"i am not yours"

God is bad, God is late


I love it
when we’re

your arms
find a home
on my hips,

our bones separated
only by skin

if your lips were apples
I’d sin
   and sin
      and sin

every bite of sadness tastes like tobacco and suicide so I’ve been too afraid to sink my teeth into anything

We are the moon and the tides, the push and pull. I push you, you pull away. Like the beach after an earthquake, the water is gone, receding, drawing back like a wounded animal. And the earthquake might have hurt (like the sea was being ripped in half) as one wall of earth crashed against the other—

but damn if the ocean doesn’t love the feeling of choosing when to crash for once. The tsunami will come, and the whole ocean with it.

ever like this,

ever like this


the waves are still crashing
and you’re in the moonlight
sometimes the moon wanes
but the tide always comes back in

it is endless it is endless it is endless it is

choking it is coffee it is smiling it is chapped it is tired it is
ocean it is salt it is burning it is gold it is blood it is death it is
mountain it is snow it is rustling it is crackling it is speechless it is
crying it is screaming it is duality it is torn it is new it is
you it is love it is humanity—
is it love without humanity?
it is endless it is endless it is endless it is


we’re this, which is what?
(besides borrowed shorts and greasy hair)
I spent the night tapping on the teeth of her car
she doesn’t care if I tell her

but I choked on the tar at the beach
and smothered my face in her pillows
the hairs on the back of my neck
are tangled in the spokes of her bike
home is hard to hold
when she likes running

I’ve been talking about nothing and
waiting for her to understand

this is how I love her

I’m half-formed
And you’re well-worn
I think I’m pretty
But only when you look at me
like that


Loving you takes
Turned over and over in my head until browned evenly on both sides and the time it takes to fry my brain is negligible with a catalyst that fits as well as you do in my arms when we spoon full of
I love you
But you’re sticking my hours together until days squeeze into seconds and thoughts drizzle down the drain and
I spent
Eighteen years learning to spell that word just so I could write it to you every night

Passion in Cipher

if love is time spent in the state of life suspended, revolving on the tip of the last word you said, then a broken heart is just broken plans, shattered promises that cut your feet as you struggle through the next few months and God forbid you said you loved her because you’ll be picking shards of her out of the bottoms of your feet for years