I used to have you in my phone
              as really immature names
like
        Fuckface
or 
        Dickhead
because what a great way 
to show that I'm still pissed off.
              How absolutely childish
to give you a name to make you unappealing,
to tarnish the quality of my experience with you
with mostly dick imagery.
But everytime I let you back in
              I felt a part of me was left out,
a compromise for what you couldn't give.
So yes,
              it's childish to have named you Penis Face
with capital letters and everything,
to show you I meant it as a serious name,
but it's because whenever  I saw your name
              I put too much emphasis on it
              I fell in love with the letters too
because they belonged to you,
an association.
             I fell in love with the promise
the fantasy of the future. 
This is how love rushes over me in such a way
            that I cant help but be swept away
                                    by the tides of my own feelings; 
             the water feels warm
& I'm tired of the day walking me around
             so I let the sensation
             of the two worlds first kiss 
                                    flow through the rivers 
                                         of my nerves.
                              I bend to your touch
& no matter how hard I try,
                & whatever you are called at the time,
          my walls become suggestions
& your laughter leaves me disarmed.

He pulls a rope you have wrapped around your mind,

        never really wanting to see where it all ends, 

                 why its all intertwined.

He keeps your ideas entertained. 

He feeds an attention you crave.

He keeps you close

       but feeling empty 

                 & wanting more. 

As long as he holds you

        there's no telling you 

 that those who deserve you 

        don't just pull,

             they unravel the rope;

strand by strand

        with the determination of time 

             until 

The dark parts of you 

        are defeated by the light you see in yourself. 

Sometimes I feel like

we were tortured lovers in a past life.

I hadn't hurt myself with the idea of you in awhile,

             then out of the depths of im not sure where;

     cosmic or subconscious,

I felt an unresolved pang for you
& maybe you knew that too. 

             I heard what I wanted
& had been waiting to hear.

You described me once as
the excitement & peace of riding a wave;

here I let it all rise & fall again & again,

though I guess we both know how it ends;

words hanging in the air,

              & you leaving them there,

words I exhaust

              because your silence weighs on my spine.

Now

We don't speak. 

We don't touch.

Ego puts on a suit and tie 

but crumbles inside. 

I feel a pull towards familiar.

I taste your words 

              before you slide inside. 

I feel you beside me one last time.

It's all in my head though

& I start to cry.

I leave the room just like you.

When I come back

I see that you've called.

Instead of pushing back buttons 

& changing my voice,

I mourn for this pain

& let this past life die. 

In a surreal way,
I remember talking about some very real things.
I remember looking at you from across the couch,
seeming like miles away,
but here all at once,
again.
You had been gone a long time
& I was just starting to end
lingering thoughts of you,
But your memory hit me 
like an unexpected sting
& then there you were,
on my couch,
Telling me you had been miles away
& you had felt that way
but you're here now
all at once,
again.

You want more. 
More
tattoos,
money,
respect,
sexual adventures.
You want more to
discover,
drink,
experience.
You want 
to be the star
but left alone.
You want
the bills to let you rest
& for the time to,
For your thoughts to escape you.
You want to go back to a photograph, 
To a boy unaware of his circumstances. 
You want to leave 
& pretend your baggage won't come too,
Although passively I'm the same way;
Avoiding my own intuition
& chasing you when you can't stay.

I think of you making pretty girls laugh
& maybe they get to see under your clothes.
Maybe your charm stretches from your tongue
& over their eyes
& vowels shake out of you both all night.
Maybe you love starting over;
the questions are exciting yet polite,
You're only knowing at a certain level,
& it's like you've never met yourself.

Jokes so people love me.               

Jokes so reality doesn't crush me. 

A corner of light 

to stretch across the room 

when the mood is dark.

Sometimes it's not appropriate;

heavy blankets pull over my head.

I anchor myself down.  

Though the thoughtful distance 

into deeper dark

is worth appreciating, 

The way up requires the right energy.

The energy to 

clear the hauntings of past lessons,

shake words that never went anywhere,

& to do this without bruising my own mind.

The energy to forgive myself

for my feelings,

So they may lift my sinking heart 

to higher thoughts.

I always had to word 
my conversations so carefully,
to find the right ones for your tastes.
I was exhausted before I even spoke.
Naturally you'd always look baffled by me
if I was upset,
when I didn't expect those answers
& I wanted to throw my questions away.

You unwillingly learn from me;

hurling yourself over the sides of my words

& I try to catch you. 

We pretend to read minds

& resentment adds to a pile

that we pick from when we're angry.

I remember you telling me: 

"You get too deep sometimes." 

But even then,
I'd rather too than not at all or a little.

          Even still,

I want to open up your chest
   & free all the lost laughs
              & good
you should've always known. 

I feel like I'm always waiting for you;
Staring at a clock,
a box,
a door,
Waiting for our story to begin again
the way it usually does;
Burning brightly & intensely,
Burning for strength, 
for warmth,
Excitement,
& reactions,
For a calming haze.
Waiting until it's too hot,
Waiting to watch the flames 
dance & bend
& with insatiable appetite,
consume all they touch.
Waiting to watch fire, 
exhausted by its own desires,
die in the ash
If given no room to breathe.

In the similar manner
          that I have to remind myself to breathe while eating,
I acknowledge that my attention can crave
   even more than I can take.
I remind myself to slow down
           with the people I let into my more than occassional thoughts.
& I ask why not try to transfer this pace 
            to other aspects of my life;
a career, 
saving money, 
buidling a talent,
building myself.
               I'm aware. 
But my energy speaks for me
   & the vessel of my body obeys.
I go where my mind takes me,
           I'm influenced by my own ways.
The past may provide suggestive signs
& I could follow them if it seems comfortable.
           I may wander until I'm tired
& disenchanted by my own chaos.
But I could find a moment of my own clarity & beauty
& peace of mind may find me. 

It's hard to see you cling to the idea of a man,

A steady dragging of ideals through a comfortable mud, 

Setting no boundaries except for testing your trivial limits;

How pissed off can I get about this unfinished laundry 

though it stems from larger problems? Etc.

I see suppressed passion for a world outside of his.

I see promises floating away from you,

& a warped sky that lets them pass through.

I see how easy it is for you to not see at all.