The Heart

to the one --

you’ve been forever a lack,

a hole, an absence

i cannot imagine you,

because i idolize you

i want, so desperately, for you to be

an absence yet constant presence

you lurk, a nagging feeling

an abcess, an itch

and yet i could not seek you out

because a part of me still thinks

we will crash on the street,

or touch hands at the bookstore,

we’ll smile shyly and pass,

gazes will linger

amid flashing lights or buzzing drone,

or elevator music, or raucous home

any way that would seem

like the stars drew our fate

but you can’t argue that from a swipe,

so it scares me, to find you that way

in the pit, the emptiness of my soul

when i should’ve been looking to the ones who fill,

to the excess, to the outpouring

to the ones i know.

you are quiet giggle

confession stuck as it leaves,

weaving through the crowded street

you are late nights texting,

and the last one to put the phone down,

and borrowed shoes for the night or the week,

and fingers gripping my back when we hug

you taught me ‘i love you’ when i leave the car,

and you taught me to face what i truly felt

you taught me it would turn out okay,

and you taught me when to fight back

love is a whole,

tangible and real

i’ll recognize you when i see you

when i know you, it will mean

i was not fixed,

didn’t find my other half

you were never the first,

you will not be the last

smoke and mirrors

i want you to make me pretty

unmake who i was beneath your hands

take all my soft parts and sharpen me

press me to you to find no curved edge

i want you to push down where it hurts

i want you to yield me a secret

you can’t break something already broken

i already know you'll never keep it

don’t ask to know me,

go on, make me anew

see me where no one has seen

i can pretend i was what you drew

look in the places that matter the least,

lick the tears from my cheeks and bite down

strip me to skin to skin, but

there will always be space, no matter how thin

i want you to taste me

take a day or two to wash the scent

miss me when i’m gone; won’t you?

convince me not to pretend

it isn’t kind, is it? to yourself, nor i

making mirrors and posing and refracting light

you can try, but we’ll never see eye to eye

even when silk drape isn’t on your mind

smoke and mirrors, painful prayer, nothing to see

you will never make a beggar of me

the beginning ig

and what if i started a secret blog. and what if i used it. and what if.

neptune

we are simply the universe interacting with itself, a tentative touch, a shared breath.

and we must be tender with each other, for we are fragile

and we are real,

and you are real.

and you know yourself best, so you should know best that you are deserving of joy and every delicate softness that you stop to rub your cheek against, to feel that conjoining of two forgiving things.

to know that you can love, wanton and gorgeous, sunlit smile touched by every person who has treated you with care,

and possibly treat someone else with care, too.

you can have everything you want, dear

you only have to know that you deserve it

you only have to forgive yourself

dread has no place in our ecosystem, in our tangled, finite hearts

we are the universe, of the same stardust sprinkled onto fertile soil

we are the universe, nursed and nurtured into our positions

we are the universe, laid gently to rest when we are done

we are the universe, and we can help make it a little more bearable before we take our final bow.

don’t go chasing the rest, darling, because you can care without reciprocation

you can simply love

and it is a vulnerability, yes, but not a weakness

it is not a weakness.

lucky charm

i would look at a text

thumbnail skitter over message, scroll,

and think that this must be how real people talk

i looked for the answers to the universe in the

scuff of nail polish on my desk, or

scried my future in the blue tint of

lucky charms milk,

but there was no supernatural to be found in the ordinary,

no simple magic to the daily

and i woke up before the sun rose, but even then i

couldn’t find anything to be happy about

or any beauty in the darkened world,

until the gray light crept over the sky, illuminating the ugliness

the bus stop smells, and

fetid streets, and

the ants on the counter, crawling over their dead friends’ bodies,

among the pesticidal waste

and i wonder if someone wished me out of existence,

or if maybe, it stuck, when you told me i couldn’t be real

eggshells

i don’t tread on eggshells,

i treat them as such

but i don’t expect the same for my own.

there’s always that shell i’m holding back

but when i give it out, with a delicate hand and feigned lightness,

somehow it seems to return safe

i’ve always been one to beg forgiveness after,

my cowardice so endless i can’t crawl out

it’s almost easier when someone doesn’t have the right to care,

so i cant tell them anything raw and exposing

what a strange stuttered half-life existence i’ve sown

little kernels of truth kept inside me

i say that with some they can see all,

but i’m lying to everyone to an extent

they all get little eggshells to keep in their pockets

maybe if combined, the shape would emerge

maybe if combined, i’d be known.

it isn’t for naught, theres a part of me that wants it this way

even if it feels like a punishment

excerpt from ch 9

Zela’s place was not here. Not in this restaurant, not with these people. The sooner she recognized that, the sooner she could get over it.

