lowercase

i.

folded in half, fingers down my throat, i try to grasp the intangible.

it lies somewhere inside my larynx, tangled between vocal cords and embedded in my esophagus -swallowed, with grief and need and something else that goes down bitter like bile.

it takes me a while to realize, but when i am somewhere between empty and half-full, that in those minutes nothing is tangible. i am letting loose more than my dinner, i am flushing away my past present future all in one flick of my wrist and turn of my fingers.

in that moment, i am far from infinite, but rather nothing at all.

ii.

a boy fell in love with a girl four years ago, and now all he has left is me.

i have tried to tell him that her star went out -that it imploded and exploded and is nothing but a black hole now. she is dust motes and debris; a dandelion hearted girl, blown away with the wind. 

hey, i whisper, you know, you know: i'm no good. no good at all. i'm like a stain that never comes out -i don't know how the fuck to let go.

i tell you that i'm caustic, like the stomach acid on my tongue you're scared to taste. i tell you that i am shaken, that my lungs quiver with each breath and my voice wavers with each word, but mostly, my hands shake when i think about you. tell you that, more than anything, i am nothing but broken bones, glacial veins, and a tired heart.

{what i don't tell you is to be ready for when i'm gone}

iii.

i am beginning to realize paper cranes and poetry can't bring back the dead.