Purgatory

 I took a snapshot of him leaving

so I could prove that he’d been here. 

We were both substitutes 

for something else missing - 

An agreement 

between two lonely people

to close our eyes and pretend. 

The benefits of a broken friend. 

I blame it on you. 

You give an inch, I take it,

you jerk away as if I’ve 

demanded a mile, 

but I just wanted to see you smile. 

You’ve got me chasing ghosts,

Grasping at fleeing moments,

Trying to measure out the value in 

an empty promise. 

But then your eyes meet my eyes

from across a crowded room,

and dammit, I must admit,

I don’t know how to handle you. 

I’m not jealous of the others,

because I’m the one who gets the drunken calls

at 2:03am when you’re driving home 

And you sit in your car, 

and we talk about the world, 

and our love, and our future. 

And when we say goodnight, 

you’re left with warming reassurance, 

and I’m left with ambiguity

that was almost beautiful. 

So he stops by again,

and we fix each others broken pieces 

the best that we can, 

but we both know it’s without meaning. 

He loves her, and I love you 

but she’s cold and you’re too scared

so we all linger in purgatory, 

trapped in between what is felt,

and what is said. 

The benefits of a broken friend. 

— 

Postmortem

 Postmortem 

How extraordinarily human, 

you saw something pretty

and couldn’t resist the desire 

to chop it down.

Carry it home, 

Put it on display until 

death chilled its bones. 

Sweep up the evidence,

Erase your tracks.

Discard the remains. 

Your alibi is airtight.  

In time, they’ll hang up their pitchforks,

the crowd will disperse 

The chants for justice

fade to whispers from ghosts. 

“It’s such a shame,” 

they sigh, and shake their heads 

“If she’d only listened, 

she wouldn’t be dead.” 

              …- - -…

Scattered through the garden soil,

reduced to ash and dust,

clinging to the world I crave,

I dream I was enough. 

If only dreams were enough. 

——

Gray

I operate in the gray 

but you were shades of gold. 

I knew that there was no way 

to blend our pigments

 but man, 

It sure looked pretty for awhile 

when we tried. 

Your best trait is you’re kind,

your worst enemy is your mind. 

I trace my name on your skin,

listening to your soft breaths in and out,

as I drink in

these stolen moments I’ll never forget. 

Run my fingers through your hair,

your lips on my chest, drawing my sighs

and I’m okay with the fact that  

you are the one that I’ll never forget. 

But I operate in shades of gray,

and you, in gold. 

We’ll never mix, 

but I’ll compliment 

while you learn to shine bright 

and I’ll blend back in with the shadows. 

a taste of toxic

 i guess i've always been drawn
to the chaos and drama, to the trauma
and the taste of toxic
so bittersweet on my tongue
and my lips, chapped from his skin.
I guess there's no wonder,
no way to deny
that it's probably why
when I look in those clandestine eyes
it sets a part of my soul on fire. 

It isn't love.

Hell, it isn't even really lust. 

It's seeing a tangled mess of 
a fucked up, twisted mind
that looks just like mine
reflected in those dark brown eyes
that, all things aside, 
have already promised 
the night of my life.

Please, come over?

11/21/2020

ladies of the night

A fiery star 
shoots across the skyline
and thoughts of you
race into my mind.
You were always 
drawn to the dark
and I was drawn
to your amethyst heart.
Two wandering souls
with curious desire
entangled our limbs
and danced in the fire.
My skin scorched by
the flames of your lust,
we burned through the night.
Now ashes and dust
and a few memories
are all I cling to
from the summer when we
lived by the night
and the light
of the moon, and 
the meteorites. 

Fall, 2020

trauma seeks trauma

 your hands, my hair
my throat, my wrists,
your body on mine,
anything to stop the chaos of our minds.

you only know how to tame this mess of a brain
because you've lived your whole life with the same. 

your whispered breaths
against my flesh
that trauma seeks trauma,
and pain can numb pain,
and you're older than me, 
you'll show me the way.

so the bruises you leave
on my raw, tender skin
are your mark in time
of a moment of when
you used your body 

to set our minds free...

...even if just for a moment. 

11/11/2020

locomotion

You're just the latest of stops on my trainwreck of a life 
as I'm barreling down the tracks, going 
eighty, 
ninety, 
ninety five miles per hour 
toward a brick wall,
down a dead end road,
off a cliff. 

I know, inconceivably, how this is gonna end.
With every sin,
we're picking up speed
and it can't possibly last must longer,
and we can't possibly go much farther,
and we can't possibly make it through this without causing a scene,
but damn,
it sure is nice to have some company.

I don't know why you entertain me, though.

Maybe you like watching trainwrecks, too. 

11/10/2020