Scarce

All I had to give away

was love he hadn't purchased yet.

which left resources scarce.

which left me scared to sell

the remains of my dignity.

which makes me scared to lose

anything, ever again.

Defining shadow perfection

In the run ins

of the ins and outs of my love.

I've found

I've never loved anything

as much as I've loved

the shadow he cast.

His shadow

was wonderful,

but the light framed his face

like a halo frames

the fruit of a flame.

And at times,

his beauty was too much.

His shadow

was much easier to love.

It appeared

and disappeared.

When the sun would set

like it always does.

in the far off hills,

by the time,

shadow lover

disappeared

There was no ray

cast on his brow

His shadow was less disappointing.

He created,

Shadow perfection;

perfection in the form of

beauty that comes between

the light he casts

and my cold surface.

Beautiful shapes

he created.

The second his foot

graced my floors.

Danger Danger.

I fell in love

with the lillies he

brought to the front of my house

within his smile,

the pastey white petals clashed

into the ivory of his teeth.

It's easy to melt 

when his touch is the sun.

I keep craving it,

like I've been sheltered for so long.

I keep telling him

I've been without his love

for too long.

dancing in

Overcoming grief

is a lot like

dancing in the dark.

Each step, could be the right step

it could be the wrong step,

but you're stepping 

because the power

of the overwhelming

music of life

the pace of life,

it teaches you to think fast.

But God help me,

I was born with two left feet.

Alone-ity

Being alone

isn't so bad,

once you realize

everybody,

who is anybody

does it.

-2 days

In two days

with no sleep

I have met

a dead poet.

Absence makes the heart grow colder

Forgotten nights,

riddled my temporary

sanitary-mindset.

In the blankets,

pressed against my young skin,

I used to ask for him.

In all her sainthood,

leaning against her bed,

my mother promised me bigger skies.

In her calmest voice

she soothed the aches

of my love, which was met

with unexpected visitation.

and tomorrowless apologies.

I listened to a day without rain,

the hums of a softer person

showed me the brighter planets

outlined in glow tape

on the ceiling of my childhood room.

Telling me he missed me

wrinkled out the worry

pressed so firmly

on my abandoned chest.

Pressed so hard,

I reluctantly accepted.

And he wonders why

in the Spring of my life,

I refuse to accept his phone calls,

And in the Fall of my life,

I'll refuse him privileges a father earns.

And in the Winter of his life,

Maybe he'll recall

he had a daughter,

before anything else.

Child

I know that I'm asleep

when I'm touching 

the tips of your fingers.

It's a sleep that eases the pain

of losing you.

In my delirium,

I touch the remains

of my remains,

now vacant.

Information

The issue with your absence, is your absence.

I would not have such a difficult time,

forgiving a dream.

Masochist Muscle

Maybe they'll hunger

for something I can give them

My light is getting so dim,

I couldn't house another

soul sucker.

Sometimes forgetting about

functions of my parts

like the beating of this

masochist muscle

helps me forget about

the filth I know.

Helps me forget about it so bad

it's like

it never even existed.

Things I'd do if I could love, lately.

Sleep,

how I miss thee.

I can almost fade out 

his crashing sirens

his forged I love you's,

the ding-dong ditching 

he played at the door of my heart.

For a second, I think rest may be knocking

knocking at my sticky eyelids.

but reality sets in,

and motion sickness happens

in the stillest of nights.

Sunny Delicious

Faith,

born into the romancing

of my tender slender hands.

he makes me laugh so hard

I throw back my head,

I haven't laughed 

from a real part of me,

in a long time.

The color that had

all faded into

calloused grey.

develops patterns of red 

within these lips of mine

which held so much laughter back.

But now I'm laughing.

all for the sake of my laughter.

and I think I love it.

Man in the moon

The quick grunt he made

was not near as satisfying

as the night he became me

and jumped off every bridge he could find.

Life is beautiful,

just like the fur i own, 

like the crystal i collect.

However sleeping with stones and fiber

ruins the last pale parts

of my sun carved skin.

This city is overwhelming,

like being fucked up on a tire swing, 

holding your breath whilst injecting

every word a liar has ever fork tongued 

into virginal ears. 

The last part of me

that remained virginal, 

jumped off the bridge with him

the night he became me.

And if anyone else knows

the horns my soul 

keeps honking, its him.

Ask him when you find him, 

if at the climax

of his impact

he found my secret soul 

in the core of the earth.

I used to jump on trampolines 

reaching for the moon, 

because I loved it.

When I realized

the moon was connected

to my own noose

I fell in love with the man in him, 

the thrill of his possible kills.

But the night the moon became me, 

it was morning as soon as we touched.