I bent my neck trying to write to you
to tell you how I feel about you,
how the words flow and fumble
trying to put an order to these
emotions, feelings feeling their way
around my head and looking
for an exit in the dark, but we both know
the only way we’re getting out is by shouting
so loud they hear us in the voids
between us
-
words flow and fumble
-
when the room goes dark
when the room goes dark,
I lay and stare at the ceiling,
trying to ignore the light
from the hallway—your light,
that you insist stays on.
but it holds my attention,
pulling eyes and head and
thoughts of moments
with you, and
I can go to sleep now.
-
my heart tells me you’re missing,
my heart tells me you’re missing,
but my eyes see you right here.those small moments
make up the biggest parts of me
-
as I swim inside these eyes
as I swim inside these eyes,
I hope our
gravity
keeps me here—
pressed against a chair,
swaying to
my heart beat,
trying not
to wrestle free
and float away.words lose meaning when you
can’t hear them and
have none to read—
when life shows you language
is nothing more than a layer,
a common interpreter of
yours and mine and many unique
experiences
and feelings
paid in microseconds.just like that,
we’re 13 years in
and
exactly where we
wanted to be:
staring into our eyes
and seeing the decades ahead,
and those we’ve learned from to
be exactly where we
wanted to
be:
able to close our eyes
and know we’ll wake up
together, still.
-
it’s 3am,
it’s 3am,
and i’ve moved my writing
apps
to the second page,
so I can swipe once more
before tapping this glass
or
stopping to let the words find me
while I
sit and stare, and watch gravity
keep me here.
-
pantera quinceañera
you turn away, watching the world around us that rarely changes. but you scan, ears forward, until you slink into your paws. sounds—creaks or the starting of a new lullaby replayed yet again—shake you up, waiting to pounce or scurry.
now I know you find comfort in my comfort, in being close enough to guard but not too close to not dart if called by some noise or internal timer I never hear ticking. you are my cat mother: five-times-over a lady now, giving proximity and concern and warmth as nourishment for me, your lonely kit.
you’d rather I rest my hand on you than guide it through your fur, over the dormant springs under your fluff. you love through awareness, through being known and heard and seen and not forgotten, as though you fight with not having a choice in losing your Castor. and I am sorry, and you know it, and we mourn to be able to move on while staying fully still.
-
you’re the reason
I don’t know what i’m crying for.
what do I want changed?
what do I want new?
I want to remember who we were
when ends never met and
I hurt you with my anger.
I want to hold you now
and stop myself then.
you deserve what we have,
and i’m not sure I thought we’d
ever get here.
you loved me behind the counter
of a Walmart, of a Blockbuster;
you drove me and picked me up
an hour each way.
you are my reason and my rock
and I don’t give a shit about headshots
if you ain’t in em with me, cuz
you’re the reason people want em.