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Description
Sometimes
I can’t stand the Sun
because you used to tell me
that whenever I stand in the sunshine,
a piece of my love burns away.

I’ve noticed
in the sunlight
that you seem
to fade,
and the closer I get,
the more you disappear.

I miss the ocean.

Wool
The soft smell
of fur
fills my nose as I
press my face into
the soft of
alpaca wool.
There’s nothing
that can compare
to it
except maybe
the soft touch from him
that doesn’t
seem to go
away.
Not even
when I
smell the
wool and
try
to
hide.

Honesty
Sometimes when I say that I love you you don’t trust me and sometimes I don’t trust myself either but I’m pretty sure that I’m telling the truth.

Suture
Sometimes,
after we confess,
you act as though
nothing happened.

You act the same before we talked.
Maybe you look at me a little longer.

But that’s about it.

The Thought of You
There is something
eating away
at my heart.
It’s a big,
slimy monster,
called “The Thought of You.”

The Thought of You
winds his way
around my brain
and eats my memory
until it’s all that’s left.

The Thought of You
consumes me until
there’s nothing left
of me.

It hurts to think with The Thought of You around.

Sunspot
I remember when you were able to look at the Sun without feeling the heat. It was a strange sensation; to be standing in the desert and feel cold. Back then it was normal.
I began to feel warm when you came to me and asked me for my opinion. I looked at the Sun for an answer, but it was angry at you, and that’s when I could tell it wasn’t winter anymore.
Whenever I was with you, it was warm. I was with you all the time, nearly. So it was warm.
There came a point when we argued, and we separated. The Sun was happy about this, so he didn’t glare any more, and it was cooler.
It’s still cold, but at least I have the Sun.

An Excuse for Emptiness

i miss you.

Five Ways to be Weightless
Here is where you can lose yourself without the fear of being found. Cover your eyes with dust and fall into the ceiling, my love, and then you can remember to forget yourself.

Through the wishing and the wanting, you’re there, behind the smallest of the rainless clouds, breathing in the remnants of contentment and breathing out a sigh. You never thought that happiness could be found within the sky.

For a while, you’ll be lost in white, feathered eyelashes with drops of dew, body covered with a cloud, clean and pure. Remember to forget yourself, or you might come crashing down with the next bolt of lightning.

Lose yourself in the light breeze on a winter’s day, tip your hat to the losers, and just wonder how you were able to capture the butterfly.

Just for a while, remember to forget yourself, and you’ll be free.

Washed Faces
After a day
is finally over,
I wash my face
of all the things
I regret seeing.

Without the make up
is a girl,
eyes tired and worn,
smooth face crossed
with invisible worry.

And when she smiles,
it’s much more pure—
mush more beautiful—
much more sad—
then the one she wears
during the day.

Metronome
My heart is a metronome, “tick-tick-tick”ing to the music that never stops in my head.

I make double-jointed shadow puppets with my fingers that always end up bending the wrong way.

I listen to the same song over and over and over and over just to be sure the lyrics didn’t change over time.

Sometimes, when I sleep, it feels like there’s someone trying to wake me from the inside out.

When I look in the mirror in the morning, I think I’m looking through a window to someone looking at a mirror thinking they’re looking through a mirror.

I have a key that only unlocks things.

When I play the piano, I always use the pedal just to hear the music echo and blend together.

While walking in the woods, I sometimes hope that the Big Bad Wolf will find me.

Sometimes I wish I could stop the metronome but keep living.

Nutshell Wishes
A nutshell A home to something overturned.

Pick it up, keep it, give it to me.

“Hold your wishes here.”

Blow a kiss, Walk away, Hold on tight, to a nutshell;

A home for wishes overturned.

Probably Acid
I loved you,
stopped loving you,
loved you again,
and then loved you in a different way.

I swear that my tears
are probably made up of

ACID

then they are water.

They burn across my face and gather
at a crease by my eye,
melting my skin
all the way down
to my chipped skull
and yet
I’m laughing
at the irony of it all.

I love you.

