I fear the thin blue lines racing down my cheeks

once in a while i am told things that ignite my heart
and thats why I am sitting here
trying to find the flame
but why am i writing love poems? Where is the love?
most of us dont notice it any way
thats why i should be let go
but at night when i hug my lover
i can not tell who i am writing about

i find that each little tiny clock is so hard to balance

i have a difficult time loving the things i love most

and even after getting so hurt, i was still hoping wed end up together

because the beautiful blue lines that form the tears down my cheek
can't hold in the fact that
ill never make you cry

and i know im not wrong
when i say that
i think that youll still save me
but your waiting on the edge for soneone else
with brown beautiful eyes
to walk my thin line of tears

right up to you

and kiss you


   - (but I won't because I am too afraid) 

18

i've been hurting in the same heart
since i was 2.

now at age 18 i sit and wait.
as the nights get darker,
the rent gets higher,
and my love gets dimmer.

so stop acting like you can outsmart love.
stop acting like you can beat it, scream at it, make it cry, laugh at it,

or even make it love you back.

True Love Waits

true love waits
on the cups we drink
hovering over children as they sleep
in the ponds at night
and puddles of crimson blood
in the things i want to say to you
forming the white noise in the back of my head
in my tongue that can never speak
in the pool
waiting for you to jump in
and the power that sits on the tips of your fingers
turning broken glass into mirrors
in in the air you breathe
and the air you don't
in the walls of your house
where you punch the air in protest
that love does not exist

that is where i am

true love waits

like a virus rounding everyone into one small space

Me (Part II)

It was always a lovely time looking at you
but now
i see our hearts
that were once to close
are now
so far apart

and the space creates a great pot of brilliant light
that stretches to across galaxies when we are away

but your light has been growing dimmer

and im trying to find the spaces that i once filled
like the empty spaces in my hands
but i think you let them fade
and im starting to become those empty skies
and im starting to see gaps in the lines
on the wrinkles on your cheeks
and people will walk on this earth
but their lights will not brighten mine like yours once did

all i wonder
is if youre just as empty as me
or if you just gave up
and the more i look at you
the more i realize
that youre as essential to me
as the spaces between stars
and i will not stop fueling the light with love
until i am shedding the last of my own light
on you.

Alive. Less every day.

summer nights
perfect timing
i put my hair up
and stretch my back

with each star i see luminating the sky
i lose myself a little bit more

without a smile
i step out
into the unforgiving darkness
and
never come back

Ive been trying to make peace with myself, one brick at a time.

Ive been trying to make peace with myself

one brick at a time

but I don't think I'm ready.

maybe I dont want peace
because the way I write
disturbs the truth
that I'm just not ready to hear. 

maybe I dont want peace 
because I had a crush on Alice S Blackwell last year
but knew I couldn't afford to love.

maybe Ive been trying to make peace with myself 
since 5th grade
and still got a long way to go.

I truly can't
make peace

Ive tried.
Ive tried.

my exposed brain chemistry 
could make me the most intriguing 
and beautiful creature to ever live,

yet I still think my brain-

who's knotted ribbons
unspool stories on the floor- 

has failed me.

maybe its that i am beautiful
but just haven't realized it yet

maybe my head hangs too low,
from my dangling neck,
keeping the passion away bones,

yet l hang onto the artery like a halo.

maybe i should let go.

I was never meant to live this long anyways.

because brick by brick
I was built to fall apart
like the steadiest of houses
crumbling at my feet.

I stand alone
along with the fires in my heart
that rage while I
wait to be the last one standing.

solitary
and abandon.

brick
by
brick.

The Lines Across The United States

we sit on a balcony fifty stories high.
cigarettes in mouth, drinks in hand.
i stare into the mountains, into oblivion.
the air is dark and unsure
quick a cat,
soft as freedom

world against us, i grip the rail.
i close my eyes and breathe into myself

when my eyes open, the world has changed
out the window of her appartment
is where your dreams float away.
but you were too tired to chase them.

but there is an image in my mind
and i have to know if it is real
its an image of your fingers woven into mine.

but instead,
we take a drink.

Zenith: the highest point reached by a celestial object.

please, stay close to the zenith

lay your body down
bruised and weary
hold it softly against the paling world
like cotton over a body
have your eyes appear as jewels
as the orange sun escapes the horizon

speak dying syllables over restless nights
until the chill of the dawn
let the pools of water at your feet
feel like the cold ponds of the earth
let the rocks in your eyes
wrap cool hands around your lovers waist

let your unsinkable eyes
add a new dimensions
as the day flourishes its darkness of trade

because from inside the window of your paling skin
is where the zenith lives

let it consume your deepest truths
and clean your dirtiest plate
let it shake you where your knees break
and where your spirit slpits the air

and age may remind you
how vulnerable you are

but remember
with glasses you can only see the smudges on the screen

so please

stay close to the zenith

Me

it was suppose to be you

it was suppose to be you

and its not even winter
but it feels like it.

because sometimes
late at night
i still love you

and when i go to sleep
ill close my eyes
and dream of us together
but each morning
is a wake up call to the empty space of reality
waiting for one last morning to arrive
with one last instant
to make you love me

including that one moment i thought you did

each tear
containing traces of you
falls to my pillow
i count them
one
two
three more tears than yesterday
and still a fraction of the number of days i can survive without you

but your heart was always be smaller than your head

and you still treat me more like a broken faucet
than a broken human being
that maybe just wants a hug

but i still can't get over how your eyes
are like tangible oceans
that fit perfectly into your sockets
craving a dash of pollutant

and how the curves of your hands
are the curves of the highway
and the night was your eyes
because even the darkness can be loved

so
ill disappear from your quiet world
as it should be
and let each tear fall quietly
to the bottom my grave
and flavor everything i see

but the way you speak dying syllables
over restless nights
fills my mind with a single sentence:

its you.

its you.

so for now
i am an ocean waiting out a storm

because there is no capacity of pool that can hold me

even though i finally found a song
that will let me sleep at night,
the things that brush against my skin will still,
always lead me back to you.

The truth we can't find in our pen caps

I suppose all my searching
is done in the wrong places

the truth
that is hidden in plain sight

the truth of terror,
of heartbreak
of sin
of love

the truth that lies
right outside my window
I have yet to break

the truth we can't find in our pen caps

the truth that comes when you see a homeless man
walking in the rain
or an old lady
sitting alone at the park
or social injustice
that fills the wounds of soldiers

and I rise
from my bed each day
but fall into it
again, 12 hours later

I still do nothing.

the truth at funerals
at weddings
at birthdays
starts to feel like looking
into a dusty mirror

my soul begs me to see.

but he intensity
of what it is to be human
isn't something i can do anything about.

Yet I ask the same question over and over
Why me?

I beg for an answer

Ai ir