Without You to Hold Onto

To things you never thought you’d lose.

A continuation of True Life: I’m Turning Blueish-Green

We knew it would happen this way. You were uncomfortable—jittery, squirming, giggling— just the kind of night when things would go wrong. I was there, like I aways am, rolling around in the back of your mind, kissing the circumference of your third finger. On, off, on, off– You laughed and slipped me from one finger to the next. I was warm, the way you make me when your fingers start to blush and sweat. Crooked and familiar, I rode through the night with you.

You were chatting, not paying attention. You were fidgeting and I was sliding. You tugged me off your finger, and I kept flying.

At least you knew I was gone. At least you looked for me. If only you had been listening, you could have heard where I landed. You could have checked the back seat. You could have called to your friends, telling them to go ahead. You could have pulled the taxi apart, piece by piece, until my crooked copper rolled out onto the pavement. But you didn’t. You apologized to the driver, touched the spot where I used to be, and stepped away.

Today, I ride in circles around you. I hear unfamiliar voices as the chilling air makes me brittle and empty. I imagine your finger losing the green hue I used to leave on it. Your hand, naked, silently tapping without the percussion I provided.

Darling, don’t forget me: The ring that will always be shaped to hold you, living without you to hold onto.

To The Stars

I'm always writing on love.
Love lost
Love found
Love imagined
Love missed
Love still smoldering
Love, fresh, fragile
Love not yet love.
And yet for all this I've written,
I've forgotten one. 

The one love that slips into the background
During long meals
And simple smiles
And sarcasm.
The one love that echoes off the walls
During war stories
And songs off key
And shared space. 
The one love we forget about
While we're living in it.

As we watch the horizon
For the sun to rise and light up
Our shining knight,
Our foggy future,
We forget the breath we breathe,
The paths we walk on,
The heart that keeps beating,
And the people with no expectations.

And I’ll be honest;
I’ve worried much more
About the groom than the bridal party,
But today I’m thinking about
How real and how happy and how perfect
And just right
Is “just friends.”

So I won’t worry about if you’ll text back
And you won’t be angry if I cancel plans
And I won’t put on mascara
And you will put on sweatpants.
And we will eat.

Laughing, we won’t notice:
Stars, moving together, make heaven.

So High

From Weed to Smoker

So High

When I first touched your lips
I knew, man, I knew
This whateveritis
It’s the good stuff.

Your deep breath
Pulling me in
Letting me dance in the air

As I learned what happened under your skin
And just the way your gentle breath feels
When it’s late at night and breath
Is all you can think of anyways

Let me live in that breath
Let me taste your lungs always
Let me let you let go

When I first touched your lips
And I first started burning
I was too high to notice

You’ve got the eyes I usually sink into
The jaw-dropped smile I usually seep under
The appetite

But yesterday I watched those eyes blink awake
And squint at windowed sunshine
And taste backpacks and day naps
And float out the door
To be with things I’d never seen before

Though being the light in your head
Is warmer, sweeter, softer than I’ve been
I don’t know
If I’ll ever tumble off your breath
And drift with you
Through loud, cold, uncomfortable day
Or if I’m just the high you want
At the end of the night
When your lips have been everywhere else
And your couch is your wonderland
And you want to let go of everything,
See what you find,
And leave that, too, behind.

Chill 2



The idea of you snuck up on me today, kissed me on the back of my neck while I wasn’t looking, and sent shivers down my spine. What a good daydream you are. Maybe I’ll stay in my asylum. You, living in the crevices of my mind, have given me more heart stutters than anyone living in shine of my eyes. I’m taking you off the guest list.

But still send pound cake.


I Promise I’m Chill

Dedicated to: Casual conversations and covering up the crazy.

Dear Lover,

I think I’m getting used to life here. The weather’s been so beautiful lately, I can’t help but enjoy it. Every morning, I take a walk in the garden and I listen to the birds and know that they’ve been awake for hours. We all know winter’s coming, though, and I envy their beautiful wings that will carry them away from the cold. I hear it gets cold here. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that. Anyways, I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay. Little letters like this keep things in perspective, especially when I know they’re going to you.

Dear Lover,

I wonder what you’re up to tonight. I imagine you on your recliner talking about the Lions game and not realizing how much your friends love being around you. I’m sure you’re laughing. Even as I write this, I hear your smile echoing off the walls.

My roommate doesn’t have someone like you to think about. She just gets stuck in her mind, running circles around old regrets, twisting words, and waking up in the middle of the night. Thank God I’m not that bad.

Dear Lover,

They said you could visit me if you wanted to! But I’m not sure if I want you to yet. I’m not totally adjusted, you know. I’m not like other people here and I don’t want to freak you out. I’m chill, honestly. I’m chill and I really don’t want more than you want unless you and I talk about what you want and it’s different than what I thought you wanted in which case I’m happy to reconsider what I want. But like I’m just a regular girl who’d love to see you soon. Maybe I can take you for a walk in the garden. It feels like a real place there.

Dear Lover,

Thinking about you a lot today. I don’t have a lot of things to think about, you know. My life is white walls and white jackets and I’d love your face to bring a little punctuation to my never ending days. I also think about my yo-yo. Natalie sent me one and it’s fantastic. I think about it all the time. Mainly because I never actually got to keep it because the string was too long. If you send me a present, make sure there are no strings attached, would you? Those aren’t allowed around here. My roommate’s mom sent her a pound cake and she got to keep that. She didn’t even share. You should send me a pound cake so I can keep it and not share it too.

Dear Lover,

I hope I’m not coming on too strong. I know we’re still getting to know each other, but you should know that if I sound like I’m coming on too strong it’s just that they don’t give us anything other than Magic Markers for our letters, and those always make things look more dramatic than they are. In reality I’m chill. I told you that already I think but I just wanted to make sure to reiterate it so you didn’t forget it. I’M CHILL I’M CHILL.

Dear Lover,

When we met I didn’t think it would be like this. But sometimes when you’re in a life of white walls, you think about the little things a lot more than you’d expect and the little things become the headlines to your newspapers and you can’t wait to turn to page C5 and finish the story. Please don’t think I’m crazy. I’m just an average girl in an insane asylum for reasons that still escape my narrow mind.

Dear Lover,

I’m not going to stop writing to you. Writing is the reality that keeps me from getting too torn up about my day-to-days. Like, this morning I woke up to a bird hitting my window. But when I write it down it becomes insignificant.  I woke up to a bird hitting my window. I woke up to a bird hitting my window. I woke up to a bird hitting my window. I woke up to a bird hitting my window. I woke up to a bird hitting my window. I woke up to a bird hitting my window. Insignificant now, right? Just one bird not flying south for the winter. Stuck here with me and no wings and not enough breath to talk to the one person she wants to talk to more than anyone.

Dear Lover,

I promise I’m not crazy. I promise I’m chill. I promise I don’t want anything more than you expected.

Please. Just hold my hand, look into my green eyes, and tell me I’m human.

See also: Chill 2, More from the Asylum