oh, think of me often, loosen my coffin

before the end of the month of march

when we all fell into a deep but frenzied sleep-

there were dreams of tomorrow.

(now, just some dreams)

there is a feeling that is like a hunger,

it is like running towards and running away, all at once.

(how do the pages make something so difficult in my mind, look so easy)

I used to sketch the outlines of trees

and sip warm lattes out of ceramic mugs 

at our favorite table.

now caution tape surrounds those things

like the unspoken words wrapped around the circumference of my thoughts.

(there shouldn't be a boundary)

but this,

like many other things-

which should be allowed to roam free-

are now teathered.

(full of love and loathing)

grapefruit spoons

there is a spot at the base of my ribs

where bones connect.

there is a section in the top drawer,

spoons with edges sharp like teeth.

I know these spoons from a long and bitter winter. bright grapefruit cut in half, sparkling with sprinkled sugar like the snow that never fell. 

I feel hollowed out, my insides 

scraped raw with teeth shaped edges, jagged.

no knives for me-

the blades too sharp, too clean.

it's a 

grapefruit spoon.

scraping, digging

at the spot under the base of my ribs.

(sour is my mind)

if I killed someone for you

If i killed someone for you-

I’d ride out of town on a blaze of glory, one hand on the steering wheel, never to be seen again.  I’d change my name and live out of my car. If they were every to find me, they would find a desert drifter, among the rocks for weeks on end and rarely showering, a sunburn always glossing my nose. 

I’d forget the textures of my old life; hand cream, trendy sweaters, houseplants and the way my dresser drawers always become frustratingly stuck.  Each night, I would carve out a space to lay down among piles of books in my trunk, the only sound of distant birdsongs, the quiet of wilderness.  I’d listen to cassette tapes and use pay-phones like it was yesterday, keep a journal of the times i forgot to pray, think myself tainted.

If i killed someone for you-

I’d hold emotions lighter and toss walls higher.  I’d write him letters that would never be sent, thankful to have a reason to disappear. I'd feel comfortable with the chance at living apart, given the courage to cut off what I was never strong enough to on my own, a chance at something better for each of the faces imprinted across the eyes of my mind.

If i killed someone for you-

At least I'd know you were safe.  

At least there would finally be an explanation 
to why these ribs barely breathe, this body doesn't laugh or to cry. 

I guess what I'm saying is,

I would gladly kill someone for you

if only to finally have the reasons

to live life on the run.

at the crowded table of my thoughts.

make a note. make a folder. a note pad. a notebook. full of words. words. the taste of them. the variety. sparkling like flavors to a tongue. feelings. the black sheep. the kindred spirits. spill them. take them in a white knuckled grip and toss all the manyfistfuls of them (words and feelings alike) onto pages and keys, buttons and screens. it will serve you better (that and listening) than opening up to any one person for the rest of your days. 

i wish i could be a bird and soar and fly like the song makes me feel. i wish every inch of my bones and rib cage and finger joints didn’t ache with grief (over what, i do not know). somewhere in the folds and notes of a melody is the bitter taste reminiscent of a winter and spring. too many orange bags and a stale mouth and the bitter cold that drained out some of my being whenever my feet made contact with the old cold ground. goofy green winter coat. frosty breath. it’s never enough. is it ever enough? i am rough. short of words. short of breath. but the gold cat slipped behind the bush instead of finding it's way under my tires, and the sun decided to show it's face for the first time in six days. I-don't think I'll ever forget that, you see. but I do know, that it is time to move forward.

seeing color

and we ran
(both of us)
away from something so dark, we seemed to stumble upon the best and hardest blessing I never asked for.
I am learning something that I have always known in my mind (but living it can be more difficult).
sometimes the blessings I am most thankful for do not look much like blessings at all- and they sure don't feel like a blessing either.
but waking up this morning
and yesterday
and the day before
I felt that familiar patter in my chest.
and strain.
and weight.
of good things that feel unknown right now,
and of freedom.

catch me at 8:54AM googling "how to let go of the feeling of pain when it has because part of one's soul" while in the middle of my morning shift.
how does one tell themselves that 'it will all be okay' when they know that, it's just NOT going to be.  because this is life, and there's always something woven into my heart and there's always a trace of dirt under my fingernails and there will always be calluses