So Instead I'll Be Your Nothing

Most days, I can't remember what you looked like,
but the smallest things have imprinted on my soul:
    the pebbly, raw texture of your skin
    the way you vocalized your favorite word
    and the coarse texture of your hair.

I've lost track of your smile-
don't remember how you said my name.
And I know I'd get it wrong,
if I tried to put down on paper
my memory of your face.

Though I hold fast to what I can remember:
    the necklace from a religion you didn't believe in
    the downward curve of your nose
    and the way you looked at me that summer.

You wanted me to be your everything,
so instead I'll be your nothing.
I've let you slip away,
only for you find your way back to me in dreams,
a hint, a memory of what was.

Shadow Flicker

The shadow of you haunts me;
an itching presence between my shoulders-
that prickling feeling of being watched-
yet also of watching
as I visit the places we went
and those I'd expect to meet you in.

Your generic looks an unwelcome specter
as everyone can shapeshift to become you
from the edges of my periphery.
And still I turn my head,
not wanting it to be you,
but already preparing what I'd say if it were.

Though it never is.
Because you are a ghost in real life now,
barely living, barely being seen.
Believe me, I'd like to forget you,
but instead I'm being haunted.

Retemomreht

Always remembered in the light,

You showed the coldness in the bowels of the earth,

Yet you were shoved into a corner

Of the bland earth, not looking after smooth preps.

Unheeded by bimbos,

Completely content

In your wealth of surroundings

And you stayed put

Wanting to go, but ungratefully, you were

Placed during the sunrise,

Staying put for an enemies enjoyment,

And for his enemies experiment.

From the bright day to the murkey depths

Into the foaming sand,

That mineral enriched mud,

With all the life forms teeming,

Better off than after,

When you bumped into the smooth

preps once again.

Never told to stay put, stroked feet

And lightly speckled, wide-open mouths.

When you kept the chill:

42°F,

unconsistent,

with Freddy dead, good company. 

Her stunted growth,

Smaller and smaller,

Because he starved her and ignored her.

Less peeping eyes and softly squeezing feet,

Ignored you too-

Uncaring if you would start to be

Unsure of yourself.

Thermometer

In a dark and forgotten place,

with no one to show the world’s warmth to.

Taken in by salty water

to tend spiny urchins in a tank.

Watched over by the few scientifically minded, but still

sort of lonely in sterile surroundings.

Unbidden, but gratefully, you traveled,

stolen during dusk, taken

from the murky closet to the brightly cluttered desk.

Into the still water,

The distilled water:

No life that you could sense, seemingly worse off.

Bumped by other needled creatures

often moved, by grabbing hands

with darkly rimmed, peeping eyes.

And still you kept the temperature: 24°C,

constant.

After it hatched, also alone.

Growing bigger and bigger every day

because she Fed him, Watched him, Obsessed over him.

More peering eyes and groping fingers

watched you too,

to see if you would continue to remain

Constant.

Silence

I choose silence as my companion.
More secure in that relationship,
to stillness- to solitude-
than any romance that's come before.
I can bask in this silence,
give myself up to it and just think:

I can think sweet thoughts - have innocence-
without feeling like I'm missing out.
Without feeling like I'm missing out on something,
some monumental part of my development-
my relationship to adult society.

I don't have to prove anything to silence,
don't have to say anything
just to make the time pass.
We are just content together,
silence and I.
No awkward pauses,
no interview style dates.
We've known each other far too long for that.

And it's a comfortable silence;
me content to be myself
instead of wondering
how I might appear to someone else,
breaking myself from relaxing into the moment
and just being alive.

Silence is inside my head,
a calming presence.
It doesn't break itself into my thoughts-
it already belongs there-
nestled in a spot I'm comfortable with,
not taking up too much room or attention.

Silence is inside my soul,
a contentedness.
There is no force, no anxiety.
I'm just whole and at peace
with the silence.

That soft stillness surrounding me.
Silence.

Instead of Some Boy

She cried when I told her, 

then lied straight to my voice,

Worried I was not being straight,

With her.

And I sat, crumpled into the smallest possible form,

My own hands hugging, holding

Because she wasn’t there to do it for me.

And she sobbed and asked me,

Was I sure?  How could I be sure?

What about that boy…the one I like before?

And I sobbed something back,

Taken aback by her shocked reaction.

But also in watery relief,

that she still loved me,

even though I loved her.

Loved a her,

instead of some boy,

the one I liked before.

A response to hearing Rigoberto Gonzales speak; dedicated to my mother and making peace with ourselves and others.

Untitled

You are both hard and soft, to me. 

You turn me on, you turn me off, 

you are both hard and soft, to me.

Your skin so warm next to mine, 

I marvel in it's silky feel, much

easier to feel than the sting of your words, 

like the rough barbs on a cat's tongue.

You are both hard and soft, to me.

I'm not ready to prove my worth

in case I let you down. 

I'm not ready to trust you either, 

in case you push me down. 

Then the shield of your soft arms, 

won't be enough to stop the hurt.

You are both hard and soft, to me. 

Do opposites attract? 

Or are we only trying to fool ourselves-

only out to get what we each need:

A snuggle on the couch, 

A quick kiss at the store, 

A giggle in the bed, 

And a moan the night before.

You are both hard and soft to me, 

both a pull and a push. 

My body wants to stay 

wrapped in yours all night,

while my mind tells me to run, 

before you turn out my light:

You are both hard and soft to me.