Rain on Skin

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Stung

We jump  So high and then get shocked When our knees give out and our flesh scrapes the floor. There has to be more to this, More to us, More than lying here together with a thousand Invisible bricks between us.

Could it be that we shut our eyes too tight And for too long, so that now when we See light we believe we willed it into existence?

Or perhaps it was that we were so desperate for the Cold breath of fresh air that we inhaled With such frequency, with such intention, That our lungs forgot what it was they had been looking for.

You were always the bee And I was never sure if swatting you away Would bring me more pain than good.

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Forever shouldn't be glittery. It needn't be loud. Forever can be the pale grey before sunrise, or the soft laugh you don't realize you've let out.

JS

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Black Widow

Warm ash between my fingers Comforts me, so I keep exhaling. How typical of me To crave the burn that will end me, to yearn for the stench In the back of my throat that I am never quite rid of.

He walked like a mountain. He was so beautiful  In his certainty and so difficult to explore, with zippers for  Lips and a heart that was locked in safe after safe of steel. He Hated the warm ash, the way it would stain my breath And remind him I was there long after I’d gone.

Is it crazy that I am lulled into solace by poison? Is it crazier that I fell For the one who  spun the  Web I got trapped in and devoured me From the inside out? There’s always something that Will kill us, I think as the smoke clouds my vision And the stranger puts his flame away.

If death won’t comfort us, Then dying surely should.

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

People are like time. Hard to understand, harder to love, and the only audience to our demise.

JS

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Silver Noose

People are so proud. They’re so proud of how fast I got to where I am, Of the talent I surely must possess and the future it’ll surely bring.

Their pride chokes me. It swings around my neck like the little hand on a clock that  Won’t stop ticking. They’re so proud.

Some days I want to show them my demons. I want to parade around with my scars out like medals, With no makeup on my canvas and no smile on my soul.

I want them to see the terrain of my mistakes, Of the trust I put in gargoyles and the way I skipped To the guillotine again and again.

I see old teachers, friends, memories,  All waving at the caricature I let them leave in my wake. If only they knew, I think as I finish the last of his bourbon.

If only they knew how I like the way it burns.

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

What They Should Have Taught Us

That shoes dry and scabs heal, and you should jump into puddles until you can’t anymore. That fries can be a better support system than parents. That hoisting your body over the edge to feel some elusive sense of euphoria is bad, but you should experience it a few times to know where your edge is. That hot water burns almost as sharp as heated words from someone you thought you could trust. That blood dries the same whether it’s from a razor’s mistake or his fist or your finger after you slammed the door too fast. That a stranger whistling at your neckline on the street is not a compliment or a funny part of life. That you don’t owe it to anybody to be beautiful. That your hips will grow and they will shrink and none of that is worth punishing your heart for. That every person you meet is imprisoned by their mind, just like you. That you should smile at babies and dogs and not be self-conscious about how dorky you look. That you should protect yourself instead of defending him. That you should drink wine when you need to drink wine and read a book when you need to read a book. That you shouldn’t define yourself by what’s happened to you. That you should believe in your dreams, because no-one else will. That you should never apologize for flying when they couldn’t get their feet off the ground. That you will be your own best friend and your own worst enemy and that you will be the only one you have at some point, for some length. And that it will be okay.

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

What is it about the human spirit that compels us to sprint through fire and then turn back to sort through the ash?

JS

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Impossible

I told her the story of you yesterday. She laughed politely and took another sip, as if To dismiss everything we might have been because we were Young, or stupid, or because you are you and I am Me.  I told her about the night you found me In the burger place, after my phone had died, just Off a hunch. The way you tapped my shoulder and waited For congratulations, or a kiss, or the kind of credit I could  Never have given  You. I told her the way you would hug me When you were committed to somebody else, the way You would keep me just warm enough to be safe but never Warm enough to be hot. But then again, heat was Never the problem with Us. I told her the reasons I hated you, and all  The things you did badly, or wrong, or the things You never did at all. I said that you’re like the mosquito In my studio apartment, because whenever I try to pin you down The space between us suddenly feels so big. So Impossible.

