Winter time has a hold on me.
From the frozen cherry tree.
Whose love I knew was free.
To warm breezes but not me.
Time promised me a spring bride.
From winter's melting towers stride.
Whose warmth towards me never shied.
Until Fall came forth, chilling my bride.
Have the world's leaves turned?
From the sun's rays, the green burned.
Whose embers’ heat I had learned.
Could the sun forgive my heart?
For turning?
From stride to stumble
as the leaves under me
crumbled.
I asked her to hold me
but winter came
and froze me.
So now when snow falls
I become one with the ground
hoping that beautiful sound
is you.
I feel as though these roots burden my steps, and yet I hold it against you that I cling to the ground.
As if you are to blame for gravity or safety.
Nobody told me how to feel, so I lie awake wondering if this is real.
How the sky is blue or the ocean is deep, or how my heart beats for you.
In that moment, you were not to blame.
You never asked to become my moon and stars.
Yet here I lie, wishing you could read my thoughts
or wanting the world to be what it is not.
I lied to you.
I lied to myself.
But worst of all,
my lie is rooted so deep I don't know what's real.
Maybe I will wake up, and this will all be a dream.
I am afraid.
Because I love this nightmare too much to believe it isn't real.
For every bit of truth I found to be meaningless
and every strength I had to be powerless.
All this time I've spent
willing the ocean to be solid and still
has only left me tired and cold.
The most important piece of myself isn't real
and I'm terrified of that truth.
Because it means I've spent my life being someone I'm not,
and here I am at the beginning of possibility with no direction.
Take a step and breathe me in.
However you take your vices—
up your nose or through your veins—
don't stop, breathe me in.
He said, "It hurts."
"Don't be such a baby."
You wanted to know how it feels.
Take a step back,
hold your breath,
suck it up,
suck it in.
If these were just numbers, then why are you here?
These bones are hidden
beneath the skin,
so scared of the truth,
you've become thin.
Shhhh, "We don't use that word,"
like the truth is gonna hurt me.
I loved shots as a kid;
shoot me up,
don't stop, breathe me in.
How does it feel?
The short, cold, painful breathing,
like a clownfish.
This pack of menthols
is my sea anemone—
don't stop, breathe me in.
Drugs are bad,
but so is food,
and yet they say you're sick,
and fat people are too.
I guess I was never good at perfection.
I made a home in your bones,
so even when you're cold,
I'll warm you.
Let me love you
like the moon loves the sun.
She warms the day;
He cools the night.
And with the breezes in between,
they breathed life into us—
don't stop, breathe me in.
Let me make refuge in your lungs,
so every empty word
fills itself with hope,
and every bad dream
has a happy ending.
Let my light reach you.
I have a heavy hurt with you.
I love you because I'm trapped,
and with you,
I am free.
I knew better when I saw him knocking, the wheels in his head returning, and I could see the mice behind his eyes. I let him in, and he was nothing but trouble. He sauntered towards me with a look of melting ice slowly sinking into the floor around my feet and into the soles of my shoes. It's the middle of December, so it's no wonder my feet are cold. He went to plant a chaste kiss on my lips, and in a very unladylike fashion, I regarded him with a moan. To put it frankly, we were getting into heavy petting while at my brother's pet store, and then, in a not very romantic slam against what we thought was the wall, we let loose the mice. He smiled deviously and started to help me catch them, saying, "Happy 300-day anniversary." I glared at him. "Very funny."
It's really hot! What I wouldn't give to have air conditioning again. I hate coconuts! I used to love them; they were my trip to a tropical paradise while casually walking around the mall. But now, all there is to eat are coconuts and fish. I miss a lot of stuff that used to not matter: tap water at 11:30 at night, my cat snuggled in bed next to me, my wedding ring. I look at the sand in between my toes and pretend it's him. He's there, making a home inside me. I start to cry because it's not fair. I start to cry because it's not enough. I pick up the sand with my hands and kiss it, if only that were enough. How my body yearns to feel his touch again, even if only for a moment. I sit in the sand and close my eyes while my hand plunges deep into it. I remember his hands caressing my cheek, and while looking into his eyes, he kisses my lips, leaving my body languid and wanting more.
Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long fingers of twilight across the ground. I watched the sky bleed colors—fiery oranges and deep purples—wondering how something so beautiful could exist alongside the darkness that clung to me. It felt like a cruel joke, a reminder that even in the depths of despair, life continued to move forward. The cicadas began their nightly symphony, their song a haunting echo of the chaos within me, and I found myself longing for the stillness that never seemed to come.
As I reached for my phone, the coolness of the screen felt foreign against my clammy palms. I hesitated, wondering if I should reach out or simply let the silence consume me. I thought of his voice, how it used to wrap around me like a warm embrace, and how now it was just another ghost lingering in the corners of my mind. I wanted to scream, to shatter the fragile calm that surrounded me, but all that escaped my lips was a choked whisper. In that moment, I understood the weight of absence, the way it seeped into the cracks of my soul, filling them with a heaviness I couldn't shake.
