I wonder where it is the line is drawn,
between loving someone when they need it – when they need you but cannot let you need them – and letting your love be
spent like money in a rich girl’s hands,
swallowed whole in one gasp,
threatening to leave you empty if you just give enough.

I wonder if you mean the words you say,
if they are the children of your secrets, spilling out between the masks you like to wear for fun.
Or if instead they are your particular breed of poison,
lingering on my skin with the promise to be fatal someday.

I wonder when you decided it was okay,
when busy became a reasonable excuse to leave me screaming,
when in my life I’ve only ever asked you for three days and yet two of them you have been too encompassed by yourself.

I wonder when it is I became nothing more than your sustenance,
your net to catch you if the moment comes when he lets you go,
and I wonder when it is I will become sick of this reductional role you’ve given me.

I wonder when you will be able to see through your own pain,
or rather when it is you will be willing.

I wonder when you will become my friend again and not a question I keep asking myself of how much damage my heart can take.

These are the things I wonder, anyway.


memories like secret weapons for the pain

I remember the way you let me sit in the front seat of a car headed nowhere, my

music beating like a lullaby on the radio, the

ocean passing by the window like a secret only we knew, like

artwork made for me and you, and

the way we kept going while the roads wound behind until

the sun began to fall back into the arms of the night and

it was time to go back to the things we’d left behind.

inner demons

you can feel the darkness spreading in your

chest, extending its fingers through the humble gaps in your

ribcage, gathering all your oxygen in one slow gasp and

leaving you breathless, so

you stare hazily at the zipper below your

neck and wonder when you will have the

strength to pull it