Tub Time

I do my best thinking in the bath

getting in before the water

and sitting there, chilled

until the water creeps up

inch by inch, warming my body.

Sometimes I let the shower

pour water down on me from above

like a calming rainfall;

bringing cleansing thoughts
in addition to hot flecks of water.

Once the water has reached its limits,

past the tape I’ve placed over
the drain to stretch those bounds,

I can relax and think.

I watch the water play over my body,

causing little ripples in reflections of the tub,

the faucet, the drain spout,

using my hands to block or aid 

my vision of myself.

Coffee Filter

I drink my coffee through a straw,
the conduit acting as a filter
to draw away any bitterness;
Any teeth staining substance.

A way to let the hot liquid slip
straight down my throat:
a bitter pill made less
difficult to swallow.

Much like I did with you,
using lust as a conduit
to safeguard my feelings
until I had enough distance
to realize what you were.

A bitter substance
better left untasted,
no matter the caffeine rush
you promised to give.

It wasn't worth the risk
of tasting you
craving you
becoming addicted to you
for a simple jolt to start each day.

But I did it anyway.

Down to the Quick

I bite my nails, 

down to the quick

because at least that way

I know I've reached 

my limit.

Pain when my fingers clench;

blood when I make a fist.

A tiny bit of masochism 

no one sees

beause they can't look past

a filthy habit.

And it is both,

but it is so much more-

A sweet release, 

an oral fixation, 

and a way to make yourself feel something.

Even if that feeling is one of pain.

Orange Juice

The taste of orange juice,
reminds me of you;
an acrid taste inside my mouth
coupled with an articifical sweetness.

This shouldn't be. 
You are the sweetest guy I've ever met.

I constantly miss
the taste of you;
your tongue inside my mouth.
Coupled with you, that's real sugar.

Kitchen Disaster

Every time I go home,

I bake.

I bake, and I bake and I bake,

Until my mom groans and bemoans

that I ruin her diet, with my sweets.

But it is a compulsion-

Where real life is suspended

for easy choices and pre-cooked meals.

But I like to bake,

a safe place for me:

where I can still fail and not feel

too bad about kitchen disasters

I can later throw away.

The time I made the Tangerine Soufflé,

Complete disaster.

Forever to juice,

zesting my knuckles instead;

perfect curls ending up smushed.

Fruitless.

But I misread the directions

Left out a key component

And when I smelled something burning

I thought all was lost.

But I managed to salvage my creation

burned parts scraped off,

lots of whipped cream;

A little slice of orangey heaven.

Even though the rest of it,

Which my family didn’t eat,

just sat in the fridge,

until I finally threw it out.

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.