It’s opposite day,
and I hate those piercing eyes –
all sharpened storm clouds
soaking up soft lighting rods
as if rules did not matter here,
only you and I. Roofed under
rewinding time, spooling moments
tangle but do not tame our desire to
pull a little more breath out of each
other, we, are the disobedient children
of the night. Forgetting what was yours
and what will be mine, listen, as water
breaks outside. We are safe here,
I assure you, before I look to the skies,
send my silent prayer for this phantom
pain in chest to subside.
Say, do you remember when
we pressed our palms together
and our lifelines intertwined –
I wonder how many millimeters
of time can be measuring in
these tangled memories.
get lost in frayed thoughts,
set tears on fire so cooled hearts
remember what numb is not,
even if the burn is less passion and
more pain, feel it from femur to fingertips.
sometimes I wake up from dreams
that have more vibrancy than reality,
haven’t we all lied in bed for what could
have been a moment or stretched by shadow
into days, into a daze, eyes closed,
trying to slot scrambled scenes into a movie
where we get the happy ending we deserve
before the light turns back on?
when boredom creeps in,
I hold my breath and watch the clock
tick down just so emptiness gains form
and I can be reminded that this body,
gasping for air, wants to be alive.
Tonight, the sky is black.
Fire is calm, heart obsidian, cuts
life in unequal halves.
the morning after
she pretended vodka was water
all sleep deprived
and out of her mind
she tried to purge herself of regrets
even if it was mixed in
with chunks of last nights dinner
sticking shame-stained fingers
down her throat
she could not quite reach
any semblance of redemption
she was stuck with the potent perfume of bile
for the rest of the day
and she vowed to not touch smirnoff