4.3.17

Insecurity

Of stature, positioning

Word choice and identity

 

There is no cosmetic modification, superficial alteration

Capable of providing relief

No respite from dysphoria

 

But embellish me with glittering distractions from inner turmoil

Paint me, contour my surfaces

Hide me below layers of adornment

 

I am trying to stay hidden

Underneath eyelash

Underneath straightened, curled, and brushed

Primed, powdered, set

Disguised

 

But beneath, I shift

And even when my movement is not seen, it is felt

Seismic energy creating quivering pretense

3.9.2017

Blues

Watercolor on the skin

 

I will not look you in the eye while I lie about the origin of these bruises

Or at all today

 

I see you growing tired

These months carving caverns beneath your eyes

You are not lacking in compassion

Only endurance

 

I am tired, too

I cannot keep my eyes open

I want to go to sleep while I’m still happy

2.25.2017

Tears and snowflakes falling at similar intervals

As I consider how you want to kill yourself in order to fertilize the breeding ground of your reincarnation

I am so in love with this version of you

I worry my heart will die when they do

 

I am mourning a loss that has not yet occurred

And wondering if there is a quota for how much pain can be accommodated within one relationship

I’m finding myself holding in my hurt

So that you may suffer more comfortably

 

It feels like familiar sickness

Contorting myself into tolerable doses

Eventually non-existence

While watching you bind and alter to attain your truest form

2.1.2017

This is holiness

Good dreams, euphoria

Downy and sweet

Holistic pleasure

 

We are making homes in one another’s souls

Your door has a window, receiving second hand sunlight from the heavens

 

There is no midnight or noon, or time at all

There is only a fullness

Cores overflowing with blossoming flowers, glittering light emanating from security

 

This is everything

1.22.2017

Toxic

Swirling, circling, swelling, filling the room

Filling you

And poisoning us both

 

No matter what he told you, it is not pure

Because there is residue, and imperfection cannot dissipate into the air

It builds up

Creating borders and boundaries, forming walls around you before stealing the ones you had

 

Is there anything lonelier than self-imposed isolation?

Is the high keeping you company?

 

Your stitching is coming undone

1.14.2017

I’m trying to tell myself not to get caught up on the little things, the things that don’t matter

But I am keenly aware of the fact that a collection of the insignificant is what constitutes the intangible

And that the basis of feeling is immeasurable

 

So anxiety persists

(pink and white, pink to white)

The simultaneous is now the transitional

Your hair is shorter now and so is my attention span

But I still have the focus to take in the complexity of your irises, whether purple or green

Losing phone calls in the blankets: a pastime they will never understand

 

I am not alone when I am with you, but together we are a singularity