>This is to remember.
I’ve got a decoder ring,
Its parts are disposable,
it shows that your fingers
and my shoes are not
worn from walking
by your side, they cocoon
safe with you.
Its the parts of dreams that don’t make it
beautiful fractured structures that bring,
my fingertips to your hips
in the middle of the night.
Asking if we can stay
just like this,
under a compass rose
>Its raining again and the wind chime you got me isn’t chiming.
Neither is my heart, (just so you know).
Your t-shirts are laying around in your suitcase upstairs
lonely and lost
wondering where you skin has gone.
I’m wondering who is touching you now.
If you think about my hands
like you thought of his
when mine were on you.
I’m betting you do.
I’m betting high these days and
I keep losing.
I lost you long before you were gone.
My skin is hot and no one can cool me
safe like you.
Im sweltering and
steaming through, trying to chime for you like
a sick fish on a rainy night
eyes glassed over to reading signs we
What kind of poems are you writing?
What kind of things are
touching your lips?
I couldn’t write these
things with you.
Too busy gasping for
air, thinking of where we
The fish is scale-less and
bleeding clouds into the damp night.
The fish is circling behind my
eyes waiting to die.
>Two posts in one day…I know.
Just found this, and my heart broke all over again. These are the things I need to remember, to remember why. To remember myself, and my lack of breathing.
May Tenth, 2009. (almost a year before our bed became just my bed again).
Sometimes in the middle of the night,
dark and thick and long when
I cannot see you through the closed lids of my wanting I
forget to breathe and behind the walls of my indifferent chest I
begin to shake and manufacture tears that are
made up of the air I can’t seem to drink.
Sometimes in the hours just before
musky quiet city luminaries turn gray and fog into daylight.
When my closed eyes and numb fingers keep me from you
erect inside my chest
rumbling and hysterical searching
for a way to take a breath, release a teardrop,
open my lips and find your skin.
Sometimes as light breaks through our window,
creeping in together like children off to school,
I wake up screaming,
gasping for air, and grasping for something
it is because I am looking for you,
I am looking for you and
your skin is warm but
you have been gone a long time.
you have been gone such a long time.