I’m picking up the pieces of my tongue

Where my teeth missed the mark

Sinking bone into flesh

To alleviate the pain of words

Spoken too often in haste

Cleaving ideas with bitter thoughts

Of too many mistakes.

Raindrops

My thoughts are like raindrops,

Endlessly tapping,

Filling up and spilling over,

Overlapping and blending

Until everything is blurry.

Leaving trails upon my face,

I am forced to bite down on supposition,

Choke on hesitation,

And swallow pride until it coats my lungs.

I cannot breathe without tasting regrets,

And the sharp scent of copper

Settling on everything I ingest.

I cough up sentiments

With flecks of red and white and gray.

My thoughts are like raindrops,

And I am far from shore,

And I am far from sure,

When I will see clearly again.

I miss you,

Not like a bad habit,

Or a breath of air,

Or even a dream

Where I’m struggling,

Or straining to forget,

Or hide the tinges of blue

Lining my cheeks as I hold myself back.

No,

I miss you like someone

I barely know,

But wish I knew better.

I miss you like the sound of rain

When everything has been too harsh,

Too bright,

And my eyes are too tired to rest.

I miss you like the spaces

Between brushstrokes,

Where each one is defining

Not straining to make sense.

I miss you like the weight

Of a correct answer

Laid gently on the tip of my tongue

Which slips and stutters in a rush

To say your name.

To say I’m still here.

To say don’t worry.

But I bite down on my words

Even as they slip between my teeth,

Because my wants

Are not your needs

And missing you

Is better than making that mistake again.

Intimate Isolation

There is such intimacy in closeness,

To hear the sounds of the living,

Each individual breath

Catching at first,

Then settling into a rhythm,

Like a hitch within a storm,

The letting up of rain

Before a second downpour…

The rising and falling of the chest

And the grumbling of soft stomachs,

Like thunder in the distance.

Breathing individual scents

To get a sense of who they are,

What they do,

What they enjoy,

Is such a delight…

Warm honey, mingled with cinnamon.

Lavender,

A hint of jasmine tucked under the sleeve,

And the tracings of vanilla on the spine

Pooling into a collection of memories

And suppositions of where they were

Or could be.

The feel of warmth spreading through your chest,

Touching your fingertips,

Bringing them out of the isolation of each digit

Calculating each stroke and caress

Each pause,

Each mark on skin

Both indelible and yet forgiving…

Quieting the need to awaken,

And accepting the approaching calm

While stifling the flinch that arises

With each seemingly bated breath.

The taste of silence

On lips softer than the harsh reality

That dreams must be awakened from

But not now,

Not yet,

In this moment you can taste fleeting freedom

That latches on as tight as you,

For once…

Candied sweetness and yet,

Something more than temporary fullness,

A lingering weight,

But not a burdensome one

Rather a satiated cry for connections

You once thought were forever lost.

It took me four times

To even say “hello”

And now I can’t shut up.

I want to hear

Every greeting under the sun

Rolling off my tongue for you,

To speak in different palettes

And paint with every color I’ve imagined

Until you can see what I see in you.

It may only be

A crude reflection in

Jagged edges of paper cups

Overflowing with muddled compositions.

But I’m trying my best,

I promise…

Even as the words

Become muffled across the distance

I’m here.

You are are a woman of melting wax

With fire in your heart,

And hands,

And soul.

Who am I to box you up

To take you home

And call you candle

Or even light of my life?

One Last Look

A single glance

Through the rear-view mirror,

A reflection of a memory

Cast in a lighter shade than night,

Fumbling for a grip

And falling between the cracks of the seat

Where nimble fingers reach

But cannot find again.

Your smile like the ocean

So soft and so deep

Is a song

Of all the things

That I have been

And all the scenes

I’d watch again.

I’d save our reel

Till I’m asleep

I’d play our movie

For all my dreams

Till my pages are mere paragraphs

Sentences,

Mere fragments of what they once were.

Letters cast like dice in a hollow chest

Rattle off ribs

Stripped clean of anything to keep warm

Fresh ink staining the underside

Imprinting our story

For generations to read hereafter.

I’ll gather up the bones

And wrap them around us again

So we can see what we have built

Within these beating hearts

We call each other’s own.

Lying Awake

Before I met you,

I was used to lying awake

Hoping sleep would take me

As quickly as she could,

Wrapping herself around my fears

And choking my shuddering breaths

Until they were lost in quiet rhythm.

I wanted to let gravity bind me,

Slam me against a pile of pillows

And let the consciousness seep out

Until everything became muddled and blurred.

Now that I’ve met you

I am fighting her hold on me,

Lifting my eyelids

Like thousand pound weights

Dragging me to the depths of the sea.

I’m stretching against the jealous lover

Rowing myself through her beckoning waves,

Which once called me their own

Wanting nothing more,

Than to take away our time.

So though I may seem groggy in my smiles

Or miss my first three alarms

I would not have it any other way.

I Hate

I hate being the clingy one,

The one always in need of more love,

In need of validation constantly.

I hate my leaking heart

That pours out loudly

And creaks at all hours of the day and night.

I hate my aversion to silence

As everything echoes inside of me

To the point that I am suffocated,

As soon as I open my mouth.

I hate my anxious thoughts

That berate my soul and shave off any growth

Leaving nicks and bruises sensitive to the touch.

I hate these things,

But I know who I am.

I am not these things.

I am the heart that loves so much

That it wants such love in return.

I am the one who validates so fiercely

I can only expect the same.

I am the one who speaks so many kind words,

I should cultivate to my ears similarly.

I am always anxious for others’ growth,

I should be able to have my own.

These are not selfish things.