The parts you didn't find

I’m sitting in a coffee shop by the highway ramp
There’s a chai latte spoon sawing at your arm
But it’s not sharp enough
I'm trying to draw blood
the way you did from the very first night
but I keep getting distracted by the sky
Now my arm is sore and I’m getting frustrated
Kicking the door when it won’t close properly
How do I blame the dented surface on the barista
who gave me a spoon when I needed a knife

I’m getting out of the tub and I go to dry off
and nothing is wet and it's just like lately
I've been wringing the towel when it’s dry
Looking in the mirror
examining the skin still giving off heat
Looking for the soft parts – possible entry points
The parts you didn’t find
The parts that are still only mine
On my knees worshipping
the places inside of me you haven’t touched
haven’t even come close to
I swallow a prayer of relief for the
decibels of laughter you haven’t heard

I ask the barista for the wifi password
before he can give it to me
the boy in the booth next to me walks by
slips a folded piece of paper on my table
it says push the door until it clicks
When I look up he’s gone
But there’s a car getting on the highway
and I could’ve sworn I just heard a faint click

Indigo is sold out of bookends

My father is standing in a field of poppies
and I am weeping under a tree
The field is a photograph and the tree is nothing
Forgive me I’m a little lightheaded
and it’s just that I am weeping
and the poppies won’t bloom for me

The tide is coming in faster than I can walk back to the house
and when I look up at the sky I can’t see blue
I usually bring my umbrella with me
when I know it’s supposed to rain in the afternoon
but today the rain came in the form of a bus
at 6am while I was still lying in bed

My bookshelf is top heavy and reeks of poetry
The kind that smells like warm skin
and Monday evenings spent wearing headphones
My bookshelf is missing a bookend
and I keep loading books on one edge
wondering why they tumble off the other

My chest stings in the way that I imagine peeling
dry cement from your skin feels like
I’m pumping fresh blood into my veins
and staring as it pours out of the open wound in my foot
My metaphorically bloody foot is in my mouth and
I’m choking on all the reasons why I can’t just buy a new bookend

And today it was not supposed to rain
but there was a nail tacked in the wall
that’s fallen on the carpet that I’ve stepped on
and there’s blood on my foot again and now I’m weeping
under nothing but an empty hole in the wall where
a photograph of my father standing in a field of poppies used to be

Poker love

We're all just out here trading pieces of love. Everyone has a pile of chips. We can trade or we can give away. When we give away, it shows we have faith that we’ll get some back somewhere along the line. We hope someone is feeling generous. We’re all trying to make good trades. We all want to be left with something to hold onto.

It’s a wonderful feeling to be given with no condition that you must give back – but if you’re kind enough, you want to. Or if you're me, you want to dump the whole bunch of chips into someone’s arms. TAKE THEM ALL TAKE ALL THE LOVE, you need it you need it – not thinking for a second what that means for you.

Some people have the hardest time giving any away. Some people aren’t the gambling type. Others have a hard time accepting any chips at all. Some are tapping the table repeatedly, hit me. Hit me again. Be careful, I think. You’ll bust open with all that love.

I’m the unabomber with cheap sunglasses on. I am the identity you all told me I wasn’t, but I’m mistaken to think this world can’t read me. I’m not as intimidating as I think I look. I wear my love like a shirt on inside out. And if you’re cold, I’ll give you that too.

Everyone I’ve ever loved got up from the table. Now it’s just me and the dealer. She’s looking at the few chips I have left in front of me. Nothing about me is by the book. “All in” I say without hesitation.

Sometimes you bet on the wrong people. Sometimes you lose and you have to leave the table.

Sometimes you’re walking down the street and a stranger hands you a chip to keep you in the game. Just when you thought it was over, you’ve made it one more day. And you’re glad you have.

There are other tables. You can sit down at a new one and look up and see someone you thought you lost. Sometimes I imagine seeing you.

Then there are times when you think you’re bluffing, you think you’ve got nothing. And you take another look at your cards – just before you get up. And you realize you don’t care what they say. You only care about the person sitting across from you. And you’ve got all the love you need right here. You’re not bluffing anymore. And you realize you’ve won.

A letter to you. And a letter to me.

Become big
Become as big as you need to be
as big as you can
You will never be too big
too much

Light yourself on fire
Don’t worry about the flames
the burning or the ash
Don’t worry about being too hot
or burning out
Ignore the smoke alarms
Ignore the paramedics when they come

Become everything you want to be
even when you have no idea who that is
If you don’t like what someone tells you about yourself
Don’t believe it
If someone tells you that you know what you want
and you don’t think you do
Don’t believe them
And keep trying to figure it out yourself

Don’t be too proud
Don’t forget to be grateful
Don’t forget to appreciate the good ones
Let them inspire you

Don't believe what you've always believed about love

Keep your word
Do as you say
Follow through with your actions
Words are lovely
but you need to show
that you mean what they say

Be unapologetic
I think that is one of my favourite words
Do it unapologetically
Be unapologetically yourself
Own the voice cracks
wear them like scars
you are only breaking open your beauty
They imply openness
courageousness

Don’t be afraid of yourself

Don’t shrink
Don’t stop growing
Not for anyone

At the end of the day
a fear of being too much
is really just a fear of being not enough
A fear of being too much
is just doing every desperate thing you can
in hopes you don’t have to experience
what it would be like to be not enough
See what I mean now
they are the same

This was a letter to you
until I realized it was also a letter to me
We are so different
until we are so similar

Meeting points at 2am

7 seconds goes by in a blink
and I say something to explain so you don't have to worry
I'm drinking water like it's going to stop me
from waking up with a hangover heart

The heavy fog sits on the bridge of your nose
and the back of your hand is pressed against my cheek
I'm looking up into your eyes between kisses and I'm seeing unfamiliarity
I know it’s you but it's still enough to make me look again

I've tried to write this poem 7 different ways and it will never be enough
I've even tried to not write it
but that doesn't work either
So the best I can do is this:

The universe hands me a diner mint from the pocket of my coat
and it tastes different
The kind of different that surprises you
The kind that tastes like your lips in a parking lot at 2am

I run my finger across the condensation on the inside of the car window
and I’m afraid I’ll tear the centre console from your mother’s car
Just to get to the heart of you
Droplets of rain sit on the outside of the glass and I want to drink them in
I want to wear them like crystals in my hair

There might be more oxygen among the blinking lights and falling coins
but I’m fairly certain you are the only reason I’m breathing easier

It's diner mint different
and I'm convinced I could live off this
I'm convinced if I hold tight enough
your arms will come searching for my hands
because they don't want to walk across the asphalt of life without them

Because every parking lot you walk through without my hands
will make your arms ache
Every casino you visit you’ll imagine looking up
and seeing me across the room next to the penny slots
Every headlight shone on a rainy windshield
you'll see a flash of me in the passenger seat with my boots off

Don't think you shoulder this alone
While this is happening to you
Know that I won't be able to get on a highway ramp
without seeing your goodbye arm out the window

My pockets will be full of empty diner mint wrappers until I see you again

A flashlight on my face in the dark