all the rain that never falls

my name doesn’t feel like mine,
just a weapon. was i stupid to
think that maybe i could be loved?
because now i’m convinced that
i don’t exist after i leave a room and
writing is a futile way to materialize
a life worth living. i’ll always just
be the one looking out the car window
never wanting to get to my destination.
always the girl in the glasses. the one
who yearns. no matter who tells me to
stop, i never will. it’ll always be me,
writing in vain, daydreaming rather
than looking forward to the future,
the one who tries to fix everything
around her, and always, always fails.

how to disappear

first, you lose anything that made you worth remembering.
and it feels like relief till the emptiness sets in,
making you another blank loose-leaf sheet of a human being.

then, you untie the threads of your soul.
some are thinner than others. you leave those for last.
maybe because it takes months to cut the bonds woven like rope.
maybe because they’re the ones that haven’t seen your flaws.

and of course, you throw out bits of memories.
forgetting and forgetting and forgetting until
nothing in the past can hurt you nor give you solace.
you hack off bits of comfort until raw skin is all that’s left.

finally, you leave. perhaps physically, you jump into the ocean
and stop caring if you come back out. or maybe emotionally,
when your heart just stops working after a while. it might be numb,
but at least it’s not in pain. and then you leave mentally, tearing your sight
off of dreams.

and that’s how you disappear. i’ve done it more times than i can count.

fake it till you make it

pretend that swallowing your words isn’t better than
saying them and that learning to be quiet
is a waste of time. pretend to love every inch of your body
so your cousin doesn’t go on another diet. pretend to love it
so you don’t starve yourself for a week again. look both ways
if only to get into the habit of it. stop imagining yourself
run over by a bus, stop imagining your own obituary, stop it.
stop everything. forget. forget about wanting to die and
hoping to disappear. nobody’s letting you go off the deep end
anytime soon. nobody will leave. nobody will hurt you.
not even yourself.

[deleted]

unfortunately,
everyone else who'll ever have me
will find out that my mouth still yearns for
yours.

because others' bodies don't throb like
hearts for you,
ever and ever in waiting.
we made a promise that was meant to be broken, dear.
my wrists, my neck, still pulsing in disbelief.

snippet

she resents him. she wants to claw out his throat full of moans,
draw dripping black blood. she wants to hate him
but instead she just hates herself.

in which jo loves laurie

"i always shall love
you, jo."

the keys to this palace
of paper and quill
are bent and worn,
dear laurie.

when my sister's heart
bleeds, you run to her.
even when i am the one
she sucks blood from.

what is to become of
anything in this fantasy
world you have made up,
when i am the antithesis
of love?


we are fools, fools, my laurie.
new york is a dream, it was
a dream. nothing is to come of
this when i waste away at my desk.

gun in the glovebox

the sky streaked with grey
when god cried for me.
how merciful of him.

it's hard to mourn a
subpar life. you tell me, always,
keep your raincoat on. lest you
catch a cold in the hurricane.
i can't recall ever listening.

call me back, please.
i wonder if you'd plead so hard
at this necromancer's altar
had i not given you everything
you wished for.

the lights are off when i get home.
i should've known-
you always do run in the rain.

i know you think my glass heart
would've broken had it
tried to love you.

but gun in the glovebox,
i whispered your name.
i whispered your name.

[removed for submission]

he told me he could tell
when my nights were getting
bad again,
and i'm afraid to tell him
he's already missed the beginning
of this horror movie

december, and your covered porch is cold. in that early afternoon light the space between your strands of hair glows like no other. i carry your mug to the table.
you read poetry aloud to me. i wish i’d remembered which poet, or even the words. that poem will last longer than the memories of my head buried in your chest.