This is supposed to be a poem about
how I fell out of love with you
under a Rocky Mountain moon.
About how I swam in dark water
in the cool of the night
and ddin’t wish you were there.

***

I taught my friend to say waxing gibbous
and waning crescent
and I touched dark chocolate
to her lips
and I ghost wrote the Tinder messages
she needed in order to take
a chance
and
I told her to smile when she met him
and hug him hard
as if she were excited
even if she wasn’t
really
(I knew she wouldn’t be)
but desire is something you can fake and make
and mold and carve
Desire creates more desires
and
the quickest way to feel desired
is to be someone who desires.

***

February is the cruelest month
You dumb fucking idiot.

***

You smell like cigarettes
and taste like coffee
and feel like home.

***

Wanna see?
What I can do?
I can make the whole world disappear.

***

You are my seed I bury in the earth.
I water you.

It is because of me
the soil gives birth
to you.
I grow you from a seedling.
You are mine.

I am the one who first pointed you
toward the sun.

I am the one who tenderly
tenderly
raised you up
and whispered
that you could blossom.

***

Listening to a lecture where a theologian is describing his idea of what hell is. He says, “God withdraws the gift of existence.” It sounded really gentle and soothing like when all your friends are going to the after party but they just let you Uber home.

***

The title of this poem is going to be “What I Actually Messaged Him”

This is just to say I constructed a poem naked under the moon for you. TC mark


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