye… intrepid.

and the story will go,

a kiss on the forehead

engine smoke and dimmed tail lights

a blanket of un- wished upon stars

empty page after empty page

(pause)

Because isn’t every story, a love story about something.

no matter the mess we have made.

You say, love shouldn’t require this many words

and I say, won’t I make it sound pretty any way

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