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I've filled my house
with furniture I cannot use

A table of only legs
chairs whose fabric scrubs my skin
sleep made impossible
by a bed that hangs
upside down from the ceiling

I'm not sure I even recognize
myself in these strange mirrors

But I can't move out.

Please help me, you who have experience
in making furnishings make sense.
Together we can build
something off which to eat,
find softer cloth,
with caution, lower my bed
to the floor.
Please, if you recognize me
help me back home.

~April 3, 2012

Inside Out

You slipped into my heart
and turned it inside out
to show me what I loved
and it wasn't you
and that was ok
because you weren't real
and so I knew
that all you wanted
was for me to know myself
and maybe you had had
your heart turned inside out too
maybe we were both born like that
and so you knew me
because our hearts beat the same way
not toward each other
but side by side.
So thank you for your hands
on my heart
pushing gently in
the other direction

~April 1st, 2012

jewel

jewels shone around me
bigger than stars
so I picked the brightest one
in case I never got the chance again
I clutched that jewel in my fist
until it shattered into my hand
and now we are both broken
bleeding jewel, and me,
and separating the two
is my constant crimson chore

~April 1st, 2012

Lighter Dark Blue

I think I can see something
just over the horizon
like maybe a little lighter dark blue
in my darkest blues ever
but it might hurt my eyes
I think I'll close them
a little longer

~November 11, 2011

Being

Now I see
that what I really couldn’t stand
was being myself with you
was it just too vulnerable
or was I too selfish
or was your potential dislike
so close to the surface
that I could see it when I looked at you?
Or was I only seeing me
stuck with my own
bad
idea
not
being myself
but
being with you.

~November 11, 2011

Yes to Now

The spaces of relationships
I've left behind
trail me like huge
cavernous seed pods
in which I could get caught
in the echoes of what I thought
they could grow

carnivorous seed pods

I can't stop writing this idea
like a song stuck in your mind
the things I thought I wanted are
the only things I seem to think about

because those thoughts are caught
in the structures of songs
shades of grey sky
the weave of my clothing,
only I can't see my thoughts
I can't pick out the stitches you sewed
or make the sun shine into my mind
or stop listening to tragic love songs.
Maybe that's ok
maybe saying yes to now
is not saying yes to forever

~November 11, 2011

The Thing Is

The first thing I think of
is a broken eggshell
leaking promise
but I don't even eat eggs
so I try to write real

The last time I didn't kiss you
the last time I didn't play a song for you
or tell you what it meant
or why it made me think of you,
or why I felt like there was no room
for any of that.
The last times shake through me
like waves, a shoreline I'm living on
the never got tos
the forgots
the never could bes.
The times I thought
I knew us
The thing about not being yourself for awhile
is that you're still yourself
so you don't even know you're not
The thing about not being yourself
is that it's hard to know what you're missing
The thing about not speaking up
is that silence may become you
and some people may like the silence

better than you

~July 29, 2011