Overdue
but here are some things I found from the past few months..
I know I have more but who knows where they are..
my writing teacher never gives anything back.
Turning your back on me
so violently.
This isn't what, this isn't what
I intended at all.
He said it was stupid
to think we could friends.
But I'm still stuck
where we decided to end.
I can't stop shaking
and spinning
like the fan blades above me.
I'm hopeless and tactless
empty branches of a tree.
I am waving.
Tossing and spinning
and when the sea
seems to calm for a spell
instead I crash and shatter
upon the shore. No pauses
or breaks, angry ocean wants
more than I can give
unless its giving up on hope
and a lifeboat that floats.
An anchor to hold me in place
but for now I spray and tumble
face first, always restless
for the next heavy storm
to wash me overboard.
Is this a symptom?
Not enough air is reaching my lungs and my eyes are starting to burn and my disappointment will soon overflow onto this rooftop and I know that some must just be destined for disaster or at least I can't think of a better excuse for the decisions you're making these choices taking you down down further away from what you could be and what you need to be and what I need you to be we are so precarious and all of this air between us is thickening and stifling and smothering my cries of course everything dies but does that include your future? I don't want to breathe-in your diseased desires or be stung by her poisonous hold on your life. My fingers are already numb from straying too close I'm sorry I'm sorry I don't know why I can't seem to save you but you're ripping me apart.
The comfort of
your lovers, or anothers
skin against yours,
a precarious balance
of being less than alone.
The sun's hot caress
smoothing down my hair
breathing beams of
warm light,
apart of something more.
In the screams of my day,
the restlessness of night,
I can be anchored.
Comforted and secure,
both soft on my cheek-
each lulling me to sleep.