sometimes ghosts plant daisies.

i deleted and blocked you off
facebook while i was a little tipsy
but we've still got our mutual friends
and i still follow you on my side blog on
tumblr. i search up your tweets on twitter
and you're in my yahoo contact list. i deleted
your number off my cell phone and blocked you
as a buddy on aim and i haven't seen you in more than
a year but you said happy birthday to a friend of mine today
on facebook and you put a little heart and called her babe and
i realize, with a stomach clenching, mouth drying sort of epiphany:
you still matter.

you wrote me love letters on the back of receipts
from the grocery store, words that jumped out at
me like tigers from India and lions from Africa,
places i’ve never been.

you graduated to post it notes on my mirror
in the mornings,little lines of whispered poetry
that spilled from your veins like wine. you were
always so romantic in everything you ever did,
like the spirit of humanity would kill you if you
didn’t share it properly.


you fought as hard as you love and i swear, the
windows shook whenever we screamed. it would
be about nothing, but glass would be broken on
the floor and sweat would glisten on your forehead.

then, i’d crumple into your arms and we’d drop to
the floor. you’d coo your apologies and trace flowers
on my skin. i always waited for those flowers to bloom
to life, to become as beautiful as i wanted them to be,
but they never did.

there are times where i’d stand on our balcony and watch
you mow the grass or take out the garbage, your arms taut
with a little smile on your face and just think: i do not deserve you.
but even realizing that, i never once considered letting you go
on to better things: i was too selfish.

i think one day you’ll leave, stepping softly on the creaky
staircase with a half-full gym bag filled with just the necessities:
a few shirts, two pairs of jeans, some cash—and all i’ll have left
of you is little lines of poetry written on the back of grocery receipts.

--

Spoiler

collab with a writer i know.

i steal pocket change from your
leather jacket, so my fingers can have
something to do, something to take.
i used to steal souls from your lungs,
pluck ghosts right out of your
rib cage but you called me klepto
and i stick to quarters and dimes now.

my cat pissed on my bed this morning
and it smells like you.

i write about ghosts too much
but i can't help it, i see them
everywhere: in my mother's eyes,
in my sister's stance and on the
train, lips dry, a bouquet of bruises blooming
under the darkness of her sweater.

she stole cereal from the grocery store
and kept it in her pockets in hope that
once she swallowed coco puffs, she'll stop being crazy,
once she digested lucky charms, she won't need rabbit feet
or four leaf clovers,
and once she crunched her stolen trix,
she'd have her childhood back.


-

Spoiler

this sounded a lot better in my head.

once i swallowed a salmon, let it flop around in
my stomach and vomit stories of sailors
who fell in love with nymphs and monsters
that whispered into bunks, into beds and tickled
secrets out of the first mate on every ship, made
them tie a rope in thick sailor knots around their necks
and dive into the ocean.

once i swallowed a rattlesnake and let it slither in
my intestines and it would have poisoned my veins
but i pulled out its fangs and ripped off it's rattle
before i dropped it down my throat
and now, i keep it in a chain around my neck.
sometimes the snake will nudge up against my heart
and wrap itself around my lungs, licking my
collarbone clean with a forked tongue, but
my bones are brittle with young age and sometimes
the porcelain will crack.

once i swallowed a hummingbird, caged it
in my ribs and only fed it half-digested
burgers and let it drink the bittersweet taste
of regret that inhabited my saliva and my blood.
the bird sang at nights and tried to fly
away in the mornings, and it ended up cutting my insides up
with its razor wings but that's what i wanted all along.


once i swallowed my mama's pills,
five of these, two of those, one of that,
straight down my throat and i don't think
they've digested and killed me yet
only because they're keeping my pets
company.

she argues about missing brooms and coffee filters
and he sings her love songs in arabic.

i've been killing people
ever since i was born.

they say it was child birth that killed her,
but i know my mother died because she
was scared to bring me into the world,
something that vomited blood and
made her crave goose feathers.

when i was three, my father died and
i killed him because i didn't do anything.
he choked on a lamb bone and i tried to
feed him my mushed potatoes and carrots
to see if it would go down.

when i was 11, my aunt died and i think it
was my fault only because i am cancer
and i must've given it to her that way.

my grandmother was 79 when i killed her
and it says 'heart failure' on her death
certificate but i know that she died because
depression is contagious and who wants to live
when everyone else is dead?

i was 15 when i killed my boyfriend. i think
he was 19 and he had a nice smile and told
me my legs reminded him of the colts he had
birthed on his granddaddy's farm in tennessee.
he tried to love me and i told him that i hated
him and never wanted to see him again.

when i was 19, i think i killed my goldfish
because i stopped feeding him and let the
water in his tank turn a musky, moldy green
liked the jello i fed my grandmother when she
was 79.

when i was 22, i killed myself because i dropped
out of school and shed out of my name like a snake
and painted my hair rust and dyed my eyes windex blue
and drove my car out to atlanta and i think
someone else lives there now.

i've been killing people
ever since i was born.

they say it was child birth that killed her,
but i know my mother died because she
was scared to bring me into the world,
something that vomited blood and
made her crave goose feathers.

when i was three, my father died and
i killed him because i didn't do anything.
he choked on a lamb bone and i tried to
feed him my mushed potatoes and carrots
to see if it would go down.

when i was 11, my aunt died and i think it
was my fault only because i am cancer
and i must've given it to her that way.

my grandmother was 79 when i killed her
and it says 'heart failure' on her death
certificate but i know that she died because
depression is contagious and who wants to live
when everyone else is dead?

i was 15 when i killed my boyfriend. i think
he was 19 and he had a nice smile and told
me my legs reminded him of the colts he had
birthed on his granddaddy's farm in tennessee.
he tried to love me and i told him that i hated
him and never wanted to see him again.

when i was 19, i think i killed my goldfish
because i stopped feeding him and let the
water in his tank turn a musky, moldy green
liked the jello i fed my grandmother when she
was 79.

when i was 22, i killed myself because i dropped
out of school and shed out of my name like a snake
and painted my hair rust and dyed my eyes windex blue
and drove my car out to atlanta and i think
someone else lives there now.

i've been killing people
ever since i was born.

they say it was child birth that killed her,
but i know my mother died because she
was scared to bring me into the world,
something that vomited blood and
made her crave goose feathers.

when i was three, my father died and
i killed him because i didn't do anything.
he choked on a lamb bone and i tried to
feed him my mushed potatoes and carrots
to see if it would go down.

when i was 11, my aunt died and i think it
was my fault only because i am cancer
and i must've given it to her that way.

my grandmother was 79 when i killed her
and it says 'heart failure' on her death
certificate but i know that she died because
depression is contagious and who wants to live
when everyone else is dead?

i was 15 when i killed my boyfriend. i think
he was 19 and he had a nice smile and told
me my legs reminded him of the colts he had
birthed on his granddaddy's farm in tennessee.
he tried to love me and i told him that i hated
him and never wanted to see him again.

when i was 19, i think i killed my goldfish
because i stopped feeding him and let the
water in his tank turn a musky, moldy green
liked the jello i fed my grandmother when she
was 79.

when i was 22, i killed myself because i dropped
out of school and shed out of my name like a snake
and painted my hair rust and dyed my eyes windex blue
and drove my car out to atlanta and i think
someone else lives there now.