i would have

I would have let you love me
I would have died a thousand times before
Letting you see the certainty
That your love will never be
Enough for me

I would have let you hold me
And I would ask a hundred questions
To make certain your intentions
Were pure and good and true
But I couldn’t do the same
For you.

I would have let you kiss me
I would let you put your face on mine
And hold my hands until the end of time
But if you asked me to kiss your sorest spot
I’m afraid that’s simply
Asking a lot

I would have let you keep me
In a box with all your favorite things
Candy and roses and diamond rings
But inside I would rot away
And resent your love
For making me stay.

I would have let you love me
I’m certain it’s nicer than bleeding out
A love with roots immersed in doubt
That colors red all the thoughts in my head
And turns ambition into dread

I would still let you love me
If it were possible to be
In love with you the same way
As you have always
Loved me.

august 5

You arrive in a flutter
of eyelashes and pointed elbows
Crossed arms and impatient cigarette drags
Your breath is shallow and your skin
soft and panicking at the notion
that I might brush it with my own
We chat like strangers
and I wonder
how we came to be
So formal and unbothered
By the confines of societal niceties
How strange we must look,
Standing here
with stories in our eyes
and hearts full
of venom and roses
Our mouths
silently forming the stories we swore we’d never share
Our hands holding one another’s
in passing
Imaginary moments
Your sweater flutters
and I wonder what is under it
What is inside the man I once unraveled in the moonlight
Who’s chest bore my dreams
and my soft wavering breaths
Who tasted like a riverbed,
and grasped my skin
with soft clay fingernails
I can’t help but imagine you are bandaged somehow
a love veteran
Returning from the trenches to reclaim the demon
Who scarred your youth
Stole your smile
And made you heavy
Blood-soaked and silent, your eyes burn into mine
Yes,
This man is different
And I wonder if his heart
looks the same under his ribs,
Or if I managed
To destroy that,
As well.

at the seams

you picked up my broken pieces
and never asked why
you glued me back together
and never blinked an eye

you set me in a bed of roses
and brushed my tattered hair
you fed me sunlight and ocean tides
gave me warm clothes to wear

you kissed my sores and bleeding hands
and gently wrapped them up
you helped me learn how to run
when I was certain I couldn't stand up

you took on a sadness that wasn't yours
and you carried it overseas
across the mountains and through the forest
you carried my disease

and when you reached the end of time
you tossed it to the sky
and we watched the tiny pieces
fall like tiny sighs

and for the first time i saw the parts
of myself i thought were black
burned and charred like empty coals
parts i wanted to give back

but they danced and sparkled and shimmered bright
as they fell among our sides
and you held me ever so softly
and shouldered my shuddering cries

you made me love the holes in me
the flaws i tried to mask
you fed them and you cared for them
as if it were but a simple task

and though i know i tell you
far less often than you deserve
i'd die without your grace and care
there's no one else on this earth

who can see such light in the darkness
who holds my hands so true
who welcomes any and all i am
who always sees me through

and though for now
we have a mason jar
filled with unspent hopes
and dreams
my love for you is unbridled,
overflowing,
and bursting
at the seams

overjoyed

i've been overcompensating
for my underdeveloped,
overproduced thoughts
about the real world
and where we fit

unappreciative
of the unabashed
understanding
you've shown me,
i tried to make you quit

overwhelmed
with the day's undertaking
i pushed you away,
now i'm swimming in the overtones
of your laughter
and i'd like
for you to stay

unknowingly
you acknowledged
my very parts
that were undermined
for years
and now i'm swallowing
my pride
instead of
swallowing
my tears.

Spring

spring
reveals itself
much like the whisper
of a church bell
in the early dawn,
not yet heard,
but buzzing with the vibration
of the coming light

it glitters
on waves of careless crests
the multitudes of grateful praises
unheard through the bleak bluster and salt
of winter
crying out
to the stranger sun
sparkling ever fondly
as the memory of youth

it busts
through aching windowpanes
the sweetness of its breath
bring burning tears of relief
its joyful canter knocks books off shelves,
lifts dust off floors,
and shakes sadness down
from cavernous corners

it grows
on rooted paths and tree branches
on spider webs and fingertips
on sunlit streams,
kitchen sinks,
and pairs of shoes
ever-revealing a lightness
in the heaviest of things,
never-concealing the grey
that came before it

it dances
a crazed and frenzied tango
of the elements
a passionate exposition upon the living
and those to come
it lunges for summer
and the promise of simplicity
echoing the cries of newborns
and the shadows of the deceased

it gives
like a dam held too long
tearing through stone which was laid down
thousands of years before
they are nothing but a whisper
an ancient speck
a forgotten tendril

spring explodes
cascading through valleys
a sun-kissed frenzy
giving birth to light
nourishing the womb of the earth
with the ease of youth
she lifts the veil
and shields the stars
with the universal certainty
that joy
prevails.

little brother

I remember climbing trees and
pretending to shoot
each other from branches
across the back lot
mixing magic potions
out of mud and milk weed
until all the sadness was
almost forgot.

I remember 50 cents
for a can of orange soda
which we'd share
from the vending machine
down the block
and the old man who we always
thought was blind
waved “hello” and told us how big
we'd got.

At six years old
you taught me to skateboard,
and I taught you to jump rope
We'd race on our bikes
as the light flicker-faltered
down country roads
as we tried to remember
dad's jokes.

I remember your blond hair
sucking on your own fingers
we'd fight over who got
to open the mail
I remember playing dress up
in grandma's nightgowns
and your hat with the little
black raccoon tail

I remember the train
that passed through the back yard
the rain barrel with goldfish
that grandpa had saved
I remember the squish
of dirt and mud
that was our play ground
until dad had it paved.

I remember hay bales and
putting straw in our teeth
and sharing the sunset
in an old truck bed,
but most of all I remember
my first
and favorite and definitely
most irreplaceable
first
best
friend.

Sometimes II

I look at pictures of you
sometimes, only in my mind
I wonder what your breath tastes like
and if you ever
miss the taste of mine.