There is always someone

Better for you than me.

I am a much better friend

Than I could ever be a boyfriend.

I’ve spent much more time

In this position.

I’ve gotten comfortable

I know the field.

Here you only have to trust me so far

And I the same with you.

At the end of the day

We sleep in separate places.

And I try not to remember

That I can’t forget anything about you.

My heart is a graveyard

And all the headstones read “vacancy”

A sight both full and empty

Full of all the things I never wanted

And empty of anything that ever mattered

It’s 7 AM in a dental office

The sun is low and sky hazy

A slight chill hangs outside the window

Like an uninvited guest.

A mother walks in

Child in tow

Like a worn cable

Pulling a disused train.

And the lone figure

Heretofore unmentioned

Is no longer alone,

But three.

The sound of crinkling

Echoes a forsaken meal

And beady, quiet eyes widen

In longing.

An unspoken approval passes

A concession given

Satisfaction expressed in a crunch.

I silence myself with more words

Than I can carry

A stranger’s voice I once knew

To be my own

Working tirelessly to sew my lungs

And thread my ribs with regret

Laying bricks on my back like a

Home I’ll never see.

I stammer with each breath I miss

Like seconds tangled in passageways

Unkempt

Unclean, unabashed, unabated…

Unwanted

Words flourish like dandelion seeds

And all the world’s a darkened grove

A vineyard stripped of purple, blue,

And green.

Your heart is a catacomb in Venice

Haunted by memories you buried within

Specters and ancient bones

Brittle with age and riddled with holes.

Your heart is a library in Alexandria

Lost to the sands of time

And fires indifferent to your worth.

Your heart is a toll road

Charging passers by for a scenic detour.

Your heart is your own.

Stop my tongue before I speak

Shudder my mind at my own feelings

Prickle my flesh with mere intentions

Mere visions or illusions of action

Apparitions borne on nightly air

Torn down in exorcism of belief.

Who or what am I to such express

To sketch or trace or hum

Such art in circumstance

Or stay your fear with my own?

Your reflection does not echo

Your mind

And your heart is torn by

Incongruent form replicated

By in-compassionate genetics

While those around you

Scream with voices

Criticizing the only choice that’s yours.

In their eyes you see rejection

The lines of their lips whispering

Disgust

When all you want

Is to see yourself

As you truly are.

Lot 659 ladies and gentlemen

One heart, slightly used but whole

To the highest bidder

Full of music, laughter, and soul.

I love you like an upside down cup

Uncomfortably catching every drop

And watching helplessly

While experiences spill over

Filling up our designated time together

With awkward grasps at neatly placed handles

Each facing the right direction

At the wrong time.