Paper Graveyard

Maybe we could patch the miles together
with my skipping bones and your curls,
woven across the plains.

Your letters blanket the desk,
a field of broken seals, broken hearts,
the miles of distance in a paper graveyard.

In the night, my sadness masked by the dark—
You’d leave like a nightmare.

I hope the doorstep tripped you,
pulled out your breath from behind you,

and left it under the mat.

You swept me away
and I’ll never forgive you for that.

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Naked Party


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Not Our Denton

Waking this small town
with bullets and violence;
It’s not our Denton.

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Dandy Lion – Revision

The quilts, the quiet;
the weekend we only ate sushi
then rolled ourselves in the sheets
like ghosts, like goblins,
gobbling gluttonous—
for granted.

Leaving curls on his pillows,
he called me Dandy Lion.
In weekends, in time
breezing through so fast
taking it in only in the
moments between
the pages, the distance.

The silences, the spinning,
how sorry we were
when we tried to look back,
how hard it became to look
forward, for ourselves.
I’ll tear you apart, said The Truth.
Leave those memories for better things.

And we did.
We left
for better, for us.
The distance saved us
and the memories left us happy

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Let’s tell time in stories.
Let’s tell stories in dimes,
in losses,
in rounds of tequila in basement bars.

Let’s remember
when bikes meant freedom,
coasting through an empty campus
on summer nights.

Every winter,
we’ll wish for snow days,
“Baby, it’s Cold Outside,”
to group cuddle on couches
and drink each other’s beers.

And over time we’ll fill journals,
bind albums of our memories,
so we can press replay
and watch ourselves grow up together
over and over.

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Pill Bottle

Through the pill bottle
turning and tumbling ’round
—a kaleidoscope.

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When it comes to you,
my knees only know “buckle,”
my shoes laced with hope.

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