Dear Beloved

An open letter to
everyone I’ve ever convinced myself I loved.

I.

I am still sorry.

I fear that you were just the

first in a long line

of men I will be

all too willing to bury

my loneliness in.

II.

 Now that I’ve figured

that you wronged me, I am not

ready to forgive.

III.

I loved you more than

you knew, but you were still right:

it was not enough.

IV.

I have learned what the

infinite tastes like but

I still haven’t learned

that people can’t be

 fixed because they
aren’t broken,

or that I deserve

better.

psychosomatic

-->
i’ve grown accustomed

to the pain. in your absence

everything else aches.

Gossip

for D.

With the righteousness of youth
I convinced myself
That sharing whispers
-of your weight
-of your diets
was made nobler by the secrets
(my secrets)
you’d spilled like ink.
Indelible,
Unforgettable,
Unforgivable.
But ink fades.

Salt

I dreamt of salt
and woke with my mouth watering.
I dreamt of salt
and awoke in a blanket of sweat
and the scent of the sea
clogging my nostrils.
I dreamt of salt
and woke up bitter.

Going With The Tides

Going With The Tides
A Haiku Pair
  
 Loneliness sometimes

lingers like cold in your bones
and damp in your soul,
even when the tides
that washed it up have long since
moved to other shores.

The Inaccuracies of Poetry

The Inaccuracies of Poetry
(a Haiku)
It wasn’t the whole
truth, but half-lies can be more
honest anyway.

Letting The Sunshine In


Their makeshift curtains are visible from the path
And my windows are stark in comparison
Too high to show into my soul
Where my bare windows make more sense:
That heat pooling in at 4 in the afternoon
Falls directly on my sorrows
And is the only thing that reminds me of home.

On the Distribution of One’s Heart

On the Distribution of One’s Heart
(A Haiku Quintet)
I had given my
heart to someone who
didn’t
know how to hold it.
Instead, they cradled
it like an adolescent
with a stranger’s
child:
awkward and uneasy,
with a fear of falling
head first and snapping.
I gave my heart to
someone who didn’t
quite want
it and was surprised
when they gave it back.
They said to keep it
safe, but
their fingers left
bruises.

Chennette

I was born like a chennette:
My green mother-
sliced open down the middle,
And me- squeezed out.
 Pink, sticky, sour.

Drowning

Drowning
(A Haiku Pair)

I am drowning. You
have oversaturated
me, but I need it.
You overwhelm me.
I gasp for air but choking
never felt so good.