Fragments

fragments

I see you in fragments first, 

like the broken shards of an 

ancient mirror; the crinkle of

your eyes when you smile at me 

In its delicate elegance of 

hesitant joy. 

Then I see you, the whole of you; 

Like the pieces have been 

Rearranged, not a mirror but 

A painting that reveals your

beauty in your actions and

your words. 

How rarely we perceive our true 

worth in others' eyes--the light we 

carry without ever trying. You 

Look at your reflection and do 

Not see the beautiful being 

Whom I love. 

You’ve cut yourself on the shards

Of those you’ve tried to heal, 

Because they did not want 

Your quiet kindness. Yet 

You still dare to love with your

Entire being. 

Perhaps that is what I see in you—

A heart that longs to heal

The broken parts of the world

Faltering, cautious, yet despite 

Its stumbling, perfect in

Every way. 

So every day I choose this

To love you, to cradle every 

Delicate piece, to love you

Not despite your “brokenness” 

But because of every part that

Makes you.

how to be a saint

they expect much from you. they will touch your skin and claim your blessing. they will chant your name until their lips form it without thinking, until their tongues have memorized the way it tastes, until they have said it so many times that they’ve claimed it as their own. your name is no longer yours. it is theirs. it is divine, now. 

you, too, are divine. they will fall to your feet and you will feel the whisper of their lips caress your skin. benevolently, gently, they will graze fingertips across your face like they are touching the face of your god. this body is not yours anymore. it is of the gods. it is a vessel. 

they will not always be so gentle. they touch you with reverence, yes, but they are hungry. they are hungry for the touch of the divine for the gods for you. they will devour you with dripping lips and red hands and smile and say more. it is never enough. it never will be. they will slowly taste your flesh and tear you to pieces. your blood is not yours anymore. it is stardust and ichor and wine and ecstasy. 

the choir sings like angels with your name at every breath and you realize their singing starts to sound like screaming. why aren’t you singing? Sing for us. your voice is the gods’ voice. no it is not your voice you do not get to speak for yourself. you never spoke for yourself. your voice is not yours. 

your body is a temple. they will offer up food and drink and more gold than you will ever need. none of it is yours. the church will take it. you do not know what for. they tell you not to worry about it. worry will mar that perfect face of yours. do not destroy that body gifted to you by the gods, they say. do not be ungrateful. they have made you a perfect vessel for us. this is not the first time they have made a temple out of a body. haven’t you figured it out yet? you own nothing. nothing is yours anymore. 

they crave you like they crave anything they cannot have. you are intoxicating, addicting, your silken skin and sweet voice. they stare up at you like you are a god, blinded by the light. they do not realize they are looking at a corpse. 

how come you are not perfect? you were molded in the shape of perfect beings. you should be perfect. they want more. they need more. you are not enough. if you are not enough they will feast on your flesh and lick their lips and beg for more. can you hear them screaming? they need more. more. MORE. 

you taste divine. 

Right Here, Right Now

TW: mentions of suicide, self harm

What if, right here, right now, 

I just jumped from off this roof? 

What if, right here, right now, 

I took this gun?—for no one’s bulletproof. 

What if, right here, right now, 

I took this rope and let me swing? 

What if, right here, right now, 

I took those pills? These tiny things? 

Coward, you screamed—coward, coward

Never did anything right

Always failed, always disappointed

So what if I gave into the night? 

What if, right here, right now, 

I took this knife, right at that vein 

Slashed ‘til I found blood and bone

And let thick crimson liquid rain? 

So slit my throat. Slit my arms. 

Slice this traitorous heart of mine. 

Carve these words into my chest. 

Smile and say that everything’s fine. 

Cut these thoughts. Cut these hands. 

Cut the voices inside my head. 

Ignorance is bliss—and so’s oblivion

‘Cause nothing can hurt me if I’m dead. 

kalopsia

the light plays across the covers. 

i chose white covers because i 

thought it would make me sleep 

better but i don’t sleep anyways 

but they are beautiful. they are 

beautiful because i am leaving. 

kalopsia caused by an 1800 mile 

move. they are beautiful because 

i am leaving because i have to 

leave because i know this logically 

but my sheets at home are green. and 

in massachusetts. and i am in bed in 

texas. which is quite a problem, i 

would think. 

I think that if you were to melt

You’d melt like sugar

Sticky-sweet

Molten—golden; 

Flaking on my lips and fingers

You’d melt like ice cream

Slow dribbling spilling seeping 

Brimming over the goblet

White wine (not red) 

seductively sweet

You’d melt like honey pouring 

Viscous and luminous 

Like your eyes in the sun 

Ah—the sun! 

The light—your light—

Your warmth like the sun

Like apricity—

Like sunbursts after the tempest

Golden sunshine spilling over

Like warm hands cradling me 

you touch me and

I’m burning

melting

for you.

you were like the sun. I was blinded by your presence, by that glowing smile. by the warmth of your hands, the gold of your heart. I watched you from afar, for I knew if I came too close my walls would all come burning down. if my heart was ablaze with you were near, then it was so cold, so lonesome, without you.

but I pushed you away.

out of fear, out of anger,

because I didn’t want to change. I feared change. I feared what would irreversibly change if I let you in my heart.

but now you’re gone, and I’m frozen. my sun hidden behind clouds of my making. and I realized that I needed you. I needed the warmth you gave. and I was willing to burn.