fragments from the year part iiiMature


Each cycle of the moon brings me closer to you.
I can taste the rain on the air and I know tomorrow
will be a day I need to wear layers; to peel them off
like I shed my skin, hoping to find something fresh,
something new and whole, within the mess.



Staunch this gushing - this over-induglence
of language spilling from my lips like blood or
water, burning my throat like broken promises or
the only evidence of this bad-blood between us.
Where did I get this sickness?



how many scars do i have to have
before i bleed out all this poison?
i was born rotten, stained from inside.
i drank peroxide in my dreams
and it finally cleansed me.



We welcome the night,
we linger in it’s embrace
and take our time tasting the air.



Fingers hitch, hands grip -
a thousand foot drop and
you’re starting to slip.



fingers dig into skin.
we’ve gotten so good at this.



I’m going to have to pull you out like rotted and broken teeth.
Your roots have sunk in deeper than my DNA.



all that remains of you
are a few stray fingerprints
left in my plaster.



I am in physical knots
over this.  You are an ache
that cannot be soothed and
every day you spread farther.
I’m pressurized and you’ve
locked up my release valve.
It’s not my fingerprint
it’s waiting for, anymore.



You are heat and life and
I am withered and weary and
the safe distance between us
is exhausting to keep up, constantly
fighting against myself to 
keep from reaching out to you.



this love is weathered,
worn to perfect fit against
our awkward, jagged bones.


I am the lipstick stain on the inside of your shirt collar.
You are the muddy impressions of work boots on my carpet.
We are the convoluted excuses pouring from our lips.


we are beings of the ether;
inconstant like the winds
and mercurial like the tides.



The End

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