i. you’ve taught me darkness,

sour pain and rotten tongues laid bare

silence, then a sudden cacophony

ringing and the smell of burnt caramel

and get your fucking hands off of me,

you do not own me anymore.

•

you called for me,

begged, spurned everything for my favour

and I felt the shards

of what you left behind

twist and dance inside of me.

you held my past in your palms,

and bargained it for my future

and I was never good at business,

but I knew I needed

this.

needed closed blinds and coffee holders

and bare hearts and look at me from across the room, and hold me in public and don’t fucking act like I don’t mean anything and why the fuck couldn’t you do that for me

•

your caramel used to be sweet,

but with the flame that licked my feet,

it has turned black and impossible to eat.

•

ii. you are a porch light on the shoreline,

moths against your back

and seawater rinsing your toes,

where I float, head under,

waiting to succumb.

•

at first, it was a jolt –

a tense brush against,

gazing, alcohol wetting our teeth,

share a seatbelt and a sofa.

now, it is a current,

streaming within and without,

and you know I am insecure,

and I know you are too,

but we know we are here,

and this is reason enough to be,

and we share the same seatbelt

under the same car roof.

•

your hands are home.

I can’t go back.

•

12/27/18

I am the skip of a disc,

a song stuttering and chirping

caught toe in carpet,

layer of ice on concrete,

wrapped ankles in lace

and hands holding wrists in place

and I am a mistake.

•

you hold me like I am complete.

•

I am a broken television,

crisp vision turned sour

and static burns the ledges

where I seep from,

when I sleep standing,

leave my corpse,

end up on the floor,

and begin anew

with the rise of the lights

and I am a mistake.

•

you hold me like that’s okay.

•

I can’t hold onto anything,

my fingers loosen

and my claws recede

and my hands swelter and pulse,

everyone leaves, eventually.

no amount of thick, black noise

escaping my tongue

could ever change that.

fate, god, nature and destiny –

intertwined in the way

that the world holds me,

and my struggle is fading.

•

you hold me

even though I don’t know

how to do the same.

•

12/23/18