what is left

You are not here.
And I am losing my will to breathe,
to move forward as I allow myself
to unroll at the seams,
careening forward into indulgence.
I am left with your weight
on my heart, your scent
crowded along the edges
of my body, teeth rattling,
breath heaving as I am gasping,
trying to fill myself full
of what memories I have
left of you
before they fail me.

Writing For You

06/20/12

I am writing for you,
about you,
the beat of my heart on the line,
the collapse of my lungs
as I breathe these words
over and over.
I find I don't know how
to deal with it anymore.

Descending

There are these moments
when I find myself locked back
within the confines
of your embrace,
your arms a dead weight slowly descending
upon the curves of my throat,
my fingers locked into
the strands of your hair falling loose
across our faces
as the sounds of breathing
grow louder against
the stretch of this moment
as I pray for you not to let go
before you end it all.

Forget You

This is the moment I'm afraid of,
the slide of the train derailed,
my breath a white gasp
against my teeth
as I run my body down into the sidewalk
in an attempt to fling myself
into your arms
before you shatter away from me.
I have the blood of your heart
in my ears
and the beat of your body
on my tongue
as I attempt to kiss
our relationship away from my skin,
peel your lips clean
from my hair, gag and swallow
your scent below the level
of conscious memories
of this day.
I'm crying and praying
to forget you.

The Lines of this Moment

I breathe beyond the shallows
of the deep, my arms open wide
to catch the current
passing through my skin,
traveling along the lines, creases,
veins, pumps and gears of my body
as it slowly winds forward
into the reef,
the incredible light
along the lines of this moment
a faint trace along my shoulders,
your breath a bubble against my lips,
the split cry of this second
a burst behind my ears
as I dive forward into the calm
of the water,
and then...
nothing.