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Thursday, August 23, 2012


Are we simply treading water? Or would our love, as oxygen to me, rush to meet the surface of this stagnancy like a spinning orb of air from the deepest parts of us? Would it be our embolism? Would you punish my vanity and self-righteous heart that pulled me from you with clenched eyelids, my teeth as bits of gravel? Are we holding our breath, rubbing tongue to palette, to to savor a new beginning? Or are we mute, our lungs deflated from heaving our separate cries to the nature of young love? We never chase what is impassable. We never reach to touch the haloed edge of orange clouds. We kiss the soft skin before us and turn down our eyes in doubt. Would we look up and smile?

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

7/ 14/12

I cried the day I murdered you.
Like a broken bird I spread my arms wide to embrace the free air
and tried to endure the pain of flying.
I cried the month I murdered you.
Like a diamond whore I wore my shining smiles to greet each eager customer
but dropped them clattering like chains as I stole up the stairs to my bedroom.
I cried the year I murdered you.
Like a salted wound, my sluggish heart ticks aching with the loss of you.

When I saw your ghost on a sunny Friday at noon, it was as if you'd resurrected me along with you. Since the moment my eyes left yours, the thought of you has been my flight, my smile, the strong beat of my heart, and my own suicide all at once. We float together as ghosts in our secret world.