Description
Sometimes
I can’t stand the Sun
because you used to tell me
that whenever I stand in the sunshine,
a piece of my love burns away.

I’ve noticed
in the sunlight
that you seem
to fade,
and the closer I get,
the more you disappear.

I miss the ocean.

Wool
The soft smell
of fur
fills my nose as I
press my face into
the soft of
alpaca wool.
There’s nothing
that can compare
to it
except maybe
the soft touch from him
that doesn’t
seem to go
away.
Not even
when I
smell the
wool and
try
to
hide.

Honesty
Sometimes when I say that I love you you don’t trust me and sometimes I don’t trust myself either but I’m pretty sure that I’m telling the truth.

Suture
Sometimes,
after we confess,
you act as though
nothing happened.

You act the same before we talked.
Maybe you look at me a little longer.

But that’s about it.

The Thought of You
There is something
eating away
at my heart.
It’s a big,
slimy monster,
called “The Thought of You.”

The Thought of You
winds his way
around my brain
and eats my memory
until it’s all that’s left.

The Thought of You
consumes me until
there’s nothing left
of me.

It hurts to think with The Thought of You around.

Sunspot
I remember when you were able to look at the Sun without feeling the heat. It was a strange sensation; to be standing in the desert and feel cold. Back then it was normal.
I began to feel warm when you came to me and asked me for my opinion. I looked at the Sun for an answer, but it was angry at you, and that’s when I could tell it wasn’t winter anymore.
Whenever I was with you, it was warm. I was with you all the time, nearly. So it was warm.
There came a point when we argued, and we separated. The Sun was happy about this, so he didn’t glare any more, and it was cooler.
It’s still cold, but at least I have the Sun.

An Excuse for Emptiness

i miss you.

Five Ways to be Weightless
Here is where you can lose yourself without the fear of being found. Cover your eyes with dust and fall into the ceiling, my love, and then you can remember to forget yourself.

Through the wishing and the wanting, you’re there, behind the smallest of the rainless clouds, breathing in the remnants of contentment and breathing out a sigh. You never thought that happiness could be found within the sky.

For a while, you’ll be lost in white, feathered eyelashes with drops of dew, body covered with a cloud, clean and pure. Remember to forget yourself, or you might come crashing down with the next bolt of lightning.

Lose yourself in the light breeze on a winter’s day, tip your hat to the losers, and just wonder how you were able to capture the butterfly.

Just for a while, remember to forget yourself, and you’ll be free.

Washed Faces
After a day
is finally over,
I wash my face
of all the things
I regret seeing.

Without the make up
is a girl,
eyes tired and worn,
smooth face crossed
with invisible worry.

And when she smiles,
it’s much more pure—
mush more beautiful—
much more sad—
then the one she wears
during the day.

Metronome
My heart is a metronome, “tick-tick-tick”ing to the music that never stops in my head.

I make double-jointed shadow puppets with my fingers that always end up bending the wrong way.

I listen to the same song over and over and over and over just to be sure the lyrics didn’t change over time.

Sometimes, when I sleep, it feels like there’s someone trying to wake me from the inside out.

When I look in the mirror in the morning, I think I’m looking through a window to someone looking at a mirror thinking they’re looking through a mirror.

I have a key that only unlocks things.

When I play the piano, I always use the pedal just to hear the music echo and blend together.

While walking in the woods, I sometimes hope that the Big Bad Wolf will find me.

Sometimes I wish I could stop the metronome but keep living.

Nutshell Wishes
A nutshell A home to something overturned.

Pick it up, keep it, give it to me.

“Hold your wishes here.”

Blow a kiss, Walk away, Hold on tight, to a nutshell;

A home for wishes overturned.

Probably Acid
I loved you,
stopped loving you,
loved you again,
and then loved you in a different way.

I swear that my tears
are probably made up of

ACID

then they are water.

They burn across my face and gather
at a crease by my eye,
melting my skin
all the way down
to my chipped skull
and yet
I’m laughing
at the irony of it all.

I love you.