Love and Your Kitchen Floor

Your kitchen floor is black and white, checkered tile.
You are the black squares, I am the white squares.
My dirty spots stand out, while yours are disguised.
We touch each others corners, but never combine.


(And when we try, we turn dark grey.)

Rash

i have been scratching at my throat.
red lines crisscrossing dry skin.
this rash hasn't gone away.
maybe its anxiety?
maybe its irritation?
i tell others its from a food allergy.

i look in the mirror at my reflection.
all of the imperfections.
the rash bubbles and festers.
maybe ill wear a scarf?
maybe ill keep my hair down?
i tell others i am confident.

i bite my tongue until blood pools in my mouth.
i keep my hands busy with wrappers and nicotine. 
i concentrate on paintings, papers, and books.
i delete your number and sleep with an extra pillow.
but i know what this rash is from,
its your poison leaving my body.

facebook

i hate that facebook is the only thing telling me i am "in a relationship."
the flowers, and cards, and phone calls, and looks from our mutual friends tell me otherwise.
the van is still in my name, your shoes are still in my closet, my keys are still on your key chain.
but you say we have broken up.
well if thats this case- this "little daisy girl" wants her daisy crown back.
i am still the queen of my world, with or without you in it.

Universe

When you believe in the universe, melancholy sparkles.
It hurts at first, but then you believe in it.
You believe in everything.
You believe in yourself, in your present and future,
You believe in your past.

Those shadows on the walls,
those ghosts are real,
but they aren't living.
They have no breath left in their lungs.
They are only shadows.
Shadows that the universe casts,
upon dimly lit surfaces,
hard and forsure surfaces.
And it is a truth in front of you.

I will always remember how your face looked,
as it slept in dreams next to mine.
I will always remember how your skin felt,
inbetween my fingers and nails.
I will always remember you in Colorado,
during the thunderstorm,
on the forth of july,
and you with your guitar.

I will miss the love we make.
I'll miss how your body swayed my insides.
I will miss how you made my heart beat,
and my body forget
all the suffering its spent.

You sweet loving man.
You sweet loving man.
We are forever.
At least the important parts,
the parts the universe wants us to realize,
and never forget.

I believe we will always exist.
Because I believe we were always meant to be.
I dont understand a lot of things,
but a lot of things are bigger than merely understanding.
Its just a feeling.
Its just a really big feeling.

feels alright

for some reason- i feel alright. i feel centered.
and this time it hurt me. it hurt to center me.
but since the beginning, you always knew how to do this.
you always knew how to screw me back in;
how to push me hard enough against the kitchen wall,
to throw my feet off balance for just a second,
so i was forced to hold my ground.
and that was just the beginning. 
You stayed as long as it took to stop me from crying
til all of my ridiculous emotions flooded out
til i became what i was supposed to be
at that moment.
ever since i met you, i have found that moment.
where the rain falls in straight lines
and the wind blows in S's
and the stars form crows above our heads.
everything aligns. and in the greatest chaos,
everything feels alright.

the lights are turned down
groans of thunder stifle the sky
as she soaks the earth's skin
her wetness falls in sheets
and her rain licks the hard ground
the wind moves her water back and forth, back and forth
tree branches tickle her wet bodies
and then they shake (or hold still)
til the wind comes in overwhelming desire