[i've been meaning to put these up for ages]

fille et homme

if i pinch myself,
i know i’ll still be here—always
will i be here, in this place

a fire crackling next to a
beast, mechanical & tumbling
this makeshift shelter
i’m the girl who—

dirt caught in a funnel, soaked in wet
bridges to cross—meet me halfway
boy, inside & out

youthful, sandy blonde, shag
both faces smudged with paint of
neon green, glowing
Oh, like nuclear waste in the park

blanketed, small
—tender
faces & eyes,

sudden, awoken by honking
deep within the city, the busy apple below
—dream over
___________________________________________________________

i lost my muse on a hot summer’s day:
i only realized it just then.
the pen’s ink stopped flowing,
my pages were blank,
the sun light was searing against my flesh;
i sat in a complete void.
i found my muse on a cold,
dreary night,
when i thought of moments past.
the wide open window is my screen
and outside the flakes look reel
but inside oh
i know things have spoiled
___________________________________________________________

it hurts like pins sticking to my skin
and each being pulled out one by one;
it hurts like being stretched across land
far too vast for my body to hold
it hurts like watching you
on the other side of the glass
as the conductor whistles
and we start to pull out of the station
my reflection in your face
that face which I do not know when i’ll see next
it hurts like knowing you’ve left something behind
and that you can’t get it back
i’m too tired for proper goodbyes
____________________________________________________________

into

four
three
count on your fingers
the times of us
we.
there’s a line on the paper
to remind me of you as I inhale
there’s a piece of scrap, a note,
rationalizing you.

i remember my head against your shoulder
ragged breath
this territory is new
oh you,
Whatcha say?

i remember my body against yours
laced
small, fast moments
I don’t believe you
days, months
pleading without words
You don’t care a bit
laughing it off so you will see
i don’t care a bit.
but.
I really do

three, four
two.
one. Celebrations
under the disco ball
you smell the same.
snowflakes on my lashes,
soft,
full,
you are so warm against me
pull me into you,
first.
inhale.
you smell the exact same.

you can’t see it in my face
disappoint—
furrowed, bubbling
raw
and there is now
silence.
pretend we never existed
our lives never braided together
the knot is in my stomach.
try so hard to forget—you
turn into.
It’s all for the best,
right?