there are still monsters hiding under the bed of my body
under my skin, between my legs, in my hair
there are cobwebs that i won’t let anyone sweep away
for fear of awakening the creatures down below
you tell me to reach in and pull the monsters out
to be brave and go inside, claws first, and rip them from me
but you don’t understand how sharp their teeth are
how strong they’ve gotten while existing in me
i am not brave enough to reach in on my own

an experience is a straight path
memory hacks through
weeds and trees to forge
a new way to the same
destination

would you ever want to give us a chance again
to let me redeem myself for being too independent,
for not knowing how much you would consume me
in the future, and allow me to fill your empty beer cans
with words of love and feelings of content
so that each time you drink you are full of me
and I remember my doubts as just that,
as a weed growing in the lines of the pavement,
not as a crack in the sidewalk itself
I want to prove it to you almost as much
as I want to prove it to myself

i know you don’t think of us as friends, but i do. when i see you walk in the door, i want to take your hand and guide you through my past experiences so that we might understand each other better. so that you might understand me better. maybe it is not friendship that i seek, but attention. validation. acceptance.
i would love it if you saw me.

i don’t know how to tell you
that i like it when you leave parts of yourself behind
for me to find later,
when my lips are tinted one shade darker
or i can see where your fingers grabbed at me
to try and pull me closer into you,
i don’t know how to tell you
that i like scars because they show me
snapshots of more painful times
and when i chew on my lip and wince
i will remember you and how captivated i was
when you sucked out my marrow
and left me out to dry

When the day came to a close she hung her head, not because she was tired, but because she couldn’t possibly bear the weight of the world anymore.

Life kicks your ass. The least you could do is kick it right back.

when i met you i was enraptured,
everything about you intrigued me,
but it was your hands
that made me think about you the next day

i’m sorry,
is that strange?

i could study your thumbs,
put them in a museum
and i’d pay admission price every day,
such a small part of you is so magnificent
the parts represent the whole
in this case

the way they curve abruptly
when you’re holding onto something,
the way your fingers move when you
talk with your hands
or run them through your hair
or reach for your wallet

what is it about you,
about such a seemingly small body part,
that has captured me so

i wonder what it’d be like for my hand
to slip into yours
something imperfect enclosing something perfect

what is it about others’ hands
that i envy