This frozen space
where I can’t move forward
but I know I can’t stay here.

Every day
for fifteen years.


I hang above my body
for the moment of escape,
the moment I’ll know
it’s time to take back over,
to get on that bus again,

and go.

Who knows?
But one day
the amber will break
and I’ll finally be free.

I’ll take control
or maybe finally,
and I’ll find my happy.

Those glimpses of cloudy memories
where the smiles were real
and the joy true.

But for now,
I’m still stuck
in this self-made shell,
this stasis,
and all I want is out.



Once and Again

I am in pieces.
Or always.

Either way,
I am only fragments
of who I was
or should be.

I’m not sure why.

Why I’m broken
so infinitely,
so vastly shattered
that I can’t see me anymore.

But…did I ever really see me?
Did I ever trust the words
falling from my own lips?

I’m not even sure of that anymore.
I’m not sure of anything.

Because I’m parsed out
among ruins of something
I’m supposed to call my life.

I am echoes in empty canyons,
reflections in disappearing puddles.

I am once and never.

I am nothing.
Or always.
I’m not really sure.



You gave me a glimpse,
a taste of your skin,
a salty and sweet keyhole of light,

and then you took it away again.

I don’t understand why I care,
why I want so to have your skin
pressed against mine,
to feel your mouth all over me.
Your fingers in my hair
and your breath hovering hotly
on my neck.

To miss someone in new ways,
to crave someone freshly
and with my entire body
makes the ache poignant,
sharp especially when I had it all back
for a half second,
for an instant.

You were mine all over again,
and you were gone all over again.


To Know

I’m sad…again.
Because my ache for you
is so fresh,
again so raw,
so open and bleeding,
so new…again.

I’m shattered by unopened messages,
unread pleadings to be
and pieces crash to the ground,
puddling in pools of unseen desire
to just…know.

To just for once really feel
what it is to crave like he craves,
to need like he needs.

I want to love like I love,
and I need
to hold your shards in my hands,
to feel the sides interlock,
to mold together
like they’ve always meant to be,
to shadow the swarms of broken thoughts

and heal,

But you forgot.
Like I forgot.

And now songs hurt my ears
because you walk inside them,
and I’m afraid of falling memories
as much as I want to wrap myself
in their light.

And I’m afraid of living without living
like I live
or breathing with you
or in some room where I can be
free and safe at the same time.



I wonder how many times you thought about me, how many times I crossed your mind before you decided to cave, to push that button allowing me back in. I wonder if it was hundreds of times, thousands of moments you caught yourself thinking about my lips or my eyes as they stared into yours hoping you’d kiss me just one more time. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m imagining a story that never existed. Maybe it was random and you didn’t dream of having me alone for hours without interruption. Maybe that was all just me hoping for one more chance to feel your skin brush against mine, one more moment where you live inside me and we are one. Or maybe we belong to each other in ways we never imagined. Maybe our dreams are supposed to be real.

Ache Isn’t a Strong Enough Word

I ache for you,
your dark eyes
and hot mouth
tracing my skin
like a map to ectasy.

I miss your dark hair
and the way you grasp my face
when you kiss me.

I miss you
like men starved
for sun
or food
or shelter.

I ache for
your fingers in my hair,
your voice slowly caressing my name
as you gasp in my ear,

and I don’t know if I’ll be able
to wait much longer,
if I’ll be able to stop myself
from touching you,
from kissing you,
from feeling all of you
against all of me.

I don’t know if
I can stop myself
from falling
even though I know
every moment is a cliff
and every word is a leap.


Solution to Anxiety

Pain ripples through my bones,
sends aftershocks
trembling over my skin,

and I don’t know where it comes from.

I vibrate with hot breaths,
flying fast from lungs
that don’t feel like mine,
while flames rip their way
out of my eyes,
and the air thickens,
pollutes my mouth,
yet I gasp for it
because it’s the only thing
that will fix,
remedy this incessant pounding
of my blood aching to get out
of my body.

For no reason.

Wasted muscles for days,
throbbing for release that doesn’t come.

I have no control.
I am helpless

to choose,
to breathe,
to move,

and that’s why I let you own me,
why I let you command from me.

Because I choose it,
because I have the control
to release my power,
to relinquish all I am

to you,
to your desires,

and all I have to do is

move, breathe, accept.


Is this my life?

Fragments mingle
with whole stories
and they dance around my brain
like they have something to say
when all they spell is confusion.

I lost again
(as if I was ever found)
and I’m not sure if the me I know
is actually me,
if the pieces I remember
are really real.

I do the same things I always did.
But I am




The shards no longer make
whole images,
full pictures
of who I am
and what I want,
what I hope for.

Is this my life?
Is this who I really am?
All broken and cluttered,
torn and misplaced?
Or is this it
and I’ve yet to realize
the greatness of now?
The possibility of present?

It’s all a sham anyway,
this figment of happiness,
this notion of right
amongst a world filled with wrong.

I need fire
and I get



air rising

in familiar patterns
when all I want is



15 Years

How do you live with someone
for 15 years
and they still don’t seem
to notice you?

they see you,
talk to you,
touch you occasionally,
but they don’t actually see you.

When they look at you,
it’s as if you were everything,
but they don’t actually know you,
the real you,
the pieces you hide
because you’re
scared or
ashamed or
the brokenness will
the love.

But isn’t this what they should notice?

Shouldn’t he touch me
and realize the distance
even though we are together?
Shouldn’t he see the ache in my eyes
and wonder what’s wrong,
what’s different?

Fifteen years
and I’m sure he has no clue
I’m dreaming of lives I could live
in other places with other people.

He doesn’t realize how tenuous
this all is,

but shouldn’t he?