Dance in the shadow of moonlight
While your shoes crush the glass on the floor
And make sharp glitter on the linoleum
Grab onto hope and stick it in the oven
Then spread it on a roast for Thanksgiving
Let your brain turn into a pool of ink
And pour it all out into the sink
And dip your hands in it and paint the walls
Ruin the linens and the doors and the halls
Paint your neck and your eyes
And write love letters to boys
Who will read them and keep them in boxes under the bed
So they can sleep over hopes and dreams.
Stick a knife in a pillow and watch the feathers burst out
But do all this in silence
So they won’t find out.
I love you to the moon and back, I know because I went there.
I shot myself into the stratosphere because they said on the moon there was magic dust that would make me all better.
The moon is 384,400 miles away from the earth, so it took me a long time, but you’ve never been anywhere so quiet.
There’s no day or night, but I could see the sun right in front of me spewing hot lava into space.
I went to the moon and I figured it out, all of it, got all whole and fixed and healed and unafraid.
The world is so small from all the way up there, beautiful and blue and silent.
I thought about you being so far away, and I wondered if you thought about me.
I love you to the moon and back, and I came all the way back here with moon dust on my boots and my whole heart to give.
I came all the way back, all the way whole, and you said you missed me but you didn’t think I’d be that long. I could see the marks on your hand from someone else holding it, the deep etching of happy and warm.
I told you I loved you to the moon and back, and that’s what I answered when you asked me what took so long.
We held hands in the dark, and I couldn’t even see you. Continue reading “So I Did”
Tonight we go around in circles, at three in the morning with the sounds of the city in the background and the hope of something better held between tired fists. Continue reading “Go Fish”
I took what I wanted. That’s for certain. It was like a flash of lighting you know? I didn’t know what it was until my eyes were burning and I had to think about it. Continue reading “Music”
It’s Tuesday, October twenty-fifth, and there is a hand on the box in the corner. Continue reading “Hello, Yellow”
I hold on to a moment, far longer than I should, I know. I hold on to a day, or an hour, where you made the world stop, where we were young and beautiful and in love, where we were untouched by our own shortcomings, if only for a moment. Continue reading “Hold On To A Moment”
There is a bucket of paint
In a boat in the middle of the ocean Continue reading “I Am Red”
It was gone like a puff of smoke, the kind that happens after you set off a confetti gun. Continue reading “Paper Clouds”
I’m going to find another you, one day on the subway. Continue reading “Another You”
Love in the palm of my hand I lost. Continue reading “Because You Let Me”
I have held old things, in my hands. Continue reading “Tornado”
At the end of the world there is a swing, and it teeters back and forth. Continue reading “The Swing At The End Of The World”
A pounding in my chest is the thing that I needed. Continue reading “Hide Ground”
This is a story about climbing. Up to the roof where they won’t see, feet on the edge of a cliff, the edge of a cliff on the cusp of the city. Continue reading “Seventeen”
The word feels sticky in my mouth
It means to be close to something, but also to be halved, if your part is part of something that is broken.
A part is also apart,
In deficit of Continue reading “Part Apart”
Outside the window there sits a box. It has never been opened. It has never left the spot by the front porch, even though the weather has come and gone. It is made of a strong material, something that would appear to last the test of time, or maybe it’s something magical, either way, it has not moved since it was placed there by a man in a grey uniform like so many men in grey uniforms do every day. Continue reading “The Box Outside The Window”
Heart in the dark, sitting in the corner waiting for someone to come to the window. Continue reading “Moon Crisp”
The wind came in through the window and made a whistling sound as it shot through the glass. Continue reading “The Beginning”
I’m so damn angry, at the way things have turned out, at the poison that just came out of my mouth. Continue reading “The Things Of Us”
If she knew, it was only because the noise in her head had quieted for a moment. Continue reading “Grip”
I am in a holed up space barely breathing. My limbs refuse to move and my hands they sit unused on my lap. Continue reading “Fingers Fly”
A hand is outstretched, it’s morning in the middle of nowhere. Continue reading “Others”
It is seven in the morning, and everything is falling apart. Continue reading “Mirrors”
She looks out the window to cold hard skies that scrape the ceiling of the world and fade into the early morning. Continue reading “Yellow”