She surrendered to the dream
within a café and the hope
of once dying embers
Anticipation arrives as restless wind;
their future, vague,
yet full of trepidatious longing.
He has been gone all
of two weeks, and still
he appears on the train
at her door
with open arms
promising a life together, shouting
his words skyward:
I need you like air, nicotine,
and conflict. Three years
of heartache will endure…
She reaches to him
and touches his hand –
he is not yet there.
red stains on the wall,
a reminder of shattered glass,
kool-aid dripping to the floor.
stale whiskey on his breath,
spoiled hot sauce in the trash,
an unforgiveable offense.
the red stains weep
for the shattered girl upon the floor.
droplets of blood welling up
in half-moon tears up and down her arms.
scar tissue gouged
in the depths of one too young to comprehend
that the horror he felt
for his deviant genetics was not
when his own blood splattered
hotel walls, she understood,
her love could never save him from himself.
she commemorates with ink
‘Ruin is a gift’
where he’d left his mark
so many years before.
My longing is a hole that is nothing
but what remains around it. Once,
I wanted to be the white wind. Once,
I wanted anyone to fill me. I reach
for anyone willing. A soldier buttons himself
back into khaki, he looks up at me
and rubs his eyes, but I
am not there. A strange lostness
bodily present, the same body
broken open. Tell me what you know
about a body, and I will tell you how
it turns against itself. Letting the space
I free up remain vacant, a room that
remains locked, pieces of the moon
leaving for an empty home.
Nobody loves this genius child.