In the lenses of my eyes

i catch you

trap part of you,

your soul

your eyes

iris tainted with

the earth

holding specks of

lost seeds

and tangle it

with mine

till there's no end or

beginning

only us

place in it my ribs

squeeze it in the

space between my

heart and lungs

space reserved only for you

and wait

time passes

as i watch you

there’s rain and

sunlight

that comes and goes

as deep in my chest

something vibrates

something throbs

and tingles

(i see)

a flower is growing

from your soul

into mine

overflowing my lungs

with oxygen and keeping

my heart beating and

cleansing me of toxins

filling me with

something beautiful

and will do so

til the rain stops

til sunlight grows short

and can’t reach here

and the flower withers away

(till i stop loving you.)

he said, you light them up.

you dream about touching

him. crumpling his sleeves like

sandpaper. sand

falls across the bed like

his body. which is folding, folding;

you love it unbelievably.

coming home and finding

the door unlocked. you press

into the latch, heart like

shoreline. pounding, pounding;

the rain that is his mouth, his hands

under this night-black

sweater that is too small.

he pulls it up over your head and

breathes more. a little more

than you know he meant to.

what else you know — you never

left home after all.

white noise, sunlight

at the edge of the windowframe,

shrinking back when he

rounds the corner from

halls that also recoil, refrain.

and do not stop him

as he comes to pull your

heaving heart out from in between

your thighs. shaking, shaking;

like being birthed again.

you hold back the evening tide

which is gripping the coast,

struggling against a desire

to rush back out to sea, where all

there is of heartbreak

is waiting, collecting like

silt. of all the windows you might

have touched your tongue to,

this is what opened.

he parts you, parses you, never

locks the door as he leaves.

you came back with roses

and he was holding a pillowcase,

fluttering against the

fan’s oscillating face.

he turns, a little like domesticity,

starts talking about the sun,

how it rose

when you walked in. he takes

the roses. breathes.

i do not use hard

words

bullets

knives

or explosions

i only use love

and I use it

calmly

proudly

with much care

with much pain

with much fear

calmly

proudly

i use love

easy

“For a star to be born,

there is one thing that must happen:

a nebula must collapse.

So collapse.

Crumble.

This is not your destruction.

This is your birth.” - n.t.

i know the stars are far apart.

standing here and looking toward the night gives the sense they could be touching, but even as we connect them and give them stories they drift further apart. relentless momentum. the stars watch each other and we watch dead light.

i know the universe is expanding.

if the distance was growing then, now it is waiting. in the day i know the sun is waiting for stars to rise. the night looks infinite now — will it be more so tomorrow? science speaks of chaos and order approaching infinity simultaneously but from opposing perspectives. i have lain at the heart of a frozen lake and watched the dark expand, seen constellations refute themselves as the galaxies revolve. so many small stories — in a thousand years, what new faces will watch from these vaulted ceilings?

i am afraid of time. i know they say it stops for no one. (who says that?)

i see time coming even as it passes me by. time is immaterial but it cannot be refuted like the stars. all things tend toward entropy. what do words mean when reality presses so closely, feels so cruel when you stand at headstones and imagine the faces of people who loved you? someday there will be no one. someday you will feel as cold as the stars, watching time expand around you as your memories walk quietly away, and slowly, you forget the ones who made you laugh.

there are not walls. i know nothing is for certain and though i know nothing for sure, i keep faith close to my heart, where it shines for me like starlight and the night is blue velvet.

to accept the moon

you can’t only have its crescent

you don’t pick and choose

what you have and what you lose

though it has its cracks and its craters

and the dark, unknown side

you love the moon for what it is

not for what it lacks

you, similar to the moon, have flaws

but, love yourself for them

not in spite of them

and while you embody this satellite

do not be fearful of your darker facet

to be vulnerable and allow a visitor in

and just because it’s dark

doesn’t mean you haven’t seen the light

and the cavities and craters

do not mean you’re crazy

having a hole does not mean you are broken

the rugged, rocky moon is similar

to the scars your heart has

but similar to the moon, you are beautiful

your acceptance is your completeness

you come full circle, as the moon does

The sky was flooding.

I opened the window because the wind looked too pretty to leave it outside.

Or was it my eyes?

My eyes were flooding.

And my breath looked so pretty.

And my lungs said to let my breath in.

But my mouth declined.

Sometimes

I hide behind

Transparent things

Because I want to be seen

But I’m afraid

To expose that

Desire.