Young Writers Society

i am oil, you are fire

you are the thing that caught fire.
i looked down and my hands were covered in blisters.
the smell of soot was filling my lungs-- and damn,
is it hot in here?
i thought it might just be me, but your sweat no longer tastes like salt,
and i don't know, that seems like a bad sign to me.

sweetheart i can't breathe, where's my inhaler?

the crumbling dust between your fingertips leaving a stain on my hands
that won't wash off.
you are the thing that burns everything it touches.
the smell of your perfume filling my lungs until there's no room for oxygen.
your sweat no longer strawberries on my lips,
i drink from you and i come back dehydrated every time.

i wait and i wait but your sun never comes

here, underneath this moon, is where i found you sitting,
with your legs crossed, looking up at the sky.
here, underneath this sky, is where you turned and looked to me,
told me all about the aliens in your dreams.
here, underneath this spotlight of the whole world watching,
is where i took your face in both hands and god, when we kissed,
it was like fireworks and shooting stars and flying comets all at once.

did you feel it, sweetheart?
the world got dimmer the second we stopped touching.
the second our skin wasn't attached to skin, you were a thousand miles away
and i was lost in the neverending chase of finding you.
here, underneath the blanket of darkness,
blotted out by stars, is where i bit your lip too hard and forgot to say sorry.

here, underneath all your expectations and so many of my failures,
you crumbled into dust
blew between my fingers faster than i could put you back together.

you were never meant to be mine, i guess.
but here, underneath a sky that looks nothing like the one you showed me, i sit cross legged, waiting for you to come back.
would you sit down next to me and take my hand, if you did?
would your skin be tan and warm from the long ago set sun,
would i taste it like before?
would you let all of yourself crumble inside of me if i begged?
would you look back?

a not so abusive love

did i tell you about the dream i had?
about where you took off all my clothes
doused them in gasoline
used the fire to light my cigarettes,
smoked them for me--
told me, if this is where it ends
then this is where it ends
then this is where it ends
where it ends
ends.

did i tell about what happened when i woke up?
i still smelled the smoke and my head was foggy
and you were nowhere and everywhere and
i forgot you were gone and remembered you were here
and you were nowhere and everywhere
you are nowhere
you are everywhere.

did i tell you what happened when i climbed back into our bed?
the sheets didn't smell like you anymore.
you're gone and all i have is a dog, a memory
and four dreams that are all the same.
and in the dreams you take my heart and you tear it apart
and just before you wake me up you tape it back together
tell me-- it's all okay because i love you
i do this because i love you.

recovery; noun

when I'm stuck in my maze of thoughts
you say, here's to never pulling the trigger, darling.
here's to making it out alive.
you tell me that recovery is taking your pills and watching the days count backwards,
watching the days where the sun burns your skin become fewer and fewer.

but lately my medicine cabinet is full of bullets
and my mind full of clouds i can't catch,
and i say recovery is waiting for your body to starve for so long
that it stops fighting you back.
i say it's waiting for the fire in your brain to singe off your eyelashes,
waiting for the sun to burn away everything that's left.

i don't want to make it out alive.

when i watch you walk away

honesty and truth.
a bright faced boy with blue eyes who knows how to lie.
honesty and truth--
and my fingers caught between the frame and the door, pinched until i can't feel
anymore.
honesty and truth, my mouth a jagged, painted line,
rubbed raw from your kisses that cut like--

there's the gutter.
there's the stars.
look up, tell me the truth,
you never liked the way i kissed anyway, did you?

the very end of the story

tell me, teeth against skin, cigarettes against skin about
the whispers of oceans breaking against your rib cage--
the shouts of waves braking against your rib cage.
kiss me, clumsy--almost not a kiss at all
teeth against skin, cigarettes under skin,
everything between me and you shattered and shoved under the bed.

from when i was sixteen

you and i are the spring showers.
you are the pitter patter in the morning,
against mama's kitchen window.
i am the torrential downpour
that chips the whitewash off the front porch steps.

the resilience of a soul

you are a mountain of a man.
you carry woods in your soul
when people are brave enough to walk through them
you send your wolves after them

i'd turn back if i were you.

you are a mountain of a man.
you carry maps without a compass and walk with broken feet
you open your mouth and all they hear is a wail, all they here is sadness
all they feel is pity.
you just want better directions.
people hear what they wanna hear, these days.



you are a mountain of a man.

thoughts i have when driving home

i will take you home with me.
i will take you to my mountains,
show you where you can really breathe.
i will show you my mountains--
show you where the mist practically kisses you
show you how every time you sing at the top of your lungs
the coal rivers sing back.

i will show you where my soul is hidden-- between two trees
i will say that i love you, at the top of that mountain.
because it is from there i get all my liquid courage. from the moonshine
from the coal dust, from the porch swing, from you.
you, especially.

you are like my mountains in the way that you are brave,
in the way that you are an immovable,
unshakable force that is always there.
i will take you to my mountain.
we'll sit among the wild flowers,
and i will tell you about the first time i kissed my mountain.
i will whisper to you that i never got used to it.

tornadoes

i am not your poetry.
you will never save me from my burning buildings
or make the rain stay in my clouds.
you will spend your whole life trying so hard, my dear--
but i will come to your door every night anyway
and the night terrors will too.
when you wake up screaming i will tell you about your handprint on my ribcage,
about how i just can't seem to scrub it off.

i'm sorry, sweetheart. i didn't mean to make you angry again. i'll just lay beside you
wait till you whisper that sometimes you wish you could wake up dead.
you say you have to stand guard by my heart all night while the wolves howl
you say that's why you never sleep with me anymore.
i will whisper back that
i am a black hole meant to be a girl--
you won't hear me.
it hurts and i want to go home. baby, take me home.

you will try one last time to kiss me with wild, reckless abandon
will whisper is this what you wanted me to do?
is this where you want to fall apart?
i am not your cup of tea. i burn the things that try to touch me.
why don’t you let me shatter?
i leave the pieces of us broken on the floor for the dog to eat,
because i'm tired-- and it's two am and god, what's the point of picking it all up
if we're just going to fall apart again?