Biology or Prison

I look at you and notice
The cells we’ve made
(Or found)
That contain us

Alone. I look at my hands
And wonder if they’re strong enough
To break my cell
And everyone else’s too.
A hand that prides itself on softness.

When I close my eyes,
The cell remains.
When I breathe for myself,
The cell dissolves.
Let me catch my breath for a moment.
Let me feel that I am temporary.



Uphill Start

I wonder when you will leave me.
I wonder what your excuse will be.
I wonder if I should trust you at all,
Give you the opportunity to leave me


I wonder what your intentions are
(Looking for)
I wonder if you know who you are
(Looking for)
I wonder if you wonder about me
(Wishing to know)
(More about you)


The Beginning is Aware of the End

Please tell me you’ll make a dent.
I am tired of relationships that end
without pain, without an ending. Fizzle
due to a lack of heat to begin with. Fizzle
into an ending that was obvious from the start.

I want a relationship that I know will hurt if it ends,
that will leave me broken. Only then will I know
that I have felt deeply. Only then will I know
that it was worth it. I want to be whole
with someone that might break me,
not because I like to be broken
but because I like to be whole.

And I know I can be whole again
after a breaking, for I have done it already,
and I can do it again.

Be that potential for hurt with me.
Be that potential for love.



It is not a question of
Whether you were enough
Or not,
Too much,
Or not.

You exceed quantities, go beyond
Into questions of
Whether you were fitting,
My self with yours
Or not,
Fits too well,
Or not.

These are questions of relation
Which means there are two
Trying to be one,
Or not.

So question not your worth
For it exceeds my words
And consumes me
To propel me forward,
Or not.


Packets of Time: Particle Theory of Love

I am waiting for enough moments
to pass until
I am no longer fighting urges
to call him.

I go through the motions of my day,
slowly unfreezing,
hurriedly wondering,
at what point is it acceptable for me
to be light again?

Some days have lighter moments
which cloud over with guilt:
How dare I be okay?
What about him?
Is he okay?

I am waiting for enough moments
to combine until
I start stitching myself back up,
through packets of time.