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Literature Text
you dont know how much
you really missed them until
you see them and break
you really missed them until
you see them and break
Literature
before
a little while ago
maybe a couple of months or something
i wasn't drinking ; instead i was
waking up to you
every morning you would stretch
and your spine would move and i felt it all over
your skin stretched into the sun and
i saw it everywhere
but guess what, that shit was gold and
gold doesn't last and you didn't last.
i got boring and you got mean.
and you're less of a gypsy and more of
a woman and i know if i called you up tonight
said hey baby come home
how did we get here baby i'm crying on the
floor drinking lime pepsi
and this goddamn pepsi is flat. so why don't
you come home. just for the night.
you would say you h
Literature
Saving You
Dear Jessie,
If I could save you, I would.
If hands could mend failing lungs and piece together the shattered fragments of bones;
if fingers could sift through DNA and marrow, pull out the poison clogging up arteries,
siphon fluid bursting from synovial sacs and corroding joints;
if words could build you a bed in the nighttime sky,
string together stars and create a cavern in the crescent moon;
I would.
I would blindfold eyes and stitch shut mouths,
covers ears and tie tight hands.
If only I could.
But, wait.
Wait until your tongue is staining the inside of your mouth with lies;
wait until your bones have composed themselves
Literature
Husks of the Past
Yellow Jacket flannel hangs
in the back of my closet,
an active memory hive.
I put it on sometimes,
deep pockets engulfing me
and buttons pressed to my skin
like a threat.
A trace of your cologne
still lingers,
the promise of spring
snatched away too soon.
I dream of being suffocated;
it always smells like you.
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yes.... i really miss my muffins 