Poetry and Prose

Letting go was never something I did well I was always better at holding on My hands have from rope burn from holding on too tight I was always better at holding on to things that were already halfway out the door  My fingers have calluses from things I should have just let go I recently learned that calluses are just tough skin  Skin that had too many things trying to penetrate it  Just like you with my walls that I put up so high You weaseled your way under my walls Into the space between rib 13 and 14 Directly to my heart  I knew that when you would leave It would feel like an endoscopy A part of my heart removed  I was always better at holding on,  It was better to keep things at an arm's length I could pour alcohol on your still bloodied hands  At least I could keep my eye on them there I can pretend the alcohol removes the stain The very stain you left all over me Like fingerprints stuck in the middle of a two-pane window I could always see where...

Y ou said you’d stay, so I built a home I stopped holding my breath, waiting for the door to slam  I unpacked all the boxes of trauma I would rather hide in the attic I laid down the oven mittens, which protected me from being burned  I painted the walls a seagreen, a color that reminds me of you  I washed up the dirty laundry that I had hidden under the bed  I sprayed a raindrop scent all over the pillows  And put homemade cookies in the oven   I hope it smells like a love that’s familiar  You said you’d stay, so I memorized your footsteps  How they got heavier when you were deep in thought  The creak in the hallway that connected to the kitchen  You never could sneak a second helping (but I let you anyway)  I started buying used books because you said it was loved (I started looking at myself this way)  I started making the bed in the morning, so life felt more together when you couldn’t be there You said you’d stay, so ...

There is a silence between lightning and thunder A beat of stillness where we meet Like a storm of love greets an old house Loud and with creaking bones The windows of who I am rattle My floorboards are filled with things I’d rather forget Echoing with footsteps of people I no longer talk to You call it noise, I call it the sound of commitment My walls were not built for gentleness A child once drew their dreams there They have nails from people trying to stay, like claw marks And you lean against them like you've lived here all your life You trace my chipped paint, the veins of hope that run deep within When you, my storm rage, I break down the doors just to let you in Cause if you remind me of anything It is that I, too, can endure this

Texts I almost sent I hope I never have to live a day without you What are we? I miss you Sorry, it’s been a while, I didn’t know who else to text. I think I need help Do you still like that coffee shop on Main? Can we talk? You made me feel like I was enough, and that was really scary Is it too late? Can I still have you? I can’t listen to (Redacted) without thinking of you My love songs I can’t prescribe are about you Those poems I don’t know who are about: are about you Do you ever think about that night? I play it like a favorite song I can’t stand now Wanna go for a drive? Can we talk? You looked tired today… Are you okay? Is it my fault? I hate that you see me I hate that you know I love the quiet, but hate it alone I don’t wanna frick this up I’m not leaving I don’t want to just kiss you… I want to keep you Are you free? I hope you get home safe (it’s a 20-minute drive) I wish we could start over. I promise I’d do it right this time I like the rain because we found ourselves in ...

I don’t know the difference between love and love His love is perfect and makes people feel full My love crumbles at the seams and leaves me empty I don’t know the difference between love and love His love stays, gets comfortable, and makes itself at home My love leaves at its earliest convenience, flees when things look permanent I don’t know the difference between love and love His love looks at me like I’m worthy of it My love is in Hershey’s Kisses’ wrappers shoved between couch seats (deformed and shameful) I don’t know the difference between love and love His love carries all the loads I’ve picked up since I was old enough to help with laundry My love is the pillars that Samson breaks and crushes the crowd with what I think is passion I don’t know the difference between love and love His love is full of late-night drives and “talking it out.” My love is filled with passive-aggressive dishwashing and misread pasta dishes I don’t know the difference between love and love His love i...