Hole hearted is the draft
aching in the marrow
of an unlikely home
shelter sought in a ribcage
Winter once sounded like
our names echoing
off canyon walls,
the feeling of
preemptive release
before your mind is made up,
it only ever feels this good once.
The cold
has a way of flesh eating
the parts that wither easy
places I often forget to tend to
skin you've seldom kissed,
winter is
our innards frozen
to the sidewalk outside the bar
a mistake we can't unmake
in a town determined to bust me open
The cold used to feel
like fogged up glasses
choking on second hand smoke
no excuse not to smother you
and it never felt that incredible again.
Mindless
There is a body
Artfully attached
To this ball of stress
A ball of flesh
Dangling gleeful
And charming
A refraction of light
Unearthed by my unrest
An alarming topic
This body
It opens slowly
To the idea of simplicity
A small victory
Or a momentary
Distraction from
Right and wrong
This body
Needs nourishing
The kind that only
Comes from self love
No more distress signals
No obstructed perspective
This time was made
For expansion
Not to be wasted on
Our lapses in judgment
This flesh was born
For more than stretch marks
And stress ball battle scars.
Smoke Signal
Sometimes I reach out to you
as if my bones were trying
to escape my own skin,
arms still too short to
scratch your surface,
wings balled into fists.
I am finding out
how to reach you
with both hands
behind my back.
I find that words can not
fill uncharted territory,
I want to touch you
in places not found
on your body.
Sometimes I smell you
on the backs of my hands
thawing in the dead of winter.
I hold your image
between my lips,
and icicle dripping in my throat.
I reach out to you in my sleep,
pull you close
as clenched teeth
and we exhale each other
every morning as smoke.
It Kills.
Find what you love and let it kill you
hope for blood spatter on the front page
your passion only remembered by
the length of the crime scene tape
how many photos did they have to take
how many days before someone identified your body?
Find what you love, let it hunt you down
so that in the end it feels like it won
think ahead about the note left
in your mothers mail box, tell her
you loved so big that you tasted copper
when it all went black, tell her
you tried so hard that your dreams
started chasing you back.
Find what you love and let it eat you alive
thrive on the second identity that it provides
bathe in the way their eyes scan you
when you look like nothing in the world
could have taken you down like this love did.
