untitled

it can feel
like breaking plates,
like screeching car tires;
the sound of shuffling metal chairs
against stone-colored
linoleum floors.
as though your breath,
can hang so heavily,
as it lingers,
and waits for a sign,
any sign,
that it can relax.
like footsteps that trail
behind you,
stomping loudly, and boldly,
and your eyes just
swim circles,
hoping for it to pass.
pressing your fingertips
into a delicate ocean,
as the temperature
trickles through your skin,
pace yourself.
like gazes locked shut
a vision of love with
such an unthinkable depth,
you’ve such gentle waters.
and when we have lost
our mouths,
with no words to be held,
it will mail all of my letters
to you.

i forgot how to write

i've burned a hole through myself;
like the sun, how it scalds
the fair skinned
at a quarter past three.
the way a cigarette releases
a translucent dance
of ghosts, of shapes,
until it has withered itself
away.
how my eyes can work their way
through walls,
and faces,
and no stare can appear as hollow
as i can.