the shape of my heart

is not the right one
for valentines
we’ve learned to lie
with our paper
cut-outs
the even-ing out
of two sides
as if making love
neat and pretty
will help us to catch it
but inside my chest
is a mess of red hiding pink
uneven and bulbous
just waiting for someone
to smooth it over
see it bare
until all the ugly
is only something
we used to be afraid of

dreaming on the impending sunshine

you must imagine yourself to be soft
as the butter in its dish
from the counter tops of 1982
and open as the sky
I look up to every fourth of July
or whenever I notice I’ve lost something
but what if I’m like your mirror
and really you are just as tough
and unfraying as the hemp
tying up my wind chimes all these years
and closed up tight, sleeping
like all pretty flowers before their bloom

propheting on misery never brought me a saviour

the times between
i cool myself
and race through
voices from history
the wreckers in
all of my stories
they resound
their cacophony
until i am deaf
to me

i’ve discovered
i am a figment of
who i once
thought i’d be

and you
you are the one
who disregards
the same old person
who has left me
an untapped resource
you are the person
i’ve already known
you are the only
person i’ve ever met

because i said so

i’ve always
said it would be so

so why don’t you plant a fucking tree already?

you embody the word
potential
look up the #1 definition sometime
i saw it from the second i noticed
the crease in the center of your forehead
and even before that when your lines
were filling up my inbox

now you want me to pretend
like i never shined for you
but i know i did baby
i was radiating
and so were you, yes

rest your star-tipped finger here

because
the truth is i
am you being
me she is
me being she
we are all
ghosting through
pretend spaces
placing our
ideals carefully
out front
so we don’t notice
these soft insides
we say we’re not
on common ground

but
we are
we always are

if time didn’t matter

i could say i loved you
that one saturday morning
when we left our shirts off
and made coffee in my kitchen
we spoke about work
and possibilities
not between us
there was a dance
a back and forth
of me and you
as hands smoothed bellies
and kisses accompanied
words that came so easy and sweet

and the coffee
it took forever

country music sucks, but maybe Kenny knew a thing or two

you sit smug in your indifference
watching me lay out my whole deck
apparently you think you’re better
and i guess i do too

what was i thinking
wanting to display all my tricks
wanting to reach out my hands
when virtue lies in playing cards by yourself
maybe once in a while flipping up an ace

i say the salesman didn’t die soon enough

i wanted to write you a song
but i remembered rhyming is lame
besides i should have noticed
you never wanted to listen to my music

i am 30 years old
a woman now
i love being a woman
i am ready to show off my wares
but pretend has always been boring to me
my imaginary friends never talked back when i was little
and i always wondered what the fuck people meant when they spoke of theirs
i thought they had access to some kind of magic i didn’t

i saw your salesman smile that first night
and i am no dummy
i knew what was going on
yet i let myself slip even so
and there is no answer to whether or not
it’s me who is an idiot
or you who is a liar
or me who is a weirdo
or you who changed your mind

well, maybe there is

i can sit here forever contemplating
the one thing for sure is that i thought i was done with this
that’s why i sat alone for years
’cause i was determined never to feel this sting again

yet here i fucking am

the precedent was set by adam

you come to me
with your mouth like
a starving person
and i fill you up
i have always filled you up

you keep plucking
but my orchards are
not enchanted

so i say goodbye to you in your skin
and our warm little oblivion

regarding friday

this is a poem to the you
i imagine you are

rather
this is a poem to you as you
presented first dateish

or
here are some words after
my one-millionth resurrection of you
and your smile when you said
something about beauty in the world
with your hand on my face in the exact way
to ignite the skin on my chest

and
look at me now
still smoldering