An elbow unfolds, an open hand awaits
As a expectant palm mirrors a generic greeting
Escaping from your tongue.
First impressions expire but maybe if I freeze them
In my mind I’ll be able to keep them for longer.

I didn’t love you from the start,
Lets play a game, I challenged myself,
A game I needed to win.

I needed to have the breath sucked out of me,
Remember the ripping of my lungs from my chest.
I wanted to give the stale air,
Give all of it away to someone who would keep it
In memories of throwaway flirtations.

So I played,
Played so well it was worthy of Odysseus,
I played to be worthy of a second glance.
Romanticizing the decrepit need for attention,
Undeserving became admirable.

I never loved you at all, I just needed
So I’ll defrost you and you’ll rot
Next to an imperishable impression I’ll always keep.

You – I didn’t love you from the start either.
You were a game I wanted to win, but I didn’t.
Or perhaps I did, intoxicated I tripped,
Out of the running. Out of the game.


I love someone:
His curled yellow pages, his
Twisted edges molding into
Blinding white sheets behind uneven print.
A shoebox, a toothbrush, a jar,
The smell of a letter, 
My relentless adhesive.

When the title fades the words lose meaning the syntax fails.
Bury the pages in the dirt
watch something grow from your story.
Unfurl the petals of your diction,
preserve them in a dictionary,
weave them between your fingers
stitch them into your palms.