Shore

Come closer.
    Breathe.
It is in  your breath
 that you tend.

Engulf me,
  like the waves
lap the shore.

Give, but not,
  too much.

Because, like
  the sand,

i can't retain.

Jason

He came into me,
    tall, phallic, lean,
beauty-FULL. beautiful.
BEAUTIFUL.

he left. quicker than
  he came. yes I mean,
like, during sex.

He indented my psyche,
  dented it. knocked it
in.
    knocked me in.
every fucking time.

and now, all I have
 left is the cavern.

regret is a word,
  only left for the
impulsive,
  obsessive,
     self-giving,
                                empty.

The Chapters Will Write Themselves

words drip from
         my fingertips
and slip off my
         tongue onto
the pages of my
         life, that I
keep writing
     and t-trying to
     rewrite

there is no eraser.
  no backspace, no
     delete. only
margins for error,
     pages for them;
                  of them.


they can, at best,
   be reduced to
              footnotes.
but what if I
   wanted them to be
a chapter?

The chapters will
     write themselves.
word by word.
     space by     space.

breath by
               baited
  breath.

inhalation. exhalation.
fullstop. comma.
              ellipsis...

they'll neatly fold
 over
when complete

and ever so gently,
   or maybe sometimes
with a ____jolt
start anew.

the chapters, love,
   will write
                  themselves.