Granted

I've been a follower

For longer than I've been a lover of you

And if you think it's not long enough

to shake me

then you don't know me yet

I fall. Fast

That's the easy part

But I have trouble getting back up

And dusting off the sick feeling

that I get every time I think about

leaving here.

It's what I do best.

It's the one thing that drew us

together with picket fence dreams

and it's my one flaw

that you take for granted.

I take a lot of things for granted.

Loving, for example.

This is not the easy part

It takes so much more to stay

than to go

And I've been going for years now,

wandering and waiting

and calmly expecting change to happen

It always comes

rushing in like a bullhorn on full speed.

I'm always ready for the blow

I wish that I could say that this is it for me

I wish that I could keep my composure

when future plans come into play

I wish that I didn't think that everything

comes so easily

That I deserve everything that I want

I wish I didn't want so much

And that my bones didn't ache for sea sand

I'm jealous of the fixtures we've inherited

Mostly because

I want to feel the same salinity on my cheeks

and something other than snow on my eyelids

I still love. I still wish. I still dream.

I just do it in monotone these days.

And I don't mean to make you think

That it's all because I'm unhappy

Just know

That there is something in you that

Makes me say stay

That tells me I have no choice

But to root myself in you

And if you're here, so am I

big waves

when something more than god has broken me
into something less than who i pretended to be
and i have no choice but to listen
to the brass hopes of everything i
hoped to someday own
or at least vote for
when fingers that used to clutch mine
in desperation of dreaming
now move not to hold me up
but sling me down
farther than i've ever let myself go
when laughter splits the faults
in my fine-lined face/facade
and momentarily makes it okay
to not pretend that i am always myself
when i have refused to be mine
for so long that i cannot remember
whether or not i belong to god
or to hate signs carried by
people who hate themselves
more than they could ever love me
when the mirror image reads back something
no longer redeemable as truth
and spews out words i never even got a chance
to smile toward in wanting
when i can no longer [lie] easily beside you
while your heart thump thumps to
rhythms i tell myself i must snap to
so i can carry you into something beautiful
when i can no longer be redeemed
and even god laughs at my efforts to purge myself
and tells me my bones are getting
as weak as my morale
when i have repented so many times
that my repeated attempts at finally telling the truth
and asking you to forget,
leave only the option to lay down myself
and offer whatever is left
when every thing i never believed in
and every negative thing i made you,
spoke into existence, delivered to your soul
then promptly pretended to weep,
points back at me, swears me to my knees
and kisses my tears back into my hurt
that i may never complain
that i am always alone
then, then i will let you go there without me
and i will not form no on my mouth
and i will see you throw back big waves

something to love for

End of Seasons - Normal, IL

i don't often repeat myself
and when i do, i know that there is something
that you or i must have missed the first time
i have a knack for missing things
most of all, the shore
but when i stop dreaming about that,
i realize that i've been missing
everything.
myself.
you.
this lackluster memory isn't something
you can just wipe clean
i remember everything:
the first time i felt butterflies
on the second floor of a train
to the middle of nowhere.
the second time i told myself
i wouldn't fall
because surely no one would be there
to catch me this time
and even if they did
everything i touch has a tendency
to let go.
letting go is just the easy part
my heart takes it literally
and forgets to collect the pieces,
lets them make their way into my core
and break out to crack the surface,
the circus face i've been freak showing.

here,
i will show you my hands
and the marks i vowed to never
break into my skin again
it's the one promise i've kept.
it's the one line i've never
tried to cross again

because i don't want to repeat myself
i don't want to turn back dials
that i don't have to anymore
or open up chapters
that should have been finished before
i even left you..










some things should be more easily forgotten.

i choose not to love you

i'm afraid of a lot of things:
the dark
my hands
my skin
your face
myself.
i'm afraid of the way a lie is always close
but i can never follow through,
the way my hands shake when i'm angry
and i start to feel like i'm alice
caught in a bottle
trying to shake myself free
i'm afraid of the way this tiny little town
is scooping me up and stripping me
of everything i've ever known
even the things i've always pretended
and telling me that i mean nothing.
i'm afraid of going near my suitcases
because i know i will try my hardest not to look back.
i'm afraid of my mother telling me
that i've failed at things
because i'm afraid of everything.
i'm afraid of sleeping alone now too
and of telling myself bedtime stories to fall under
i'm afraid of believing them too
i'm afraid that i've made a mess of things
and i'm afraid of my uncertainty
and inability to give more.
I'm afraid of making little things
seem like giants



i'm also afraid that everything i touch
dies.