i knew during its entirety

that it would always be her

i knew who you pretended i was

in twisted sheets and during late night phone calls

and she’s so beautiful

the kind of beautiful that when i saw her for the first time

i knew it would never matter

what i said, what i did

it would always be her

but, of course, i’m happy for you

so i’ll go to your wedding

her perfect handwriting on the envelope

enclosed is a… Mr. and Mrs.

weird.

i’ll turn to your bride,

and i’ll say

“thank you for always taking care of him,

taking drinks out of his hands

and teaching him how to love”

in ways that i could not

“thank you for fighting for him,

when i’m sure all you wanted to do was give up.

he’s worth the headache”

i would know

then i’ll look at you

force a smile,

hopefully champagne drunk enough

to make eye contact without breaking character.

it was never going to be me sitting next to you

meeting the parents, honeymooning in spain

i was one night to you, but you are a lifetime to me.

“and to the groom.

i knew it would always be her.”

to lose is more painful than to love

remnants of once was

serve as a constant reminder for what can never be.

his eyes say more than his pressed lips ever could

the space between us

growing and growing

with each thought we share.

don’t say it

the silence becomes indifference

which becomes passive aggressiveness

then silence once again

but in the end,

that cold shoulder always felt so warm.

so we ended exactly as we began,

strangers.

have you ever wondered why you can’t taste your own tongue?

you can roll the tip of it to the back of your throat

and fold it on top of your tastebuds and

you can push your saliva on top of it

and swish it around your mouth,

but you will find there is only an indistinguishable insipidness.

i cannot taste my own venom.

a genetic disposition ― unaware of the toxicity i spew

you can thank my father for that.

i will spit acid on you and think it tastes like honey.

i was not made to love and you aren’t cut out for it.

nurtured to be virulent ― toxic waste wrapped with a big red bow,

but moonshine burns before it makes you feel warm.

you yell over spilled milk, but it sears like the sun.

if we could taste our tongues,

it would resemble bleach and ammonia.

i want to tell you everything

and one day i may, but for now

i’ll just think it

and stop myself from speaking.

i feel hands around my throat.

we lay next to each other

and i want to tell you

you are the sun, the moon

and everything in between.

“what are you thinking about?”

the grip tightens.

you say the wrong thing

and make me feel less than.

you are the earth, the ocean

and everything beneath it.

“i’m sorry.”

i cannot breathe.

my hesitations make me feel as if

i like you so much

it may make me resent you.

and that is something you will never know.

we wake up on a thursday morning

with a list of to do’s

but responsibilities can wait

they don’t matter right now

the frost on the window blurs the outside

nothing else exists right now

we are completely alone

you and me.

i pull your head under the covers

and feel my lips pull to yours

my glasses fog and you pull away

“when i kiss you i forget how to breathe.”

i swear in that moment my grave was dug

i sunk through the bed and layers of earth

to settle in my perennial place

god, i love waking up next to you.

we point our guns at each other. i can feel the tears burning in my eyes and my legs wanting to collapse at his feet. fuck.

in this moment, all i want is for him to know that i haven’t let myself love someone like i did for him. the closest thing i’ve felt to love anyways. i wish that was enough.

i want to put the gun down, but what if he doesn’t? i cannot give myself to him like that.

“maybe in a different world?”

“maybe.”

i cannot simply trust you

the worst is always expected

every glance and every word

the times you move your hand away like i’m infected

a text left on read

or even on delivered for too long

and i think there it is.

i’ve lost him like forgetting the lyrics to a favorite song

this is no way to live, it’s a constant fight

but at least i can never be truly shaken

constantly restless until i’m proven wrong

but more often than not, i get to be right

somewhere in all this deep paranoia

there is a piece of me that enjoys it

because my fear of being abandoned

cannot even ignore those occasions in which

i am completely and utterly yours

and you are mine.

there is no drug quite like your reassurance.

these moments make it worth

every message i over analyze

every movement of yours i lose myself in

i never sleep, but

at least i’ve never missed a sunrise

this is my favorite part

the unknowing and the anticipation

we are nothing while simultaneously everything

your freckled face and neck

and hazel eyes are all i see when i rest my eyes to sleep

i told you that your darkest marks

are symbols of where your lovers in your

past life kissed you the most

i tilt your head and pull your shirt over your collarbones and kiss every freckle,

every spot i can find

maybe if i cover you in enough kisses

we can bring on on the inevitable

the constellations of you

here’s the big dipper and there’s the northern cross

a map of where to place my mouth

if i get lost, will you guide me?

i place my hand on orion’s belt

i was raised atheist

and seldom saw a bible

aside from the occasional motel bedside drawer

no absolute being and no beelzebub

my moral compass was composed of

substandard archetypes and secrecy

i did not grow up with the fear of an all knowing father

no virtue and no turpitude

i do not live for anyone or anything but myself

for how can i dread the rapture

if my definition of eternal bliss is him and not “Him”?

no paradise no purgatory

he is my divine and i am his disciple, his devotee

it may not seem orthodox

but i take heed when he preaches on his soap box

no apocalypse and no false prophet

is there a god? that’s a question i cannot answer

but who would have known that the devil could be so heavenly