i heard we should stop writing our dreams

but i dream we’re all safe wrapped in arms

all safe behind plastic curtain

all mint condition

i dreamt the way a nose crinkles

the way the night was always shorter

when

you looked from the angle of the day

we say the word snug in a whisper

i become tachycardia

watch the oxygen leak

your eyes glint white in moonlight

i dreamt the taste of your teeth

dreamt your mouth tripping over

the word goodnight to settle on

goddamn we’re running out of time

i dreamt the exit with a sigh

woke to sunday on high

woke to midnight at the table outside

dreamt the way your tongue slipped in and out

of hazy goodbyes

*excerpt from my forthcoming book lamb/&/slaughter (Fifth Wheel Press 2024)

Your sweater lies draped across the chair

Sky blue, an effortless appearance

In an unassuming neutral environment

I feel its softness extend to

Reach out, drifting across the air.

Vibrations of grief

Stroke my cheek

With memory and tears anew.

Resting in languid serenity,

It calls my name as if

Awaiting my touch,

Always reminding me of you.

Warmth infuses my heart and

Memories flood the recesses

Of my mind whilst

Vivid recollections invade my soul.

On rainy, dreary days,

I pull its beloved form from the chair

Wrapping its softness securely about me.

Your lingering, sweet scent

Envelops my heart

In an illusion of comfort,

And a smile suffuses my face.

I dream you are beside me again.

Whispers and echoes of love hover,

Swirling. covering;

They bring comfort in

Evaporating waves of long abated intimacy.

Lightly, gingerly, I caress the softness,

Tears fill my eyes as a rampage

Of memories invade,

Taunting reverberations of deep longing.

How long since you were here?

I’m left with this mere essence of you,

Miniscule reassurance is mine.

I muster a smile amidst the arduous toil of grief,

And wrap myself in the soft, blue mellowness.

Temporarily, life abounds with renewed peace,

A resounding, overwhelming renewal

Of comfort.

Endurance emanates and lends a hand

Of calm, impending reassurance

Flowering from the softness

Of what was once yours.

Despite your absence,

This piece of you remains within reach;

A profound reminder and a promise

Of wondrous love that fills our eternity.

A stony heart refuses to concede to say the words formulating in my mind like a snowglobe being shaken into a flurry of torn love notes and shredded photographs. The scene ended long ago and the curtain closed yet demands for encores keep regurgitating feelings that I just wish would make sense. None of it does, from meeting you to you leaving agan, and again, and again (and one more time for good measure). Perhaps these come up as God's way of telling one of us that there is some unfinished business holding us back. Since I'm the only one talking, I guess it's me that needs to keep learning.

The thing is it's not like I'm not trying to learn and move on. Not in the "just get under another" way either. I mean, I'm not the same fifteen year old kid getting with bad men just because I know it'll spite someone who convinced me whatever we were doing was love. I'm sure I told you, during the drunken nights we'd spend talking, all about my exploits as the coveted "other woman" who shot herself in the foot like your old friend shot what's-her-face. You seemed so enthralled by my life that felt so bland in comparison to you, a gangbanger who played football and rapped and made thousands and literally left it all to hide in a war-torn country.

I hardly think of you now. I mean, you are in the back of my mind I guess since you still come up so easily whenever the opportunity arises. Just look at this piece that's another plea for the memory of you to stop haunting me so I can move on. I don't want to lose what you taught me in many ways but I want it to fade. I want to not compare what we had to what I have now or what I'll have later in life. Since you are clearly not what God intended for me, or are currently pulling a goddamn Jonah and hiding at the bottom of a sinking ship acting like you're not endangering everyone around you by not listening, I need to make a move and sever the tie between us before these memories make me drown.

You were a lesson in love, sure. A lesson that a person can dominate me without terrifying me. A lesson that a person can love me wholly and completely if I just let them. I guess just like you're more emotionally open, I'm more physically open. There's no way I would have gone on my first date or had my first adult kiss or lost my virginity had I not met you. I would have never gone on a limb and tried something new if I was unable to see what life feels like when I stop trying to plan it and anticipate what will happen next. I mean, you were predictable, sure, but your predictability was because I had jumped into the unknown and allowed myself to be fully curious and intrigued by someone, not as a romantic interest but as a person. I got to learn you and see how smart I was and remember how fun it was to learn someone and watch their reaction to having someone genuinely try and succeed to get to know them. Maybe it overwhelmed you... I've honestly given up on knowing the end. Though I still write these, I move on too. It's like telling the story again of a scar instead of reliving when the blade entered my skin and the adrenaline raced and the blood poured and all the pain surged through my body and paralyzed me.

The person I am with now challenges me by being the opposite of you in all the ways that count. He confuses me by being an enigma of emotion that I cannot crack. Though I unwilling trust that he likes me, I have to test the limits of my emotional endurance and my social anxiety every time we talk. The swarm of thoughts that this man forces me to feel and have is irritatingly exciting, and make even writing to you feel silly now because you clearly won't come back. One day, I will accept that perhaps I am not the one who needs to take the bait and explain myself for what happened between us. One day, I will take myself by the hands, look myself in the eyes, and tell myself that losing the first man that seemed to genuinely love me was not my fault. One day, I will be able to separate first love and only love and move to whatever is next. Probably cracking the Rubik's cube of a human that I am with now.

