Scream

I want you to listen to the
scream trapped beneath the surface
of your skin,
feel the bubble rising up into the sky
and burst with the realities of
this relationship ending.
Because, because I'll lick it clean when nobody's watching,
simmer in the sweet, kiss back the wounds,
seal it all up while trying to block the sounds
of dying
that echo through these compartment days.
I want you to realize, I want you
to taste the bruises on the underside of
the white picket fence,
drink the dirt down, swallow the garden whole and
pluck the feathers of this dream apart and cook it raw,
Because, because you never know
the sensibilities of emptiness dying,
your body crying the tears that come with
the blue pain of nightmares,
while the voice grows softer still.
I want you to listen to the
scream trapped beneath the surface
of your skin and
realize
that this is the end.

organic

for my college professor.

there are these moments
when I'm left with nothing
but a white haze that slowly
clouds through my brain
in an attempt to rid myself
of your voice in my head.
for it's been eight months
and I can't quite let this anger
dissolve along my bones
and wash away into the fresh grass
of summer, my legs
cross into the sky and this page
still blank of all the empty words
forming in the base of my mouth,
my tongue dry against my teeth
in the silence I carried all year
around you.
because I had given up waiting
for this to get better
and am still trying to slowly rebuild,
to strip away the embellishments
and go back to my foundation
before I let you touch my writing
and imprint your voice,
your rhythm, your structure
and design over mine
in an unconscious attempt to please you
and your anger and disappointment
even though I could never have controlled
the outcome of your moods.
because I want to go back to when
this was all organic, uncontrolled
in an all consuming spiral of words,
the pages of my notebooks sticky and matted
with blood, flowers and molted
with colours against the damp of my tongue
licking the ink from the tip of my pen,
with poetry as my lover,
stripped naked to the core of my words
and my voice scratched raw across the page.
there is no need for your words here.