From The Notes App - May 2023

These have been sitting in my phone, gathering dust. So please enjoy or hate or think they’re stupid. I’m half a bottle of wine in on a Monday night and OKC might get obliterated from tornadoes <3

_____________________

On Feeling

I used to feel everything. 

So much so

that I couldn’t stomach air

and now, I feel nothing 

at all.

My brokenness 

is beyond tears and uneaten food.

Beyond the ache that stretches from the cold side of the bed.

Further than the piercing silence from the drinking alone can reach. 

It is, instead,

my entirety.

My soul’s new essence. 

My body split down the middle like two curtains,

falling down and revealing a cold, immovable statue. 

_____________________

On Questions

why did you squeeze my hand like that

when we listened to that band play that love song?

you knew what we were going to be.

a whole-hearted nothing.

a memory in the sawdust on the floor.

if you were still here,

i would ask you what you were thinking. 

i’ll string it up next to the questions of

“how am i going to die?”

“what is meaning of life?”

why did you squeeze my hand like that?

_____________________

On Spinning

I will write a fictional future of us

before we even have a first date. 

I will make some edits,

change some dates

and some names

and spin a wonderful tale

of love so whole-hearted 

that even the reader could choke.  

I will write it all down

in prose 

and paragraphs. 

You will never read it

and others will never know who it is about.

But I will. 

I always will.

You and me. 

The fictional future of what we will never be. 

_____________________

On Late Returns

return my books,

and give me back my watches,

because that is the only time you can ever give me back.

never come to this side of town again.

not because i will hurt you,

my daddy won't bring out a gun.

but because i cannot become her again.

i can’t do that to myself. 

that simple girl 

with vintage watches

and sad books about grief. 

_____________________

On Suits

I am no one’s long term girlfriend,

just a two month fling that ends on some random Tuesday night.

They say, “How heartbroken can you be? You didn’t even make it till the spring.” 

To see someone’s face in summer 

and eyelashes frozen in winter

would be such a lovely gift.

Viewing their entire wardrobe

from bathing suits to Christmas sweaters.

Birthday suit to wedding attire.

It would be such a pleasure.

_____________________

On February 25th, 2023

After anything, we always find ourselves here in these communal spaces. The kitchen, the living room, the dining room in between. It’s late, we should be in bed but, instead, we’re walking—pacing these floors trying to find sense in the crumbs under the table and the plush throw pillows on the couch that are askew. We do, eventually, retreat to our bedrooms—the places that are separate—and we always end up back down here in the odd hours of the night. 

You couldn’t sleep either? 

Dad makes a pot of coffee. Mom ties her robe tighter. He hangs his head in his hands. She finds a snack in the pantry. In bed, I try to squeeze my eyes shut, but they are held open by the almost completely vacant blinking green light on the smoke detector across the room that I never noticed before. 

There is no sleep for any of us tonight. Everything will be different now. Our minds are deconstructing and reconstructing our futures and asking the question, “Why the fuck did he kill himself?”

The sun rises as it always does and we begin a day that is completely new to us with a future that is completely unknown.

_____________________

On Me

There’s a piece of me that you can’t ever touch. 

You could crawl to me

on your knees, across jagged rocks,

begging for a taste.

I’d slit your throat to silence you

like I had done a thousand times before

and would do a thousand times again. 

That secret piece is not for you. 

It’s not for anyone. 

It’s been graced before

by treacherous outsides not long forgotten. 

For me.

She is only for me. 

She still screams their names 

in the dead of night.

I still see their face

on every nice young waiter.

I grow older now

but they stay the same age

with their intentions ill intended. 

There’s a piece of me that you can’t ever touch.  

You could crawl to me

on your knees, across jagged rocks,

begging for a taste.

A bite.

A lick. 

Something to ease your pain.

I’d slit your throat to silence you

like I had done a thousand times before

and would do a thousand times again.

_____________________

On Burning

There’s a fire that burns deep within my soul

when the thought of you crosses my mind

when I swear I didn’t want it to. 

Like a shot of whiskey,

hot air blowing through,

a summer without rain,

coals in a fire.

Just burning its way on through.

My muscles can’t take the heat of you being away.

Oh how I would love for you to burn me again. 

What happened to your fire?

A love bomb, I don’t care.

It was something 

even if it wasn’t real

It was something

burning its way on through. 

_____________________

On You

I’ve got notebooks

about philosophy, 

about love,

about heartbreak,

about you. 

I’ve got notebooks

about airplanes,

about moving west,

about God,

about you. 

So much you.

I’ve written a million words

about everything

from New York City streets

to small Texas country towns

and you

and you. 

So much you. 

I could string together 

ten thousand sentences

but I could never keep

your string tied to mine.

I’ll fill more notebooks

about you

and you 

and you. 

So much you. 

_____________________

On Letters

“Oh I wrote one. Two actually. But never actually brought it to the mailbox. Let’s not try to unpack why it is I acted that way. One sat on my truck dash until the ink faded off. I still have the one you wrote me.” 

_____________________

On Forging

I realized 

that I lost my chance

to live that life.

No longer

can I be anything,

it’s now

anything but that. 

Which makes me want it

so much more.

It’s the stubbornness in me—

that idealistic 

sick fuck

that I can 

never 

beat down

or subdue. 

The side that refuses

to acknowledge 

that the passing of time

and poorly made decisions 

has caused me to be unable

to live that life. 

And now I must walk away

from the heavily traveled path

and forge one

anew. 

_____________________

On A Feeling From 2021

You said you didn’t want a relationship.

Not just with me, but with anyone. 

That you were too fucked up and hurt

and did too many bad things.

That you weren’t the right material

and you’ll scratch and burn my skin.

But I love distressed denim and frayed cotton

where you can see the history in the torn knees 

from all the times you asked God “Why?

Whatever material you are made up of,

I think it is the perfect patch for me.