I am sleeping now,
but I pour myself
a cup of coffee,
I add whiskey
and grab a spoon
I wonder if
I’ll wake up soon.

I am sleeping, still,
but I tie my shoes.
I grab my keys
and I lock the door.
I just don’t want
to hurt anymore.

Am I sleeping?
The sun is silent
and it sinks
against my skin.
I take a breath,
I hold it in.

I am awake again,
as I breathe your name,
it anchors my soul
and fills my bones.
I am a monument
that stands alone.

And then you’re gone,
with the setting sun
and I watch the world
come undone
and I tumble in
to a hollow grave
carrying with me
all the love you gave,

God let me be sleeping,
and when the sun rises
let me find him here.
When the morning comes
let him be near.

I am falling apart
and he’s walked away
with all my heart.

The wind wages its wars
against the mountain tops
but whispers against the willows.

Strength and sadness
both bear the same touch.

fragments

My shadow stretches away from here.
I haven’t been sober for a week.

The concrete riots against me.
This world was never meant
to be carried alone.

I hold the willow’s roots
in the marrow of my bones.

The sun is setting
and I’m chasing it down.
Sadness is too heavy
so I might as well drown.

Humans can’t fly
but at least I mastered the fall -

Sometimes I wish
I’d never been born at all.

Wait,
give me a minute.
I need a second to breathe.
I need the air in my lungs
so that I have it when you leave,
cause the moment you go
and walk out that door,
I’m not going to want
to live anymore.

You call yourself the wind
and I call you a tragedy.

Something so free
is unbound.
Something so free
is lonely.

Where do you rest your head
when exhaustion heavies
your soul?

Who keeps you warm
after the sun sets?

You call yourself the wind
and I think how sad it is
to be so unreachable.

No one can call you home
when you lose yourself.

And I don’t know who
or when or how.
I just know my life
was rewritten in your name.

There was something at work
in the universe,
be it God or the stars
or fate.
Something brought you to me
and bound me to your name.

I felt my soul unravel before you,
blooming like a rose
or an oil spill -
both heedless, both beautiful.

I was a spectator
watching my future
play out before me
and it looked a lot like

you on that same Sunday morning,
pressing a cup of coffee to your lips.

You smiled,
and I could only feel home.

You end each night with,
“Think of me when you fall asleep”.

I never had a choice, darling.

Every day I breathe your name
as if it was my saving grace.
I keep your heart pressed in my palms
the way sinners do their prayers.

I do not deserve your love
yet I hold you anyways,

and I’ve never been religious
but all my faith lies with you.

You say my name and I’m saved,
hallelujah, I am saved.

I wake in the morning
to the sound of your name
anchoring my brain.

I shiver in the morning wind
and I remember the way your lips
whispered prayers against my skin.

It dances across my palms
and sinks into my bones
the way your breath did.

You are light entombed in humanity.
A blinding flare of brilliance.
Temporary.

I wake in the morning
and watch the sun
rise from its bed.

You are heavy lidded
and your first breath
always holds my name.

I’m bruised knees
and bleeding palms,
quivering heart
and heavy soul.

I’m breaking beneath
the weight of the world
whenever I’m around you.

The gravity of your smile
pulls me in to the sweetest darkness.
I am so cold, here,
standing in the maw of space.

I can’t breath around you.
And oh, what a beautiful way to go.

There are so many stars, darling.

They say love is blind
but mine is oblivious,

clinging to words like lifelines
without learning to swim.

I’m drowning in his heartbeat
and sinking like a ship -

Lord let me anchor his soul.
He already harbors my own.

Mama, he’s everywhere.

He’s in the Willow
that weeps against my shoulders,
tendrils brushing my skin
in a silent apology.

He’s in the setting sun,
bruising the sky with indigo
and its crimson wars.
He’s kissing the horizon goodbye.

He’s in the moonlight, mama,
tucking me into the dreams
that he is entombed within.

He’s in my lungs,
haunting every word.

He’s in the blood
that riots in my veins.

He’s in my heart,
rooted so deeply
that he’s ensnared my soul.

Mama, I love him.

Temporary.

The sun that touches my skin
will set before today’s end,
the moonlight that tucks me in
will wane from the sky,
and the stars that reign proudly
will fall beneath the weight of my wishes.

I am held by light that only knows
how to say goodbye.
The universe kisses me away.
My soul is bruised
with the colors of the galaxy.

I have only ever been temporary.
The whisper of life
that never quite lasted through Spring.

If we fall in love,
there’s nothing we could do.

You’d hold my heart
and ask me to choose,

Could I forsake
my family for you?

This skin has survived
twenty years of torment,
neglect, hatred,
it has never known peace
or comfort or love.

The soul imprisoned
beneath it
riots against the surface
and screams
in the marrow of my bones.

I have walked this Earth
two decades, now,
and every step
has been a battle cry.

I am breaking
from the inside out,
and my heart
is the only casualty.

It’s okay to be sad in Spring

Let the sun seep into your skin
on Sunday mornings,
feel its caress and forgive
the love who no longer holds you.

Let the grass kiss your toes
and let the willow weep in your honor,
it’s okay to be sad in Spring.

When you press your hands together
feel your pulse, strong and relentless.
Accept that life holds you
with a noose-like grip,
thank it for keeping you
when nothing else would.

Taste your food. Actually taste it.
Put too much salt on your fries,
too much sugar in your coffee.
Remind yourself that there is something
still “good” in this world.

When night falls, allow the moon
to tuck you into a silent sleep.
Bear the aching in your heart
for the hope in your dreams.
Let it show you fear,
let it show you its longings,
let it show you that pain
is not the only thing you can feel.

It’s Monday morning,
the sun still lingers on your skin.
This world will not leave you
even though someone has.
Let the grass kiss your toes,
let the Willow weep for you.

It’s okay to be sad in Spring.