a house with good bones
is still a corpse
and
my mouth is
just a quiver
full of arrows
ready to conduct
a symphony

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I have to remind myself
that it's ok to find relief
in leaving 
when it feels
like taking off shoes
that are two sizes too small.

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When I say I love,
I mean
I fall in 
whole,
swallowed up,
while it licks
its lips.
I am
human ruins
in
a wild man's fire.
The last fallen leaf,
victim of 
a strong storm's breath.
The empty lungs
of a collapsed truth.
The drained ocean
lost in paradise.

I am 
the bloody gurgle
of a war cry.

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how many times did we justify a scar
because we love the person
holding the knife?
how many times did we equate
a deep cut with equally deep love?
how many times did we convince ourselves that if anyone was allowed to hurt us,
it should be them?

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you were so content
keeping me at arms length
so I ended up
in someone else's
with a trail of teeth
behind me

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I'm worried that I'm losing it.
and I don't know what "it"
is, exactly.
but I can feel it leaving.

my face has been numb 
this week,
but this time,
not from weeping.

I used to write passionately
about love that leaves
and fills my space with empty,
about being comfortable 
in my lonely,
about the chaos
in longing.

but if you beg the sky
hard enough
for long enough,
she will...

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such a divine gift
lay draped around her neck.
angels pantomiming inside gemstone walls,
each shimmer of light
is a fight,
a scream,
a plea
for release.
grieving diamonds are still diamonds,
trapped in animosity.

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my eyes did give worship
to every hint of olive on his skin.
I whisper a Hail Mary
and surrender 
to the kiss of another bullet.

his armor, amatory.
mine, antiquated.
pray,
prey.

a pair of tangled beasts
never knew such beauty.
 

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it's
fearful stutters
on lips with a lisp,
gaping wide open,
autopsy of the chest.

it's wretched.
and painstakingly
beautiful.

and oh, how I love it.

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