I usually end these with the typical goodbye or that I miss you and I honestly I don't know how to end this one. I guess it'll just end.

An artist stood atop Paris

in her rosy red dress,

a smile from cheek to cheek,

a pen in hand,

a sketchbook on her lap.

Enjoying the beauty of the summer,

as I did once myself,

back when our hands cradled one another,

and flowers bloomed beneath our feet.

Each line she etched into the paper

spoke more of her mind,

more of her mind than linguistics did,

more of her mind than the outsider knew,

sometimes more than I knew

Her features themselves were art,

a self portrait forever evolving,

as circumstance shifted around us,

and we shifted with circumstance.

Those features contort and twist as

our chain links rust away.

We cannot face each other,

not how we used to.

A spectre of the paint,

a phantom of those strokes.

A painting around every corner,

hooked onto my mind's eye.

I often wonder where the royal road

had split for us,

and where she had turned a different path.

Maybe it's for my own good our road

has never crossed,

Maybe it's time to feed the guillotine

within my mind.

Maybe I should let the memories roll,

into the empty basket below.

My Marie Antoinette never wore a crown.

My Marie Antoinette wore a beret.

I looked up when you walked by me,

Shied when you grazed my arm,

Smelled your scent in roses,

Turned my head around,

Watched as you planted your feet,

And looked right back at me.

I smiled as you stared me down,

Flew when your eyes lit up,

Froze in a moment of time,

Sank when you turned back around,

And died when you left my sight.

I imagined you in that dress,

Roses behind my back,

Hair fixed to a point,

Holding down my gaze...

Our love sank through our feet,

The roses on the ground,

But still, I think of you,

And how I:

I looked up when you walked by me,

Shied when you grazed my arm,

Smelled your scent in roses,

Turned my head around,

Watched as you planted your feet,

And looked right back at me.

We stayed up all night with you. I thought I’d be afraid to wash your cold skin, but I wasn’t. The warm water smelled like lavender and childhood. To care for you wasn’t a dreaded chore, it was a blessing. And one of our friends brought an apple cake with white icing.

We took turns reading your favorite books to you aloud, every line save for your handwriting in the margins. This we read only to ourselves. It ached as your precious words burrowed in my chest, but in my heart, they planted a song. The song wandered in the conversations of our friends and family around us in the room, changing form and melody, like a river swirling around stones. This was the song we heard in ourselves. We hoped you could hear it, too. To make a mournful noise seemed horribly out of place.

The next day, as loved ones came and went, the sunshine streamed down the hallway through the front door. Someone set a crystal vase of fresh tulips on your nightstand. The clock struck 8 a.m. You had a smile on your lips then, and that was the gift for which I am most grateful.

my boy was brown eyes and honey

i had never tasted a love so sweet

forever dripped from his lips and

i wished on the stars for it to be true

my love was patience and understanding

on the days that i could not give my

best, he assured me that it was enough

my baby was home in human form

the person who i thanked god for

making just for me to live beside

but no amount of shooting stars

could make the time work in our favor

and though my heart still beats for him

he is no longer mine to call home

Lost love. Heaven knows that I lost my love before it even began, before I could even grasp it. So, can one say that my love was lost? No, my love left me. He left me and took the hopes and dreams of what I had envisioned for him and me. My love took from me, he cost me everything a young girl could give, could breathe for. My lost love was a pretty brown boy with glistening brown eyes. A knowing smirk and a kind smile. He was unlike all the boys around him, my love had a dominant atmosphere around him. My love was my best friend, the guy who would seek my attention and command it. My love started as the boy who teased me in class, drawing on my arm with a black marker and pulling gently on my hair. My love had my love for many years until he decided to leave me be. For my love had higher and bigger dreams for me. You see, my love saw what I refused to see. I was too good for him, and he was very bad for me. I was the nerdy girl; he was a boy from the streets. But who isn't to say that my love wasn't capable of changing for me if he wanted me? Now, years since he last caught a glance of me, years since I last reached out, I still wonder, what my love is up to now.

Orange hair

The segments fell apart, one by one

The unpeeling

Touching skin to skin

Mouth to mouth

Resuscitated

My life opening up like one of those

Blooms

You see in the pictures

The pictures

We took them

Where did that smile go?

Singing together on the phone

Kissing until our lips were sore

Snuggling close below the setting sun

Oh,

Orange hair

I remember when you were there

He loved me back then and let me know

I didn't love him

He accepted that, and he moved on

I learned to care for him and I grew to know him

I'm not sure if he knows how much I care

I've accepted that, because I can't tell him that

I think I love him, maybe a best friend, it could be more

I can't tell him, because I already rejected him

I can't tell him, because we couldn't date

I can't tell him, because I think's he's moved on

I'll learn to accept that, and move on too