coveted in the left moon

my body cries laying down

holding each morsel of 

anecdotal skin; she was right

about me. so i will continue 

to write about the 

death of her.

where his warm arms

uncover my sunlit home

in a cardboard liquid glare.

i am sorry i diluted you with my

fear and walls and fear and walls;

i meant to always love you 

despite 

how hard i pressed pause

in descendants and

sighed out empty fog

in solitude. 

when i die

lower cases will

win.

begun

roaming through romance

the ways i season our

memories. with water down

my breaking bonds and jade

circle eyes- we are freedom

within our own sips of 

shadows. 

in between the beads

of forgetting the pattern;

i will crowd my thoughts just

to see that me,

drown to death.

withered catastrophe

started with wind blowing 

sideways down our perfect 

backs. where, beneath perfect 

lived slanted warmth.

a love untethered.

suicide hair watching over me;

splits and trickery never fail

to hold me closer to

truest love-

the unconditional survey

pulse. beat one beat two

beat three ever more.

depleted corners of our 

rooms become finite solids.

and I, once again,  am an

again in unloved buried 

marrow. the in between of when

my skins left yours, 

for thine own.

closed my thoughtless for you

in a new way I turned to stone

and my fears melted into pain

puddles, that completed 

our exit. i am dried moss

who smells like lavender 

and cries with longer earrings,

now.

your web of art consoles

our footed 

webs.

and in the crevices of my

socks shadow, an ant

colony is building their 

distilled utopia.

wilderness beneath pure 

white literature; stained with

purity and inconvenience.

pages of our slow collisions

are burning with unbraided

sweetgrass.

i am nothing short of

a tradition built in

trees. structured in my

soul's peace;

the worship of magic.

settle your grief beside

my change..

and i will ground you

to our whole.

caught without red

today, i am yours and you

are far enough to miss me-

close enough to ignore me.

where were you when i 

needed the writing on my

wrists to repurpose unkept

paragraphs.

i survived,

anyway.

as time succumbed to

the frizzy pale pink of our

torso, mammoth sized burdens 

buried themselves within us.

flavors of our necks turned into

sirens and glowed grace.

God's playful memoir.

red no longer serves its purpose 

here because we are faceted in 

lucid faith terrible truth and

celestial soul sounds.

red is the color of my womb;

untethered black with 

emptied 

white dust,

a home on almost desserts

lips.