Mary-y-Gen

I. Feeble He said, "I know you want to, but I don't because it's almost impossible for me to find someone who likes the things you do, and is gorgeous too." I walked him to the door, silently, wanting to do the ridiculous thing and comfort him, because I knew what he meant. Instead I only said goodbye, locked the door behind him, and leaned feebly against it. There was more, I'm sure, but I don't know where it went. II. Heavy why so heavy? moving as if it's a fight as if it's just enough to avert my eyes; you closed yours, leaned back, sighed. (i thought maybe you were trying not to cry.) why am i alright? (that's what i tho

I: Trust You pressed the heels of your hands into the hollow of your eyes, more like hammocks than bags yet still packed with everything on your mind (so I guess the imagery is right in the end). Sometimes I doubt if you think of me of as good friend, because when I ask if you're alright you tell me that you're fine, and I know it's not true. But then your dams break and you spill your guts and I offer you tea and cake, sad with your sadness but pleased with your trust. II: Cut hands shaking- why? body vibrating, tremors running through my muscles constantly and for what reason? not cold- it is summer and i can feel the hot to

The shine of streetlights on the highway turns the twisting road into a patch of sky, with rows of small suns stretching into the night. We are driving in a river of precious stones, diamonds and rubies that coil and flow in neat sparkling lines just under the surface of a blanket of darkness, and I swim beneath the spell of midnight.

I, like a small bird, a freckle on the face of the atmosphere. You, like a sleek feral cat, a curve of heat focused on [your own] survival. We, like polar opposites and doppelgängers, were never meant to meet. So twist those telephone lines around us dear, we will never be closer than where we are now.

I can barely breathe in the vacuum that you bring, I can't think thoughts through and I certainly can't say what I'm thinking [of you]. So I'm left gasping for air like I'm drowning in this          memory                        that I can't let go of, the one where ants are biting my legs so you tell me to curl up higher onto the blanket and I'm shivering because the dew is wet and I'm cold so you spread your cloak over me and just hold me, hold me so close under the night sky and you fall asleep right there with your arms around me, breathing into my hair with my face pressed against your chest. But  

your voice sent shivers along my skin, a wolfish whisper outside my door that i so wanted to let in. you huffed and puffed, you laughed and sighed- my brick wall had crumbled, but i didn't care at the time. the threat of your bite though, still weighed on my mind- neat little rows of sharp, tiny knives ready to scar. you said, "watch out for my back, that's where the sharpest teeth are." i felt no danger when i touched your face, i feared no harm from within your embrace, but your warning rang true when you walked away. you were uncommonly silent after our final retirement on the dewy hillside, having just watched the sky w

My hands are tied by thick black ropes with yellow lines, or else I'd wrap my arms around you. As things stand and this distance grows, these reaching hands are too far for safe and sound. Do you think it'd be alright if I called you late tonight? I know it's not the same, but at least you'd hear me say your name.