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Our Youth

We were happy. We had full plates and empty hearts and eyes Stuck on the ground or the sky, hoping that their eyes Were stuck on us.

We were happy, Some said over wine coolers On recently painted decks while we Splashed around in the pool, hiding our Own bottles under the clothes we shed.

We were happy, I think as I look back at all the Tears I lost or secrets I found in the 4am Darkness, when sirens forced true friends away And the bruises on my knees made no sense at all.

We were happy? I ask my oldest friend, the one Who had seen it all with her eyes shut And her hair blowing in the wind while the car swerved. She only laughs. We weren’t happy like the boys were, With their dads’ Jeeps or their moms’ home-cooked meals Splattered on the sidewalk after a few too many.

But we were happy, She says, certain enough to convince water It’s dry. We did it all, she offers like proof, a Closing remark to a jury that’d rather be anywhere else.

We were happy, We did it all. We were and we did And it was all too soon, too fast, too crooked: a truck with no brakes on a dead-end street.

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Be yourself, they say, like I know who that is.

JS

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Nighttime Bath

Bubbles float up higher and higher And I watch them go Like they’re mine. I’m not sure if the wave  Of remorse that comes next is because I let them  Leave in the first place or  Because they seem to be doing just as well on Their own.

I’m far below, Way further down than you would ever dare to Go. My conscience laughs at that coincidence but My heart beats slower, unaffected, like it had pieced The puzzle together before you brought it home  From the store.

Don’t be silly, I see your mouth say but the words are Drowned out by the distance. There’s  An odd comfort in knowing that we are separated By intention and not ambiguity (Like yesterday).

I wish you were  Obsessed with me like you once were, The way your fingers would hold Mine like they were prison guards Or an infant’s desperation, the way Your eyes would linger when they thought I couldn’t see.

But now you leave the  Room and take your dark soul, Your faded spark, and My empty glass with you.

I am alone.

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

I'd rather sink not knowing how to swim, than sink knowing my swimming had failed me.

JS

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Halo

Angel. That’s what he used to call me When he was mad, when he was so mad his eyes wouldn’t open and His teeth tried to trap the words inside.

He’d say it so quietly  That it would almost get caught in the air between us, That it would just barely remind him to unclench his fist, To inhale a little harder, To land back down on Earth.

His mom used to laugh When she saw us together, When she saw the smile that would envelop his face Like it was proving a point.

Angel Was the last thing he said to me As I ran out out and yelled don’t look don’t look  Inside my head. I looked anyways and he was  There, standing in front of the mirror that had Cracked before I met him.

He said Angel once more and I looked above his eyes (shut with pain or doubt or Rage) and I saw myself. 

And there was no  Halo so I left.

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Island

Don’t you like to be alone?  I asked and his hands answered as they trailed over my hips. No,  I thought, I didn’t mean to light a fire with my words. I didn’t mean to separate You from me or me from Us  But I can’t help myself when your eyes look like that, When they look at me like that.

Breathe, you say, like it’s some new approach  To this problem I’ve never been able to solve. And I  Want to say no, or fuck you, or okay, but  Instead I say nothing. 

Instead I catch myself wishing I was Alone, or you were asleep, or I was lost in a world where Loneliness and fear weren’t one and the same.

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Searching for someone who will show me what I'm looking for.

JS

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Blackness

Blackness, because now  Darkness isn’t enough. Because there’s no indication for the  Hue of hatred so strong and so dull at once, The kind of animosity that lingers like a stench in the air Or an unwanted touch or the red wine You spilled on your white pants when you had one too many.

How do we combat that kind of blackness?  The type that black holes are named after because not even the  Smartest of us, the most learned, can fathom its start; because Not even the moon can shed light on the reason it is  Why it is.

Why is it?  Why is it that minds can play god even as they know they’re not  Omniscient, even as they know that the justification they Repeat to the mirror is the most Human of all?

We can’t combat the blackness, not yet, not now. But we can’t run from it either. If you shield your eyes You blink.  But if you open them, You see. You see that there’s Nowhere left to look. 

[emptystreetsandmoonlight]

Waiting for the day when I am less of who I am and more of who I thought I'd be.

JS