Wiping angry tears from her blotchy face, she rushed out into the cool night air, retreating to the safety of her car.

She slammed the steering wheel. Once. Twice. And then she crumpled.

Was it so bad to have company pride? To love what she did? Should she not adore her workplace and the people who worked there?

She fished out the rook, placing it gently on the dashboard. She still remembered it as if it were yesterday – Christmas, age twelve. The snow was falling hard outside, and Zela had woken up to a wonderland blizzard. The family had stayed inside, yelling in joy, chasing each other, wrapping paper strewn across the carpet. Her father had swung Malin around, who, of course, was jubilant. Zela watched, wanting to join, but Darren couldn’t hold two daughters at once. So her mother had pulled her from behind, shouting and grinning. She had brought down the chessboard from the shelf, and said with candy eyes and a nutmeg tongue, I think it’s time you learned the game.

Zela refused to stop until she won, but hours passed, and she couldn’t. After her fourth checkmate by the rook and a break for dinner, Zela snuck the piece off the board. Her mother pretended not to notice. Kita won anyway – but she never asked for the piece back.

Zela didn’t win that day. Nor could she the next, or the next week, or the next month.

Within the year, they were at a stalemate. After a year, Zela was consistently winning.

After two years, Zela started high school. According to her mother, there wasn’t time for chess anymore. There wasn’t time for family.

Her chest ached.

She still remembered the scent, the laughter. The warmth of four bodies in the same room. She still remembered the music. 

Zela exhaled, half expecting to see her breath puff before her. But it was summer, and the snow hadn’t come in years. 

sleepless

it whispers to me, 

it wants to know

it will not quiet

it can’t let go

beside my pillow,

loud beat of heart

it cannot stop,

it cannot start

curiousity disquiets the head

circulate, metabolism

energified, stomach dread

tap of toe, pick of finger

sensual slide of bared leg

i cannot settle, unscratched itch,

i will not ever be at rest

unsent

i don’t like saying ‘i love you’ because my heart catches in my throat every time,

the truth can be written with greater ease:

i love you so much it hurts.

and i know you so well, all of you

yet your favorite color still surprises me

i cannot think of who you’d get along with, or what you’d like

because you’re mine, even if i know, i know it’s just a little part.

i think the beauty and fear of knowing someone comes from the vastness.

because you are an endless impossibility,

a miracle.

shall i compare thee to a summer’s day?

or a winter’s night?

or the first taste of spun sugar, melting on the tongue?

shall i compare thee to a sunrise, all dusky blues and cadmium hopes?

shall i compare thee to the calm before the storm,

the silence that descends at the first pluck of a string;

reverent?

you are more than all of it, of course, and maybe one day,

when it feels a little less raw,

when a brush against my skin doesn't send ice skittering through my lungs,

maybe in a week or two,

i can show this to you,

all rapt nervousness and unmet gaze

even in the surety of reciprocity.

and maybe i would say, ‘i’m sorry’,

and you would understand that if i felt it any less

then i swear i would tell you so.

on fall

fall is a season for the lovers

transitory and fleeting,

never quite settling in one place or time

fall is never landing,

a leaf carried by the wind

pushed by forces outside you

to places you didn’t want to be, perhaps

but you find yourself there regardless.

fall is the gentle whisper of the breeze, transformed

to the violence of a hurricane

wind chapped skin, fingernails brittle, you fall.

clawing for something you’ll never have

praying for something you’ll never be

desperate to affix yourself to the branch

but you’re adrift now, and

there’s no going back.

fall is still falling,

after the storm ends

after everyone moves on and forgets,

fall is left behind.

memory trapped in a brittle, orange leaf

sliding to rest on the slope of a dying hill

“home at last,” it whispers, as it flakes away

“home at last”